THE DREAMERS.
Leandro Perez, as soon as Asmodeus had finished this narrative, said
to him: "A very pretty picture of friendship have you presented! But,
rare though it be to see two men so bound by love as the Toledan and
Don Fabricio, I imagine it were quite impossible to find two rivals of
the softer sex, who could so generously sacrifice to each other, for
friendship's sake, the man they love."
"Doubtless!" replied the Devil: "that is a sight the world ne'er saw,
and one that, as it grows older, it probably never will see. Women have
no affection for each other. I will suppose two who think themselves
friends; I will even go the length to suppose that they never speak ill
of one another when apart,--so extraordinary are the ties which bind
them. Well! see them together; and incline the least towards the one,
and rage shall fill the bosom of the other; not that she cares an atom
for yourself, but because she would be preferred by all. Such is the
character of woman: jealousy occupies too large a portion of her heart
to leave room for friendship."
"The history of these peerless friends," replied Don Cleophas,
"possesses a slight touch of the romantic, and has led us somewhat
from our object. The night is far advanced, and we shall soon behold
the brilliant heralds of the coming day: I expect of you, therefore,
a new pleasure. I perceive a great number of persons still sleeping,
and wish you to satisfy my curiosity by informing me of their dreams."
"Willingly!" replied the Demon. "You are, I see, an admirer of _les
tableaux changeants;_ I will gratify your taste."
"Thanks!" said Zambullo: "I expect that I am about to hear of rare
absurdities in these same dreams." "And why?" asked the Cripple: "you,
so well versed in Ovid, do you not know that it is towards break of
day that dreams visit the mind with presages of truth, because at that
time the soul is disengaged from the vapours of digestion?" "Oh! as to
that," replied the Student, "despite of master Ovid, I have no faith
in dreams." "You are wrong, then," exclaimed Asmodeus: "you should
neither treat them as fantastic visions, nor yet believe them all; they
are liars, who sometimes speak the truth. The emperor Augustus, whose
head had well adorned a student's shoulders, despised not dreams which
turned upon his fate; and nearly took it in his head, at the battle
of Philippi, to strike his tent, on hearing of a dream which regarded
himself. I could cite a thousand examples to you, which would convince
you of your folly in this respect; but I forbear to do so, that I may
at once satisfy the new desire which prompts you.
"We will begin by this handsome mansion on our right. Its proprietor,
whom you see ensconced in that superb apartment, is a liberal and
gallant noble. He is dreaming that he is at the opera, listening to a
new prima donna; and that the voice of the syren is just enslaving his
heart.
"In the next apartment lies the countess, his wife, who loves play to
madness. She dreams that she has no money, and that she is pawning her
diamonds with a jeweller, who is lending her thereon three hundred
pistoles, deducting only a very moderate discount.
"In the next house, on the same side, lives a marquis of the same stamp
as the count, and who, for the moment, is in love with a celebrated,
but capricious, beauty. He dreams that he is borrowing largely of an
usurer for the purpose of securing her to himself; while his steward,
who is sleeping at the top of the house, is dreaming that he is growing
rich as fast as his master is hastening to ruin. Well! what think you
of these dreams? Is there anything in them so extravagant?" "No! on
my life," replied Don Cleophas, "I begin to think Ovid is right: but
who is that man whom I see, lying with his mustachios in paper, and
preserving in his sleep an air of gravity which would indicate that
he is no ordinary cavalier." "He is a country gentleman," replied
the Demon,--"a viscount of Aragon, imbued with all the pride of that
province. His soul at this moment swims in delight; he dreams that
he is with a grandee who is yielding to him precedence in a public
ceremony.
"But," continued Asmodeus, "I observe in the same house two brothers,
apothecaries, whose dreams are particularly unpleasant. One of them
is reading, in his sleep, an ordinance which decrees that doctors
shall not be paid, except when they have cured their patients; and his
brother is occupied with a similar law, which ordains that medical
attendants shall head the procession at the funeral of all who die
in their hands." "I could wish," interrupted Zambullo, "that these
decrees were as true as they would be just; and that your doctor were
thus compelled to be present at the burial of his innocent patient, as
a _lieutenant criminel_, in France, is bound to witness the execution
of the guilty wretch whom he has condemned." "I like your comparison,"
exclaimed the Devil: "it might be said in such a case, however, that
the one merely superintends the execution of his own sentence; but that
the other, having already performed his especial function, pursues his
victim after death."
