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HOFFMANN'S 
 
 
 
 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 " On ne diseute plus sur les modeles, on les contemple. La langue appartient 
 au pays qui la parle, mais les idees appartiennent a rhumanite tout entiere, la 
 langue doit etre exclusive, absolue, fidele au genie de la nation ; mais les idees 
 doivent aller au plus grand nombre d'intelligences possible. 1 ' 
 
 BOSTON: 
 BUBNHAM BROTHERS. 
 
 58 & 60 Comhill. 
 1855. 
 
3 b 
 
 
 PUBLISHERS' NOTICE. 
 
 The publishers of this translation of Hoffmann's Strange Sto- 
 ries have thought that a work of this character would be acceptable 
 as an oasis in the desert of supernatural literature \ and the public 
 will doubtless find in every one of these interesting tales, sufficient 
 food for marvel ; in fact, the characteristic of this author, as may be 
 well understood from his life, which follows, is extravagance. We 
 quote the following : 
 
 " Hoffmann possesses, by turns, the singularity of Rabelais, the 
 softened sarcasm of Voltaire, the exquisite sensibility of Bernardin 
 de Saint Pierre. There is in his tales the piquant variety of Le Sage, 
 joined to the spirit of Moliere, the caustic simplicity of Cervantes, 
 the fineness of touch of Prevost. It is the book for every body." 
 
TO THE 
 
 GREAT AMERICAN PUBLIC, 
 
 THIS 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 OF 
 
 Poffmmm's Strange §>tm'm t 
 
 IS DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE PUBLISHEKS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Life of Hoffmann, 5 
 
 The Cooper of Nuremberg, - 13 
 
 The Lost Eeflection, 73 
 
 Antonia's Song, 95 
 
 The Walled-up Door, 114 
 
 Berthold, the Madman, 166 ^ 
 
 Coppelius, the Sandman, 187 *-' 
 
 Salvator Eosa, .-..*""• 225 
 
 Cardillac, the Jeweller, 289 
 
 The Pharo Bank, 379 
 
 Fascination, - - - - 398 1 
 
 The Agate Heart, - - ....... 412 
 
 The Mystery of the Deserted House, - 428 
 
HOFFMANN. 
 
 Models are no longer discussed, they are contemplated. The lan- 
 guage belongs to the country that speaks it, but ideas belong to the 
 whole human race. The language ought to be exclusive, absolute, 
 faithful to the genius of the nation ; but ideas ought to reach the 
 greatest possible number of minds. D. Nisard. 
 
 Ernest-Theodore- Wilhelm Hoffmann was bom in Prussia at 
 KoDnigsberg, the 21st of January, 1776. His father occupied 
 for more than thirty-six years the office of attorney-general 
 and commissioner at Insterberg. His mother was the daughter 
 of the consistorial advocate Doerfer, a man of rare merit, and 
 who was long entrusted with the affairs of nearly ail the noble 
 families of Silesia. She was a woman of feeble health and of a 
 sad and romantic imagination. 
 
 The childhood and youth of Hoffmann were passed at 
 Kocnigsberg, with his serious parents and two personages 
 worthy of interest on account of the strange contrast offered 
 by their characters : a stiff old uncle, bombastic, systematic, 
 like the baron who figures in the talc of Fascination ; and a 
 young aunt called Sophia, a graceful mischief-maker, whom 
 he often likes to remember, but who died in the flower of her 
 age — a type of grace and beauty, whose every feature is repro- 
 duced in the charming creation of Seraphine. Hoffmann 
 likes to recall the remembrance of all the beings and all the 
 objects that he has met with during his life. Having been 
 born poor and dying indigent, he wore out his days in a series 
 of monotonous occupations, and the capricious escapes which 
 he allowed to his mind in the imaginary world. 
 
 On leaving the university, he had but one friend, Hippel, who 
 remained his Py lades, his fidus Achates until the end. Rich, 
 1* 
 
6 HOFFMANN. 
 
 lie would have cultivated the arts with an immense affection ; 
 deprived as he was of all patrimony, his friends demonstrated 
 to him that the study of the law could alpne give him bread ; 
 he became a law student. But he often threw aside the Pan- 
 dects and the Institutes to take by turns his pencil, his bow, 
 or his pen. The supernatural already furrowed deep wrinkles 
 on his youthful forehead, but his friend Hippel was as yet the 
 only confidant of his adventurous dreams. These two beings, 
 closely united, balanced each other marvellously well. Hofl- 
 mann prepared his flight, Hippel sustained him ; one had the 
 fire, the other the calm. Sometimes, on fixed days in the 
 week, they admitted to this intimacy a few chosen friends, 
 and they talked of poetry, art and love around a pot of beer 
 or a bottle of Rhine wine. This was the origin of the Ser- 
 apion club. 
 
 Meanwhile time was passing ; Hippel, nominated for judi- 
 ciary functions, left Koenigsberg. Hoffmann became lonely 
 and sad again. Chance developed a passion in his youthful 
 heart ; but the difference of social position, of rank and for- 
 tune, rendered impossible all hope for the future. Hoffmann's 
 heart was broken. He fled in his turn from Koenigsberg, 
 which no longer contained for him either friend or love, and 
 he went to Glogau to continue the study of the law. From 
 there he went to Posen, invested with his first degree. The 
 world then changed its aspect in his eyes. He sees it nearer, 
 he is called upon to appreciate it, — to judge it under its vari- 
 ous appearances. Strongly excited by everything around 
 him, he throws aside his melancholy, sharpens his crayons, 
 and begins to make caricatures of everything and everybody, 
 go much and so well that a personage in high standing, more 
 ill-treated than the others, writes to Berlin to complain of 
 him, and raises a fatal bar to any legal career which poor 
 Hoffmann might undertake. Meanwhile the caricatures had 
 brought him to light, and his reputation as a w T it procured for 
 him in a short time the care of a family. 
 
 In 1804, we find Hoffmann married and counsellor to the 
 regency of Warsaw. A new society, elegant and select, 
 
HOFFMANN. 
 
 opens before him. The resources of a great city develop his 
 activity, and give a broader course to his studies. He con- 
 nects himself with men already famous, such as Yoss and 
 Zacharias Werner : and the referendary Hitzig became as 
 dear to him as was Hippel at Koenigsberg. 
 
 Hoffmann felt from that time the springs of life and the 
 strength of intelligence redoubled within him. He composed 
 music, made pictures and stories ; a circle of celebrated peo- 
 ple was formed about him. His position appeared stable and 
 his future almost sure, when suddenly the French entered 
 Warsaw, and drove out the Prussian government together 
 with Hoffmann, Hitzig and company. The poor counsellor 
 of the regency was sick with grief; then, when hardly con- 
 valescent and without resources, he drags himself as far as 
 Berlin, solicits an office, and obtains nothing except rebuffs. 
 By chance, he remembers that music may afford him some 
 employment; his friend Hitzig succeeds in having him ap- 
 pointed as leader of the orchestra in the theatre at Bamberg. 
 He sets off, his purse light, but his heart big with hope ; 
 he arrives : — but oh, fatality ! the manager has gone off with 
 the funds : the company in complete disorder no longer know 
 upon what saint to call. Meanwhile, they must live, and to 
 continue the representations without an orchestra, for want of 
 money to pay the musicians, Hoffmann, instead of scratching 
 notes, sets himself about composing a play. They play his 
 piece, it succeeds ; he gains nearly enough to keep him from 
 starving to death. Once launched upon the sea of literature, 
 he sends articles to the Leipsig journals : they are inserted, 
 he is begged to continue his favors ; but all this amounts to 
 so little 1 Hoffmann was again about to resort to expedients, 
 when a new manager came to Bamberg, Holbein, a man of 
 probity, but bold, an innovator, and bent upon making a 
 fortune or burying himself under the stage. Hoffmann, under 
 his auspices, became machinist, architect and decorator of the 
 theatre of Bamberg. The machine is again set in motion; it 
 operates,— florins pour in, and parties of pleasure flock from 
 all parts. But one of Holbein's caprices destroys this castle ; 
 
o HOFFMANN. 
 
 he goes, and misery comes back to stand sentinel on the stage 
 of the abandoned theatre. Hoffmann, driven to extremity, 
 sells his last coat to enable him to wait until his friend Ilitzig, 
 his second providence, forwards him his commission as leader 
 of the orchestra at Dresden. Now at Dresden, things go on 
 no better than on his arrival at Bamberg ; but, to console 
 him, he finds there his faithful friend Hippel, and friendship 
 makes him forget his misfortunes for a time. 
 
 We are in 1813 ; the dogs of war are let loose ; Talma is 
 playing French pieces at Dresden, and Hoffmann is working 
 on the opera of Undine, and at the same time making carica- 
 tures for the bookseller Baumgartner, getting poorer from 
 day to day. In 1814 his friend Hippel, who has made his 
 way, reappears, and who, faithful to his attachment, does not 
 give himself a moment's rest until he has caused the recall of 
 Hoffmann to Berlin, where he finds Hitzig, and continues his 
 functions of counsellor at the regency. 
 
 Here, then, ought to commence for him a new existence. 
 Seven years of calm, are they not sufficient to heal the wounds 
 that fate has cruelly made ? Is it not time for Hoffmann to 
 enjoy a little of the comforts of the fireside and the success of 
 public life ? Well, no ! his destiny must be accomplished, 
 like that which devotes to martyrdom whoever bears upon his 
 forehead the sign of genius. Besides, the misery of the past 
 has undermined his vital strength. To this prostration of 
 the organs is joined attacks of paralysis of the extremities ; 
 then the invasion of a frightful malady, the spine disease, 
 comes to render his situation without remedy and without 
 hope of recovery. He vegetated five months in unspeakable 
 suffering, which he bore with the resignation of a stoic. In 
 the last days that preceded his death, the physicians tried to 
 reanimate him by the application of cautery to each side of 
 the back bone. Hitzig having come to visit him a short time 
 after one of these painful operations, Hoffmann asked him "if 
 lie had not smelt, on entering, an odor of roast beef: " then 
 he related in detail the proceedings of the doctor, adding, 
 
HOFFMANN. 9 
 
 " That he imagined that they wished to stamp him, for fear 
 that he should pass, as contraband, into paradise." 
 
 We read, in the excellent biography published by Mr. 
 Loeve Weimars, " that Hoffmann was small of stature ; had 
 a bilious complexion, thin nose, and arched, thin lips, dark 
 hair, nearly black, which almost covered his forehead. His 
 gray eyes had nothing remarkable in them when he looked 
 tranquilly before him ; but he sometimes gave them a tricky 
 and scornful expression. His thin form was snugly built ; 
 his chest was broad and deep. In his youth, he dressed him- 
 self with care, without ever . becoming elegant. Later he 
 took much pleasure in wearing his counsellor's uniform, which 
 was richly embroidered, and in which he resembled very 
 nearly a general of the French army. What was the most 
 striking in his person, was an extraordinary mobility, which 
 increased when he was narrating. He spoke with great volu- 
 bility ; and, as his voice was husky, it was very difficult to 
 understand him. He ordinarily expressed himself in short dry 
 phrases. When he spoke of art and literature and became 
 animated, his elocution was abundant and harmonious. 
 
 Hoffmann read badly : when he came to effective passages, 
 he took an affected tone, taking good care to throw a glance 
 among his auditors, as if to assure himself that he was under- 
 stood, which habit often occasioned them much embarrassment. 
 It was pretty difficult to form acquaintance with this strange 
 man, but he was a firm friend. He did not like the society 
 of women, and the hatred that he had sworn towards learned 
 women often made him exceed the bounds of politeness. — 
 When an authoress had the misfortune to make advances to 
 him and came to seat herself near him at table, he took his 
 plate and carried it to the other extremity. As for the men, 
 he gave the preference to those who amused him, that is to 
 say, to those who were quick at witty repartee, and knew how 
 to relate anecdotes, or who took pleasure in listening to him. 
 When he received company at his own house, Hofimann was 
 extremely pleasant. He bore then, with angelic patience, 
 whims and follies which would have put him to flight under 
 
10 HOFFMANN. 
 
 any other circumstances. His humor was of the most varia- 
 ble character : in his journal he has left a quantity of expres- 
 sions by which he designated the different dispositions of 
 mind that he remarked in himself ; here are a few of them : 
 romantic and religious humor ; exalted humorous humor, re- 
 sembling madness ; exalted musical humor, romantic humor 
 disagreeably exalted, capricious excess, purely poetic, very 
 comfortable, stiff, ironical, very morose, excessively depressed, 
 exotic, but miserable ; " The purely poetic humor, in which," 
 said he, " I felt a profound respect for myself." 
 
 Hoffmann was continually possessed with an idea which 
 furnishes us in some measure with a key to his works. He 
 had the conviction that evil is always hidden behind the good ; 
 or, as he expressed himself, that the devil had a hand in 
 everything. His soul was continually a prey to fatal fore- 
 bodings ; he saw all the frightful figures that appear in his 
 works, near him when he wrote ; so that it often happened 
 that he awoke his wife in the middle of the night, to beg of 
 her to sit up in bed with her eyes open whilst he wrote. His 
 writings bear the stamp of truth ; in general there are few 
 poets who offer so strong an identity with their creations. — 
 The same writer who described terrible effects with so power- 
 ful an energy, excelled in satire and caricature, and he repaid 
 himself for the terrors that shook his soul, by contemplating 
 the mad creations that his imagination gave birth to, in his 
 moments of calnl and gaiety. Hoffmann attached no value 
 to those of his productions in which the two distinctive quali- 
 ties of his mind were not produced, as, for example, The 
 Cooper of Nuremberg, the best of his works. His reading 
 was very limited ; he knew only the poets of the first class, 
 and troubled himself very little about the new literature of 
 the day. He drew the subject of his narrations from his 
 imagination, from old chronicles, or from observations made in 
 rag and other places of resort that he frequented. The 
 criticisms of the journalists caused him no emotion, and he 
 rarely read them ; the criticisms of his friends alone had any 
 value in his eyes. 
 