"Hollo!" cried the Student, "who is that personage rubbing his eyes,
and rising in such tremendous haste?" "He," replied Asmodeus, "is a
noble signor who is soliciting an appointment, as governor, in the
Indies. A frightful dream has startled him from sleep: he fancied
himself at court, and that the premier had passed him with averted
eyes. And there, too, is a youthful damsel, waking to the world,
not over contented with her dream. She is a lady of rank, and not
more handsome than discreet. She has two lovers; for one of whom she
nourishes a passion the most tender, and for the other an aversion,
almost amounting to horror. Well! in her sleep just now, she saw,
upon his knees before her, the gallant she detests; and he was so
impassioned, so assiduous, that had she not awakened, she would have
treated him with even greater kindness than she ever bestowed on the
lover whom she favours: nature, during sleep, signor Student, throws
off the yoke of reason, and of virtue.
"Cast your eyes upon that house at the corner of this street: it
belongs to an attorney. Behold him and his wife sleeping in twin
bedsteads, in that room hung with ancient tapestry, embroidered with
grotesque figures. The man of law dreams that he is about to visit
one of your hospitals for the charitable purpose of relieving a sick
client with his own money; while the lady imagines that her husband is
driving out of his house a sturdy clerk, of whom he has become suddenly
jealous."
[Illustration: the lady of rank's dream]
"I hear ungentle snorings break on the stillness round us," said
Leandro Perez; "and I fancy they proceed from yonder plump old man,
whom I discern in the house adjoining that of the attorney." "Precisely
so," answered Asmodeus. "It is a canon chanting in his sleep his
_Benedicite_.
"His neighbour, there, is a silk-mercer, who vends his costly wares, at
his own price, to titled customers, for their time. His lordly ledger
is inscribed with debts amounting to above a hundred thousand ducats;
and he is dreaming that his debtors are bringing him their gold; while
his creditors are horrified with visions of his own bankruptcy." "These
dreams," said the Student, "certainly have not emerged from Sleep's
dark temple by the same gate." "I fancy not, indeed," replied the
Demon: "the first has passed by the ivory portal of the leaden god, and
the other from that of horn.
"The house adjoining that of the mercer is occupied by a celebrated
bookseller. He has recently published a work which has been extremely
successful. On bringing it out, he promised to give the author fifty
pistoles, in addition to the price agreed for, should the book run to a
second edition; and he is at this moment dreaming that he is reprinting
it without informing the unfortunate scribe of the fact."
"Ah!" exclaimed Zambullo, "there is no need to ask from which door that
dream proceeded; and I have not the slightest doubt of its proving one
of the least deceitful visions he ever had in his life. I am perfectly
acquainted with those worthy gentlemen, the booksellers. Heaven help
the poor authors who fall into their hands! To cheat them, is the
mystery of their craft." "Nothing can be more true," replied the
Cripple; "but, it appears, you have yet to become acquainted with those
as worthy gentry--the authors. They are six of one and half-a-dozen of
the other: it is impossible to decide on their relative merits. By the
bye, I will relate to you an adventure which occurred not a century
ago, in this very town, and which will enlighten you on the subject.
"Three booksellers were supping together at a tavern; and the
conversation naturally turned on the scarcity of good modern authors.
Thereupon, one of them said to his brethren: 'My friends, I must tell
you, however, in confidence, that I have been in luck's way within
these few days. I have purchased a manuscript, for which I paid
rather dearly, it is true, but it is by an author--oh! it is uncoined
gold.' One of those whom he addressed now interrupted him; and boasted
of having been equally fortunate on the preceding day in a similar
purchase. 'And I, gentlemen,' at last exclaimed the third, in his
turn,--'I will not be behindhand in confidence with you; I will show
you the gem of manuscripts, of which I only this morning became the
happy owner.' As he finished, each drew from his capacious pocket the
precious acquisition he had made; when these miracles of authorship
turned out to be as many copies of a new theatrical piece, entitled the
Wandering Jew, which the astonished bibliopoles found had been sold to
each of them separately.
"Near the bookseller, in the next house," continued the Devil, "you may
perceive a timid and respectful lover just awaking. He loves one of
the most sprightly of widows; and was dreaming, but this moment, that,
beside her in the covert of a dusky wood, whose shade lent courage to
his modest spirit, he was so tender,--so gallant in his speech, that
his fair mistress could not help exclaiming: 'Ah! you are becoming
absolutely dangerous! If I were not steeled against the flattery of
men, I should be lost. But you are all deceivers! I never trust to
words;--actions alone can win me,'--'And what actions, madam, do you
ask of me?' interrupted the gentle swain: 'must I, to prove the excess
of my passion, undertake the twelve labours of Hercules?' 'Lord! no,
Nicaise,' replied the lady, 'much less would content me.' Thereupon--he
awoke."