HOFFMANN. 11 
 
 On the first appearance in Prance of the Strange Stories, 
 the singularity of the work made a rapid fortune ; but as a 
 fatal law wills that to every genius a persecution is attached, 
 those who called themselves the interpreters of Hofimann 
 miserably derided him ; caricature nailed him, like another 
 Silenus, astride a beer barrel ; it enveloped him in the nau- 
 seous vapor of the bar room, it covered him with stains of wine, 
 and, to shut out his book from good company, it made it the 
 product of drunkenness and debauchery. It is time to protest 
 against this odious lie, which had deceived Sir Walter Scott, at 
 the same time the whole public, who are too ready to be de- 
 ceived. The man the ignorant and jealous critics have so often 
 calumniated, died the 25th of June, 1822, in the flower of his 
 age, counsellor at Berlin. His life, destroyed by the long 
 suffering of an acute disease, was extinguished in the midst of 
 his wife and several friends, who yet live to honor the memory 
 of the magistrate, the genius of the poet, and the souvenir 
 of the virtues of the citizen. 
 
 Hoffmann was a man who knew life by experience ; he had 
 labored and suffered ; he had exhausted, like many others, his 
 part of the illusions of life. At the time he commenced writing 
 his stories, he had. lived three quarters of the time allotted to 
 man ; it was in 1814 ; the storms are passed, his position is 
 assured, his rank is surrounded with honor and consideration ; 
 Germany has consecrated his genius as a writer ; fame comes 
 to him like glory, both dearly tax his leisure. But Hoffmann 
 predominates over the world, he disdains its praises, he looks 
 forgivingly on its seductions. Formerly he hated it for its 
 hardness, now he sees it with its bitterness, with its ridicu- 
 lousness, and he laughs at it. Retired henceforth into the 
 circle of a few chosen men whose hearts have never betrayed 
 his affections, with Chamisso, Contessa, Hitzig and doctor 
 Koreff, he makes himself another world, of which they are 
 the elect. Amongst them is organized the Serapion Club, 
 thus called from the name that figured that day in the calen- 
 dar. It was in those reunions that Hoffmann liked to exhaust 
 his strangest insnirations. 
 
12 HOFFMANN. 
 
 Pour him out some prince's wine, let a flow of Johannis- 
 berg tint his glass with golden reflections, and the poet's 
 imagination sets off at a gallop, like the courser who carried 
 Burger's Leonora ; — then springs forth all the train of strange 
 beings, children of his wandering thoughts, that appear when 
 he calls them, come, grow and range themselves before him. 
 It is a drama that he raises between heaven and earth ; — it is 
 his world, peopled with personages whose secret he alone 
 possesses. Pour out for the poet a flow of Johannisberg, 
 and his thought, so many times trodden down by the dry 
 pre-occupations of daily labor, so many times ruffled by trust 
 deceived, becomes illumined with a magic brilliancy; the 
 scene becomes enlarged, all the arts furnish their part to the 
 work ; painting brings its lively colors ; music its trembling 
 vibrations ; poetry its secret treasures. Pour out Johannis- 
 berg, and life fires the drama ! Advance on this new earth, 
 amongst these personages that you have nowhere seen, and 
 that you seem nevertheless to recollect ; all the most diverse 
 emotions will surprise and fascinate you. 
 
 Listen to the melancholy echo of Antonia's Song, imme- 
 diately you are bursting with laughter at the relation of the 
 Lost Reflection ; — then a delicious curiosity drags you on to 
 the last page of the Walled-up Door ; farther on, all the spirit, 
 all the elegance of the age of Louis XIV. shines in the 
 description of manners which serves as a frame to Cardillac 
 the Jeweller ; — do you wish for comedy in real life, read the 
 Agate Heart : — do you wish for the strange in its highest per- 
 fection, take Coppelius or Berthold the Madman. At whatever 
 page the book is opened, there is instruction for things in life. 
 By the side of the wanderings of a burning imagination, is found 
 at every line an observation of the world, which mingles all 
 the delicacy of a criticism in good taste with the traits which 
 prove the most intimate acquaintance with the human heart : — 
 the moral deduction is never separated from the marvellous- 
 ness of the form. 
 

 Hoffmann's Strange Stories. 
 
 THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 
 
 The Cooper's trade is noble ; 
 And may his companions be, 
 Love — pure, chaste and stable ; 
 Wine — generous, rich and free. 
 
 I. 
 
 At the commencement of the month of May, in 1580, the 
 respectable society of coopers, of the free city of Nuremberg, 
 celebrated, according to an ancient custom, the annual feast of 
 its institution. A short time after this solemnity, one of the 
 chief men, clothed with the title of Master of the Candles, 
 having departed this life, they thought of choosing his successor. 
 The voices in favor of master Martin were unanimous. Master 
 Martin yielded to no one in all that concerned his profession. 
 He knew marvellously well how to make casks, both elegantly 
 and strongly, and understood how to organize a cellar accord- 
 ing to the best rules. His well known reputation increased his 
 custom, entirely composed of rich and distinguished people ; 
 and, thanks to luck, which had favored all his enterprises, he 
 enjoyed a very considerable fortune for a man in his station. 
 
 When the election of master Martin was known and pro- 
 claimed, the counsellor Jacob Paumgartner, who presided over 
 the assembly, arose and said — " You have done perfectly 
 well, my dear friends, in choosing master Martin for one of 
 your chief officers, for this dignity could not be conferred upon 
 
14 
 
 a man more capable of exercising it. Master Martin enjoys 
 the general esteem, and all those who know him bear witness 
 to his skill. Notwithstanding his riches, he has preserved the 
 habit and taste for labor. His whole conduct is a model 
 worthy of being offered to you. Let us salute our dear master 
 Martin, and let us congratulate him on the unanimous choice 
 which honors and rewards in his person a whole life of probity 
 and labor." 
 
 On finishing this discourse, Paumgartner arose and ad- 
 vanced several steps towards the subject of it, his arms stretched 
 out as if to embrace master Martin. But the latter, rising 
 only for good manners, and very much embarrassed by his 
 corpulence, returned the salutation of the counsellor with very 
 little ceremony, and fell back into his arm-chair, without ap- 
 pearing to care much for the brotherly embraces of Jacob 
 Paumgartner. 
 
 " Ah, so, master Martin," continued the counsellor, " are 
 you then not satisfied with being elected by us Master of the 
 Candles?" 
 
 The cooper, throwing back his head, and patting gently 
 with both hands his ample paunch, appeared to collect himself 
 in the midst of the silence of the company ; then taking up 
 the conversation — " Well, my worthy friend," said he to 
 Paumgartner, " how should I not be satisfied with the justice 
 that is done me ! And what man, I pray you, is such an 
 enemy to himself, as to disdain the legitimate price of the 
 efforts he has made ? Is the tardy debtor, who comes some 
 day to settle the whole or part of an old account, chased from 
 the door ? What has been, my dear friends," continued he, 
 turning towards the assembly, ' ' the motive which has inspired 
 you with the idea of choosing me ? What duties shall I have 
 to perform ? Will it be necessary, to justify the honor of your 
 choice, to know pertinently every detail of our trade ? I flatter 
 myself with having given proof, in constructing, without the 
 assistance of fire, my mammoth tun, a masterpiece known by 
 you all ! Will it be necessary, to please you more, to add to 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 15 
 
 this goods and money ? Come to my house, I will open to 
 you my chests and closets ; I will satiate your eyes with the 
 pleasure of counting a mass of bags of gold and vessels of 
 silver, of no trifling weight. If to flatter your vanity, the 
 newly elected Master of the Candles ought to receive the 
 humble respect of the lowly and the consideration of the great, 
 ask the first of the citizens of our good city of Nuremberg, 
 ask of the noble bishop of Bamberg what opinion they have 
 formed concerning master Martin. I do not fear, God Be 
 thanked, either comparison or criticism." 
 
 Hereupon master Martin, satisfied with the speech that he 
 had just improvised, threw T himself back in his arm-chair, and 
 patting again his big belly ; he threw around him glances that 
 called for applause ; then, seeing that his audience remained 
 dumb, except some slight attacks of cough, which signified 
 pretty distinctly the discontent of some of his fellow members, 
 he added some few words to bring back the minds that his 
 pride had just wounded. 
 
 " Receive," said he to them, " my very sincere thanks for 
 a choice which honors you ; for you have all felt that the 
 dignity of Master of Candles ought justly to reward the man 
 who has raised to such renown the respectable society of 
 coopers. You all know that I shall zealously fulfil the duties 
 that are laid out for me. Every one of you will find in me a 
 counsellor and an assistant. I shall defend as my own the 
 privileges of all ; and to seal the compact of devotion which 
 ought to unite us, I invite you to a friendly banquet which 
 shall take place on Sunday. It is in joyfully tasting some 
 old flagons of Johannisberg, that we will agree upon measures 
 to be taken, with one consent, to assure protection to the 
 general interest." 
 
 This -gracious speech produced a marvellous effect. AH 
 faces were radiant, all voices broke out into noisy acclama- 
 tions, which raised to the clouds the capacity, the merit and 
 the liberality of master Martin. Each one came in his turn 
 to embrace the new Master of the Candles, who allowed it to 
 
1G hoffmaxn's strange stories. 
 
 be done by some without making too many grimaces, and 
 who even deigned to grant to some the favor of extending to 
 them his horny hand. 
 
 II. 
 
 The worthy counsellor, Jacob Paumgartner, had to pass 
 the house of master Martin to go to his own. On arriving 
 before the cooper's door, Jacob, after a sign of farewell, was 
 about to continue his road, when master Martin, taking off 
 his fur cap, and bowing as low as his enormous obesity would 
 allow, addressed him in these words — " Could I not have the 
 honor of receiving, for a few minutes, in my humble domicil, 
 my worthy friend the counsellor ? I should be too happy if 
 he would do me the favor to allow me to enjoy more of his 
 esteemed conversation." 
 
 " By my faith, master Martin," answered Paumgartner, 
 I will very willingly make a short stay under your roof ; but, 
 truly, you are too modest in speaking of what belongs to you, 
 as if we did not know that your humble domicil, as it pleases 
 you to call it, is more amply furnished than any other with 
 quantities of furniture and objects of value, whose variety and 
 elegance are the envy of the richest citizens of Nuremberg ; 
 and I lay a wager that there is not a great lord who would 
 not be glad to j>ossess such a jewel. " 
 
 Now there was no exaggeration in the praises lavished on 
 the cooper's abode ; for as soon as the door was open, the 
 peristyle, of exquisite architecture, already offered the graceful 
 effect of a little fanciful room. The floor was figured in wood 
 mosaic very artistically put together ; the pannels of the wood 
 work enclosed paintings which were not without merit, and 
 chests, sculptured by the best workmen of that epoch, stood 
 along the walls. It was, at the time we see these two per- 
 sonages enter, suffocatingly hot ; a sultry and heavy atmosphere 
 oppressed the breathing on reaching these apartments. For 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 17 
 
 this reason, master Martin conducted his guest into a room 
 disposed in such a manner that a current of fresh air circulated 
 unceasingly through it ; this room resembled a dining room ; 
 it was garnished with the furniture and plate necessary for 
 splendid feasts. On entering, the sonorous voice of master 
 Martin called Rosa. This was the only daughter of the pro- 
 prietor of the dwelling. 
 
 Rosa made her appearance immediately. All the beautiful 
 creations of Albert Durer could not give the idea of so perfect 
 an assemblage of feminine graces. Figure to yourself a waist 
 supple and frail as the stalk of a white lily — cheeks in which 
 the rose was mingled with the alabaster — a mouth ornamented 
 with every seduction — a look impressed with a mysterious 
 melancholy, which hid itself under long eyelids, surmounted 
 by ebony-hued eyebrows, and shone like the soft reflection of 
 the May morn — hair running in silky waves on her alabaster 
 shoulders, — and you will only have a faint idea of all the 
 attractions of this young and interesting person, who looked 
 more like an angel than a woman. You would have thought 
 that you saw alive the beautiful Margaret of Faust, whose 
 ideal the painter Cornelius has so well represented. 
 
 The charming Rosa made a childlike salutation to her 
 father, and took his hands, which she kissed with a respect 
 full of tenderness. At the sight of this sweet creature, the 
 face of old Jacob was covered with a warm tint' of red, and 
 the almost extinguished fire of his antique youth struck some 
 sparks from his embers, long since grown cold. The honor- 
 able counsellor was re-animated for an instant, as the pale ray 
 of the setting sun colors, before fading away, with a last 
 flame-tint, the embrowned foliage of an autumn landscape. 
 " Surely," exclaimed he, " master Martin, you have there a 
 treasure which is singly worth all those that your house con- 
 tains ; and if our old beards tremble with pleasure when we 
 look at such sweet attractions, we must not be astonished at 
 the effect produced by them upon youth. I am sure that your 
 Rosa causes many distractions at church among the youth of 
 
18 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 the neighborhood, and that in the parties frequented by the 
 young girls, gallantries and bouquets are for her alone ! And 
 I engage, that to marry her to whoever is best in Nuremberg, 
 you will only have, dear master Martin, the embarrassment of 
 choice." 
 
 Instead of listening with pleasure to the praises of the 
 counsellor, master Martin frowned discontentedly, and after 
 having ordered his daughter to bring a flagon of his best 
 Rhine wine, he said to the ardent Jacob, who watched Rosa 
 as she retired, red as a cherry, and with her eyes modestly 
 lowered — • ' You are right, counsellor ; I confess that my 
 daughter is endowed with remarkable beauty ; and I add, 
 that she possesses besides, other precious qualities. But you 
 must not speak of those things before a young girl. And as 
 to the best in the city of Nuremberg, I think little of it, truly, 
 as far as regards choosing a son-in-law." 
 