[Illustration: the timid lover's dream]
"Prythee, tell me," said the Student, "why yonder man, in that
dark-coloured bed, tosses about so furiously." "He," replied the
Cripple, "is a talented licentiate; and his present agitation arises
from a dream, in which he is disputing in favour of the immortality of
the soul, with a little doctor of medicine, who is as good a catholic
as he is a physician. In the same house, over the licentiate, lodges
a gentleman of Estramadura, named Don Balthazar Fanfarronico, who has
come post-haste to court, to demand a reward for having valiantly
slain a Portuguese, by a musket-shot, in ambush. And of what do you
imagine he is dreaming? Nothing less than that he is appointed to the
government of Antequera, at which he is very naturally dissatisfied: he
thinks he deserves a viceroyalty at least.
[Illustration: man on horseback shot by another, in ambush]
"In a furnished house close by, I discover two distinguished
personages, whose dreams are far from pleasant. One of them is governor
of a fortress, where he is now sustaining a fancied siege, and which,
after a faint resistance, he is on the point of surrendering, with
himself and garrison, at discretion. The other is the bishop of Murcia,
whom his majesty has charged with the task of eulogising a deceased
princess, whose funeral takes place in a day or two. He has, in
imagination, just ascended the pulpit; and there has his imagination
left him, for he has stopped short in the exordium of his discourse."
"It is not impossible," said Don Cleophas, "that this misfortune may
really befall the worthy prelate." "No, truly," replied the Devil;
"for it is not very long since his grace found himself in a similar
predicament on a like occasion.
"And now, if you would like to behold a somnambulist, look into the
stables of this same house: what see you?" "I perceive," answered
Leandro Perez, "a man walking in his shirt, and holding, what seems
to me, a horse-comb in his hand." "Well!" replied the Demon, "he is a
sleeping groom. Nightly does he rise in sleep to curry his pampered
charge, and then betake himself to bed again. His fellow-servants look
on the sleek coats of the horses as the frolic work of some wanton
sprite; and the groom himself shares this opinion with them.
"In the large house, opposite, lives an aged chevalier of the Fleece,
who was formerly viceroy of Mexico. He has fallen sick; and, as he
fears he is about to die, his viceroyalty begins to trouble him: true
it is that he exercised his functions so as to justify his present
inquietude; the chronicles of New Spain, unless they be belied, make no
too honourable mention of his name. He has just started from a dream,
whose horrid visions float before him still, and which will probably
bring about their own fulfilment in his death." "Ah!" exclaimed
Zambullo, "that must be something extraordinary." "You shall hear,"
replied Asmodeus: "there is really something in it rather singular.
The sickly lordling dreamt he was in the valley of the dead, where all
the victims of his injustice and inhumanity thronged fiercely round,
and heaped upon him menaces and insult. They pressed upon, and would
have torn him limb from limb; but, as their hot breath seemed to burn
his very brain, he thought he took to flight, and saved himself from
their fury. He had no sooner escaped, than he found himself in a large
hall, hung all around with black cloth, where, sitting at a table upon
which were three covers, he saw his father and his grandfather. His two
dismal companions solemnly beckoned him to approach; and, with all the
gravity which belongs to the dead, said to him: 'We have waited for you
long: come, take your place beside us.'"
"Oh! the wretched dream," interrupted the Student; "I could forgive the
poor devil, for the fright he is in!" "To make up for it," resumed the
Cripple, "his niece, who reposes in the apartment over his, passes the
night in bliss: sleep brings to her its brightest illusions. She is
a maiden of from twenty-five to thirty, ugly as myself, and not much
better made. She dreams that her uncle, to whom she is sole heiress,
has ceased to live; and that she sees, in swarms around her, amiable
signors, who dispute for the honour of her slightest glance."
"If I do not deceive myself," said Don Cleophas, "I hear some one
laughing behind us." "It is no deception," replied the Devil; "it is a
widow laughing in her sleep, a few paces from us. She is a woman who
affects the prude, and who loves nothing so well as a little friendly
scandal: she dreams that she is chatting with an ancient devotee,
whose conversation could hardly fail to delight one of her taste.
"I cannot help laughing in my turn, to see, in the room under that of
the widow, an honest cit, who lives with difficulty on the little he
possesses, but who dreams that he is picking up pieces of gold and
silver, and that the more he gathers the more remain to glean: he has
already filled a large coffer." "Poor fellow!" said Leandro; "he will
not enjoy his treasure long." "No!" replied the Cripple; "and when he
awakes he will be like the really rich, when dying: he will see all his
wealth disappear."