 Rosa, who re-entered at this moment, placed on the table 
 a flagon and two crystal glasses superbly cut. The two old 
 men took seats at the table facing each other, and master 
 Martin was pouring into the glasses his favorite liquor, when 
 the step of a horse rang on the pavement before the house. 
 Rosa ran to see who it was, and came back to announce to her 
 father that an old nobleman, named Heinrich of Spangenberg, 
 wished to speak to him. 
 
 " Blessed be this day ! '" exclaimed the cooper, c ' since it 
 brings to me the noblest and the most liberal of all my cus- 
 tomers. It is undoubtedly concerning some important order. 
 Heinrich of Spangenberg, is a man who deserves a good 
 reception." 
 
 Saying which, master Martin ran to meet the new comer, as- 
 fast as his old legs would allow him. 
 
THE COOPER 01? NUREMBERG. 10 
 
 III. 
 
 The- wine of Hochheim sparkled in the Bohemian crystal, 
 and the three personages soon felt a new life diffuse itself 
 within them. Many a sprightly story was given, forth by 
 them without too many scruples, to such a point that the chest 
 of master Martin floated on his enormous belly, here and 
 there, serving vent to tremendous bursts of iauohter. The 
 counsellor Jacob himself felt his parchment face unwrinkling. 
 
 Rosa was not long in entering the room with an elegant 
 willow basket, from which she drew a table-cloth, as white as 
 snow. The table was laid in the twinkling of an eye, and 
 master Martin's dinner had a very inviting appearance. 
 Paumgartner and Spangenberg could not take their eyes 
 from this admirable young girl, who invited them, in her 
 sweetest voice, to partake of her father's repast, which she 
 herself had prepared ; and master Martin, buried in his arm- 
 chair, with his hands clasped, contemplated her with the pride 
 of an idolizing father. As she was about retiring discreetly, 
 the old Spangenberg sprang from his seat with the quickness 
 of a young man, and seizing the young girl by her waist, he 
 exclaimed, his eyes moistened with tears — " Oh, dear angel ! 
 Oh, child of heaven ! " Then he pressed to his lips, twice or 
 thrice, the forehead of the beautiful maiden, and sank back 
 into his seat, a prey to a sad pre-occupation. 
 
 The counsellor Jacob proposed to drink a full glass in 
 honor of Rosa. " I tell you, master Martin," exclaimed he, 
 ' ' and the worthy lord Spangenberg is assuredly of my opinion, 
 I . tell you that Heaven has made you a priceless present in 
 giving you this beautiful daughter ; and I already see her, in 
 a near future, the wife of some high personage, with a string 
 of pearls on her forehead, and a splendid carriage covered 
 with the most illustrious blazonry." 
 
 "Indeed, gentlemen," continued master Martin, "I do 
 not understand the warmth that you show in speaking of a 
 
20 Hoffmann's stuaxcje stoiues. - 
 
 thing about which I do not trouble myself. Rosa is hardly 
 eighteen years of age, and truly, at this age, a daughter ought 
 not to think of quitting a father for a husband. God only 
 knows what awaits her in the future ; but I can answer for, as 
 a man assured of the fact, that no noble or citizen, were he 
 rich in mountains of gold, would have the slightest right to 
 the hand of my daughter, if he had not given proof before all 
 of the most finished skill in the labors of the profession I 
 honor, and which I have followed for a half century. All 
 that I ask of him, besides that, is to obtain the love of my 
 daughter, whose inclination I will never force." 
 
 Spangenberg and the counsellor fixed their astonished gaze 
 upon master Martin. " So then," said one of them, after a 
 pause, " your daughter is condemned to marry no one except 
 a mechanic, a journeyman cooper ? " 
 
 " God wills it," replied master Martin. 
 
 ' ' But, ' ' said Spangenberg, ' ' if the master of another pro- 
 fession, or an artist already celebrated by his works, should 
 ask of you her hand, and if your daughter loved him, how 
 would you decide ? " 
 
 " My young friend, I should say to this spark," replied 
 master Martin, throwing himself back in his chair, " show me 
 for masterpiece a fine mammoth tun like that which I made in 
 my youth. And if he could not satisfy so legitimate a desire, 
 I would not positively turn him out of doors, but I should 
 desire him, very politely, never to step his foot into my house 
 again." 
 
 " Nevertheless," replied Spangenberg, " if the young lover 
 replied to you humbly that he could not offer you such a piece 
 of workmanship, but that this magnificent house, which rises 
 with pride at the corner of the market-place, was built after 
 his plans, certainly a like labor would be worth as much as 
 the workmanship of any other profession." 
 
 "Well, for heaven's sake, my worthy guest," exclaimed 
 the cooper, ' ' do not give me ideas which are of little use at 
 this time, and to which I would accord, in any case, very little 
 
THE COOPER OE NUREMBERG. 21 
 
 credit. My wish is that the husband of my daughter should 
 practise my profession, and honor it, as I have done ; for I 
 hold that it is the first trade in the world. Hooping a cask is 
 not all ; the spirit of the calling consists in knowing how to 
 manage and improve generous wines. To make a regular 
 cask, it is necessary to calculate and guage ; then a very 
 skilful hand is necessary to bring together the staves and tie 
 them solidly. I am the happiest man in the world when I 
 hear from morning to night the klipp, klapp, klipp, klapp, of 
 the mallets of my joyful workmen ; and when the work is 
 finished, is polished, is made elegant, and when I have nothing 
 more to do than to apply the master's sign, truly I am proud 
 of my labor, as God must have been of the creation. You 
 speak of the trade of architect ; but when the house is built, 
 the first rustic who sleeps upon money can buy it, establish 
 himself in it, and from his balconies laugh at the artist who is 
 passing by in the street on foot. And what answer shall he 
 make to the rustic ? Instead of which, in our handiwork we 
 lodge the most generous, the noblest of creatures. Long live 
 wine and casks ; I see nothing beyond them ! ' ' 
 
 "Approved!" said Spangenberg, finishing his glass; — 
 " but all the good and fine things that you have just said do 
 rfot demonstrate that I am so much in the wrong, nor that 
 you are wholly in the right. I suppose now that a man of 
 illustrious race and princely nobility comes to ask your daugh- 
 ter. There are times in this life, master Martin, when the 
 most stubborn minds reflect many times before letting certain 
 opportunities escape which are not lavished." 
 
 "Very well," cried master Martin, half rising, his eyes on 
 fire, his neck stretched out, his voice short and quick— "well, 
 I should say to that gallant, of illustrious race and princely 
 nobility — My good sir, if you were a cooper, we might talk 
 with you ; but — ' ' 
 
 " But," interrupted the old nobleman, who persisted in not 
 losing the thread of his idea—" but if some day a young and 
 brilliant lord came to you, surrounded by all the pomp that 
 
22 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 his riches and rank might give him, and if he besought you 
 with entreaties to give him your little Rosa?" 
 
 " I would shut doors and windows in his face, and I would 
 triple bolts and bars," howled master Martin ; " and I should 
 tell him through the key-hole, Go farther, my fine lord ; it is 
 not for you that the roses in my garden bloom. My cellar 
 and my ducats are very much to your taste, I am sure, and 
 you will do my little daughter the honor to accept her into 
 the bargain? March on, march on, my gallant ! " 
 
 These words made the color mount into the face of the old 
 nobleman. He leaned on the table, appeared to meditate a 
 few instants, then he added, his eyes down, and in a grave 
 voice, through which appeared, as if in spite of himself, a 
 certain emotion — " Master Martin, you are inflexible in this 
 affair ; but let us learn your last word. I suppose that the 
 young lord of whom I have just spoken to you, to be my son, 
 and that I accompany him to you to sustain his demand ; 
 would you shut your door in our faces, and would you think 
 that we were attracted by the charms of your cellar and your 
 ducats ?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should ever have such an idea of 
 you, my worthy lords," replied the cooper. " I would give 
 you an honorable welcome, such as you merit ; and I should 
 put myself at the disposition of such respectable visitors. As 
 
 for my daughter, I repeat to you But, truly, I ask you, 
 
 what is the use of killing time by solving such singular ques- 
 tions ? We forget our filled glasses, in discussing things 
 neither of the time, nor of our age. Leave here, I beg you, 
 imagining sons-in-law and the future marriage of Rosa,- and let 
 us drink to the health of your son, who is said to be the most 
 gallant youth of Nuremberg." 
 
 The two talkers touched glances with the counsellor Jacob 
 Paumgartner, who had long listened to their conversation 
 without putting in a word. Spangenberg added constrain- 
 edly — " Do not believe, master Martin, that all we .have said 
 is in the least serious ; it is on my part pure pleasantry • for 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG.- 23 
 
 you well understand that my son, unless he become madly in 
 love with some little girl, cannot and ought not to choose a 
 wife except from the bosom of some noble family. There was 
 no occasion for proving so warmly that your Rosa could not 
 suit him, and you could have, it seems to me, manifested less 
 bitterness in your answers." 
 
 " Truly, I hasten to tell you as much," replied the cooper 
 quickly. " I was joking, as you were. As for the bitterness 
 which you reproach me with, it does not exist ; and if I have 
 some pride, pardon it, I beg you, for my position. It is the 
 pride of the trade. You will not find in the whole country a 
 cooper of my capacity, practising his profession without char- 
 latanism, and without caring for criticism j and this fiagon 
 which we have just emptied, and which I am ready to replace, 
 is the best guarantee of my knowledge of how to live." 
 
 Spangenberg answered no farther ; he appeared mortified, 
 or under the influence of very deep reverie. The wise coun- 
 sellor Paumgartner tried to lead the conversation to other 
 subjects. But, as it happens, after an ardent debate, the 
 minds too much on the stretch are suddenly relaxed ; some- 
 thing feverish, without their knowledge, ran in the veins of 
 these three men. Suddenly the old Spangenberg, leaving 
 the table, called his servants, went out of master Martin's 
 house without taking his leave, and without speaking of 
 coming back. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Master Martin saw him go in this manner with some regret ; 
 and as Paumgartner was also about to retire — " Do you 
 know," said he to him, " that I cannot explain to myself the 
 grieved look of that worthy gentleman, Heinrich Spangen- 
 berg ? " 
 
 ''Dear Martin," answered the counsellor, "you are the 
 best man that I know, and you ought certainly to think well 
 
24 hoffmank's strange stomes. 
 
 of the business which has procured you riches and honor. But 
 take care that this sentiment does not mislead you sometimes. 
 Already, this morning, in the assembly of the masters of the 
 corporation, you have spoken in a manner to make you more 
 than one enemy. However independent you may be, is it 
 generous to abase others ? See now what has just happened 
 to you. You little thought, doubtlessly, of taking for other 
 than pleasantry the words of Spangenberg ; and yet with 
 what bitterness you have called the people of the nobility, who 
 might think of the hand of your daughter, avaricious fortune 
 hunters. Could you not have answered him, what would 
 have been more suitable and truer, that such a proposition 
 coming from him, would have destroyed your most decided 
 prejudices ? You would have parted in a much more agreeable 
 manner, and without leaving anything to wound more, some 
 day, what you call your principles." 
 
 "At your ease, my dear counsellor," answered master 
 Martin. " I agree that I may have been wrong; but why 
 did this diabolical man pull, as it were, the words from my 
 throat?" 
 
 " But still," continued Paunigartner, " what urges you to 
 make your daughter marry a cooper by force ? Is this not to 
 wound the holiest laws of nature, to wish to limit the circle of 
 the affections of a young girl ? And do you not fear that there 
 will proceed from it for you and for your child, the most de- 
 plorable results ? " 
 
 " Yes, I feel now," replied the cooper, shaking his head; 
 " I see that I ought to have told you the truth immediately. 
 You think that my resolution not to accept any one for son-in- 
 law except a cooper, comes from an exaggerated love for my 
 profession. No, it is nothing of all that ; I have a hidden 
 motive. Seat yourself there, my dear Jacob, and listen to 
 me, whilst drinking this flagon that, in his ill-humor, Span- 
 genberg has left full. Touch glasses, I pray you ; do me 
 this favor." 
 
 Paumgartner understood nothing of the graciousness with 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 25 
 
 which master Martin loaded him. It was a thing so contrary 
 to his habits, that he had indeed every reason to be surprised. 
 Master Martin did not leave him time to think much of it, and 
 commenced the following narration : 
 
 " I have sometimes told you that my poor wife died in 
 giving birth to Rosa. With her then lived, if it can be called 
 living to exist thus, an old relative bowed down by infirmities, 
 md besides all, paralytic. One day Rosa was sleeping, tended 
 by her nurse, in the chamber of this old relation, and I was 
 contemplating this dear child with sad and mute melancholy, 
 when my looks were turned towards the poor sick woman ; 
 but seeing her so calm, so motionless, I began to think that 
 she was not, perhaps, much to be pitied. Suddenly I saw 
 her thin and wrinkled face become highly tinted with purple. 
 She raised herself, extended her arms with as much facility as 
 if a miracle had cured her, then she articulated these words — 
 ' Rosa, my good Rosa ! ' The nurse gave her the child, and 
 figure to yourself the surprise I felt, mingled with fear, when 
 the old woman sang, in a voice clear and vibrating, a song 
 after the fashion of Hans Berchler, the innkeeper at Stras- 
 bourg : — ' Tender child, with cheeks so blooming, Rosa, 
 listen to my counsel. Dost thou wish to preserve thyself from 
 suffering and cire ? Have no pride, criticise no one, and 
 guard thyself from vain desires. Listen to my words, if thou 
 wishest that the flower of happiness should bloom amongst thy 
 days, and that God should grant thee his blessing ! ' 
 
 " After having sung several couplets in the same manner, 
 the old lady laid the child on the coverlid, and passing over 
 her little angel's head her bony and wrinkled hand, she mur- 
 mured several words that I did not hear ; but her attitude 
 announced that she was praying. Then she fell back again 
 into a stupor, and at the moment when the nurse went out of 
 the chamber with the child, she breathed her last breath 
 without agony." 
 