"If you are curious to know the dreams of two actresses who live near
each other, I will relate them to you. One is dreaming that she is
catching birds with a call; that she strips them as she takes them,
and then throws them to be devoured by a large tom-cat in which she
delights, and which has all the profit of her skill. The other dreams
that she is driving from her house greyhounds and coach-dogs, which for
a long time have sunned themselves in her presence, having resolved to
confine her affections to a pretty little lap-dog, which has recently
gained her favour."
"Two dreams absurd enough!" cried the Student; "I fancy that if at
Madrid, as formerly in Rome, there were interpreters of dreams, they
would be sadly puzzled to explain these." "Not so much as you think,"
replied the Devil: "a very small acquaintance with the domestic habits
of your syrens of the stage, would enable them to render their sense
perfectly intelligible."
[Illustration: the actress feeding birds to the tom-cat]
"Well! for myself," exclaimed Don Cleophas, "they are past my
comprehension, and that troubles me little: I would rather be informed
who is that lady sleeping in a bed with amber velvet hangings,
bordered with silver fringe, and near which, upon a small table, I
perceive a book and a wax-candle." "She is a lady of illustrious
family," replied the Demon, "whose establishment is mounted in gallant
style, and who loves to see her livery adorned by young and handsome
men. She is accustomed to read in bed, and cannot sleep without her
favourite author. Last night she was indulging in the Metamorphoses of
Ovid: in consequence, she is at this moment dreaming, extravagantly
enough, that Jupiter has become amorous of her charms, and has entered
her service in the form of a favourite page.
[Illustration: the actress, lap-dog under her arm, driving out the
other dogs]
"Apropos of metamorphoses, there is another subject who will amuse
you. You perceive that man, tasting in the calm of sleep the exquisite
pleasure of imagined flattery. He is an actor, a veteran of such
ancient service, that there is not a grey-beard in Madrid who can
say he witnessed his first appearance. He has been so long behind the
scenes, that he may be said to have become theatrified. He is not
without talent, but, like most of his profession, he is so vain that he
thinks the part of Man beneath him. Of what think you is this hero of
the slips now dreaming. He imagines that he is on the point of death;
and that round his couch are assembled all the deities of Olympus,
to decide on what they are to do with a mortal of his importance. He
listens while Mercury insists before the council of the gods that a
comedian so famed, after having so often had the honour of mimicking
themselves, and Jove's own person, on the stage, should not be subject
to the common fate of man, but merits a reception as a brother god by
those who now surround him. Mercury finishes by moving accordingly,
and Momus seconds the motion; but the male and female members of the
celestial parliament murmuring at the proposition of so extraordinary
an apotheosis, Jupiter, to put an end to the debate, is about to
decree, of his sovereign authority, that the aged son of Thespis shall
be transformed into a theatrical statue, for the amusement of future
generations."
The Devil was about to continue, but Zambullo interrupted him,
exclaiming: "Hold! Signor Asmodeus, you forget that it is day. I am
afraid they will perceive us from the street. If the gentle public
should remark your lordship, we shall hear such an uproar as we may be
glad to put an end to."
[Illustration: the actor transformed into a statue]
"Never fear!" replied the Demon; "they will not see us. I have the
power ascribed to the fabulous deities of whom I spoke but now; and
like to the amorous son of Saturn, who, upon Mount Ida, shrouded
himself in a cloud, to hide from the world the blisses he shared with
Juno, I am about to envelope you and myself in a misty veil which the
searching eye of man cannot pierce, but which shall not prevent you
from beholding those things which I wish you to observe." As he spoke,
they were suddenly surrounded by a vapour, which, although dense as
the smoke of a battle-field, offered no obstacle to the sight of the
Student.
"So now to return to our dreamers," continued the Cripple,----"but I
do not consider," he added, "that the mode in which you have consumed
the night must have fatigued you. I advise, therefore, that you let
me bear you to your home, and leave you to a few hours' sleep. In the
meanwhile, I will just take a turn round the earth, and amuse myself
after my fashion; taking care to rejoin you by the time you awake, when
we will continue our laugh at the expense of the swarming world." "I
have no desire to sleep, and am not in the least fatigued," replied Don
Cleophas; "so, instead of leaving me, do me the pleasure to expound the
various objects which occupy the yawning brains of the persons whom I
see already risen, and who are preparing as it seems to me, to leave
their houses: what can possibly call them out so early?" "What you
ask me is well worth your knowledge," answered the Demon; "you shall
gaze on a picture of the cares, the emotions, the anguish that poor
mortal man gives himself during life, to occupy, with the vain hope of
happiness, the little space which is granted him between the cradle and
the tomb."