 " That is a strange story," said Paumgartner, after having 
 listened to the relation of master Martin. "But explain to 
 
26 Hoffmann's strange wombs, 
 
 me, I pray you, what connection can exist between the song 
 of your old relation and the future of Rosa, that you so ob- 
 stinately hold to making her the wife of a cooper," 
 
 " How is it that you do not understand," exclaimed master 
 Martin, "that the modest virtues recommended to Rosa, 
 cannot be met with more certainly than in a family of good 
 and honest work-people ? The old woman also spoke in her 
 song of a neat house, of perfumed waves, and little angels 
 with wings of fire. The neat house could not have more 
 elegance than a cask made as a masterpiece by a master 
 workman ; the perfumed waves are the generous wines with 
 which is filled the masterpiece of the cooper ; and when the 
 wine sparkles and ferments, the bubbles that rise from the 
 bottom, do they not seem to you like little angels with en- 
 ameled wings ? That is really, I assure you, the sense of the 
 mysterious words muttered by the old woman ; and as this 
 explanation suits me, I have decided that Rosa should marry 
 no one but a cooper." 
 
 " But," continued the counsellor, " do you believe that it 
 is sufficient to interpret thus vain words, instead of allowing 
 yourself to be guided by the inspirations of Providence, that 
 always knows much better than we ourselves what is suitable 
 to our happiness ? And I add, that it appears just and wise 
 to me, to leave to the heart of your daughter the care of seek- 
 ing a husband worthy of her." 
 
 " That is all nonsense," exclaimed master Martin, striking 
 the table with his fist. " I tell you, and I repeat, that Rosa 
 must be the wife of the best cooper that I can discover." 
 
 The counsellor Jacob Paumgartner would willingly have 
 got angry with the singular obstinacy of master Martin, but 
 he had the good sense to restrain himself, and rising to take 
 his leave — " The hours gallop," said he to his host ; "let us 
 leave our empty glasses and our discussions, which are little 
 less so." 
 
 As they were going out of the house, the one to retire, and 
 the other conducting him, they perceived a young woman 
 
THE COOPER OF NEKEMBEEG. 27 
 
 with five little boys. " Oh, heavens ! " exclaimed Rosa, 
 c ■ Valentine is dead, for there are his wife and children ! ' y 
 
 " What do I hear ?" said master Martin. "Can Valen- 
 tine be dead ? Oh, what a frightful misfortune ! He was the 
 most skilful of my workmen, and the most upright one that I 
 have ever known. He wounded himself with his adz several 
 days ago. The wound became inflamed ; gangrene came to 
 aid the fever, and the poor devil dies in the flower of his age." 
 
 Then comes the disconsolate wife, complaining to see her 
 children doomed to misery. 
 
 M How then," exclaimed master Martin — " how can you 
 think that I will abandon you after your husband has died in 
 my service ? Not so, good woman ; it shall not be as long as 
 master Martin lives, and as long as God preserves his fortune. 
 You all belong to my family from this day. To-morrow you 
 will go and establish yourself, with your children, in my farm 
 house outside of the Frauenthor, and I will go and see you 
 every day. You will take the management of my house, and 
 I will bring up your boys so that they will become good and 
 substantial workmen. You have still an old father who 
 worked well in his time. If his strength no longer allows 
 him to do much, labor, he can always be useful in some man- 
 ner. Take him with you, then ; you will all be welcome." 
 
 At these words the poor widow felt so much joy, that she 
 was near minting. Master Martin pressed her hand affection- 
 ately, whilst the little children, whom Iiosa was loading with 
 caresses, clung to him on all sides. The counsellor Jacob 
 Paumgartner could not restrain a big tear*. 
 
 " Master Martin," exclaimed he, " you are a singular man; 
 and in whatever humor we find yen. there is no such thing as 
 being angry with you." 
 
 iV^d they separated, ' 
 
28 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 V. 
 
 On a verdant lawn, from whence the eye loses itself in the 
 distance amid the flowery horizon, do you see that fine young 
 man seated in the simple costume of a laborer, which takes 
 nothing from his good looks ? Frederick is his name. The 
 sun is half plunged into the purple of evening, and its last 
 rays sprinkle with ruddy flames the vault of the sky. In the 
 distance spring into the air the fretted spires of the royal city 
 of Nuremberg. Silence reigns in the deserted country. The 
 shadow lengthens, and comes nearer and nearer. The young 
 workman is leaning on his travelling bag, and his animated 
 look seems to interrogate the depths of the valley. His care- 
 less hand plucks the petals of several pinks, and suffers them 
 to be carried away by the breath of the breeze. Then his 
 eyes gradually veil themselves and become sad ; his chest 
 rises, swelled by a secret emotion, and tears escape, drop by 
 drop, from his half-closed eyelids. But a sudden thought 
 gives him courage and strength ■ for he raises his head, opens 
 his arms as if to clasp a cherished being, and his fresh and 
 pure voice improvises one of those little simple songs that the 
 children of old Germany imagine so well : 
 
 Oh country, ever sweet, 
 My eyes dost thou greet ? 
 From thee far away 
 Could my faithful heart stay ? 
 
 From thy warm-tinted sky, 
 The elouds seem to fly ; 
 And roses so sweet, 
 Seem to fall at my feet. 
 
 My heart bounds with joy, 
 That love will not cloy, 
 For each step brings me near 
 To the rose I hold dear, 
 
 My love messengers be, 
 To her I would see, 
 Sweet twilight of gold ! 
 Sweet evening star bold ! 
 
TIIE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 29 
 
 To the rose that I cherish 
 Carry joy that will nourish ; 
 For her that I burn, 
 Take the kiss of return. 
 
 Should I die ere her I see, 
 And she asks for me, 
 Say that in her love perished 
 Is the heart that she cherished. 
 
 When Frederick had sung, he took from his wallet a little 
 piece of wax, softened it with his breath, and moulded with 
 his fingers a pretty hundred-leafed rose ; and whilst doing this 
 delicate work, he repeated, in a low yoice, the couplets of his 
 song, without noticing another young man standing before 
 him, and very attentively examining his work. 
 
 " Well, truly, my friend," said the new comer, " that is a 
 charming work that you are doing there." Frederick raised 
 his eyes, and fixing on the stranger a look of sweet and calm 
 expression — " How can you, my dear sir," said he to him, 
 " find any merit in what is to me nothing but a passing 
 amusement ? ' ' 
 
 "The devil ! " continued the unknown; "if you call 
 amusement the work that you are now doing with such piquant 
 perfection, you must be some artist of high renown. I am 
 doubly charmed with the chance that has caused our meeting, 
 for I am moved by the delicious song that you were warbling 
 after the style of Martin Haescher ; and I admire besides the 
 address with which you sieze the ideal of form. How far do 
 you think of going this evening ? ' ' 
 
 " The destination is before us," answered Frederick. " I 
 am returning to my country ; I am going back to Nuremberg. 
 But the sun is setting, night is falling, and I am going to 
 seek for shelter in the next village. To-morrow's dawn will 
 find me on the way to Nuremberg." 
 
 " Let us then finish the trip together," exclaimed the un- 
 known. " We will share the same lodging to-night, and to- 
 morrow we will enter Nuremberg together." 
 
30 Hoffmann's stbangi stokies. 
 
 At these words Reinhold, for that was the name of the 
 young man, threw himself on the grass by the side of Fred- 
 erick, and continuing his questions— " Are you not," said he, 
 " an artist goldsmith ? I suppose, after what I have seen you 
 model, that you generally work in materials of gold and sil- 
 ver?" 
 
 " Alas, my dear sir," answered Frederick, without raising 
 his eyes, which were fixed on the earth, "lam neither worthy 
 of the fine name of artist, nor capable of executing what you 
 suppose. I am nothing, I must tell you, but a poor journey- 
 man cooper, and I am going to Nuremberg with the hope of 
 working with a master whose renown is spread throughout 
 Germany. Instead of moulding or chiselling figures, I simply 
 make cask hoops." 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Reinhold, " do you believe me stupid 
 enough to disdain your profession ? One confidence is well 
 worth another ; know then that I also am a cooper." 
 
 Frederick questioned by a glance the person who thus 
 spoke to him ; for the equipment of Eeinhold resembled but 
 little the costume of a journeyman cooper. His black small 
 clothes were of fine stuff, with velvet slashes. A broad and 
 short sword hung by his side, and his head-dress was a cap 
 ornamented with a long floating feather. It would have been 
 said, on seeing him, that he was some rich merchant ; and yet 
 there was in his whole person I know not what of eccentricity 
 and extreme freedom, that silenced such a supposition. 
 
 Reinhold, understanding the doubt of Frederick, took from 
 his travelling bag a cooper's apron and an adz — "Look here, 
 my friend," said he to Frederick ; " dost thou still think that 
 I have lied, and that I am not a simple workman like thyself? 
 I conceive thy surprise at seeing me thus splendidly costumed ; 
 but it will immediately cease, when I tell thee that I come 
 from Strasburg, where all the journeymen coopers are dressed 
 like princes. Formerly, I sought strenuously to get out of 
 the rut, and enter the adventurous career of art ; but I am 
 well cured of that fancy, so far that now I see nothing above 
 
THE COOPER OE NUREMBERG. 31 
 
 my calling of cooper ; and I have even attached to it hopes for 
 the future. But thou, comrade, of what art thou thinking ? 
 Thy face is sad, and thy look seems to fear to near the future ! 
 Thou wast just singing with a feeling of melancholy, and I 
 believed, under the empire of a singular fascination, that thy 
 soft accents came out of my own breast to pass into thine. It 
 might be said that thy heart opens before me like a book. 
 Give me thy whole confidence ; and since we are going, both 
 of us, to fix ourselves at Nuremberg, let us fomi together, 
 from this moment, a union of solid friendship." 
 
 Frederick threw his arms round the neck of his new friend. 
 
 " Yes," continued he, " the more I look at thee, the more 
 I feel my sympathy increase. In the depths of my heart 
 vibrates a sweet voice which seems to answer to the sweet call 
 of friendship. Oh ! I wish that my soul might mingle with 
 thine ; for there is in life things that the heart alone under- 
 stands — pains which it alone has the means of softening ; — 
 listen, then, to the history of the few events that have taken 
 place during my life. From early youth I had dreamed for 
 myself the glory of the artist. I aspired to the happiness of 
 equalling in the art of moulding and chasing metal, master 
 Peter Fischer, or Benvenuto Cellini. I made my first at- 
 tempts under the instruction of Johannes Holzschuer, the 
 most celebrated worker in silver in my country. This master 
 was frequently visited by master Tobias Martin, the cooper, 
 who brought with him his daughter, the delicious Rosa. I 
 became enamored of this young girl, without being able to 
 explain to myself the mystery of this passion. I quitted my 
 country, and I went to Augsburg, to accelerate the progress 
 of my apprenticeship ; but hardly was I separated from her 
 who had taken possession of my heart and all my thoughts, 
 than I had constantly before my eyes the celestial image of 
 Rosa. Labor became painful to me. I no longer had more 
 than one study, that of reaching the felicity that I dreamed of 
 At last the news having reached me that master Martin had 
 announced that he would only give his daughter to the most 
 
82 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 skilful cooper in the city, I renounced my vocation of artist, 
 to become a workman. I have now come back to Nuremberg 
 to beg master Martin to accept me as one of his journeymen. 
 But the nearer I approach to the fulfilment of my wishes, and 
 the more I think of Rosa, who must be much improved by 
 this time, timidity and the fear of being refused, struggle in 
 my soul ; for I know not if I am loved, or if I can ever hope 
 to be." 
 
 Reinhold had listened to the story of Frederick with mute 
 attention. When this confidence was ended, he spoke ; but 
 his features expressed a painful anxiety, which he tried in vain 
 to conceal. "Is it true," said he at last, " that Rosa has 
 never given you any pledge of affection ?" 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Frederick. " Rosa was only a child 
 when I left Nuremberg. I can suppose, without vanity, that 
 I was not disagreeable to her. When I plucked for her the 
 finest flowers in Mr. Holzschuer's garden, she always thanked 
 me with angelic smiles ; but ' ' 
 
 " There is then a gleam of hope for me!" exclaimed Rein- 
 hold, with an explosion of vivacity which made his friend 
 tremble. His tall figure straightened, his sword rattled by his 
 side, and his eyes flashed. 
 
 " For heaven's sake ! " asked Frederick, " what is passing 
 in thy mind ?" 
 
 And before this face, then so sweet, and now so violently 
 agitated, he could not avoid a shudder ; and, making a step 
 backwards, he struck his foot against Reinhold's travelling 
 bag. This shock sounded a mandolin that was tied to the 
 baggage. 
 
 " Accursed companion ! " cried Reinhold, throwing at him 
 a savage and threatening glance. " Do not crush my man- 
 dolin ! " 
 
 And immediately taking the instrument, he struck the 
 strings with a violence that might have broken them ; then 
 suddenly a reaction took place in his movement ; he became 
 
THE COOPER OP NUREMBERG. 33 
 
 calm after this fever fit, and hanging the mandolin on his 
 back, he held out his hand to Frederick. 
 
 " Let us go, dear brother," said he affectionately — " let us 
 go to the neighboring village. I have a sure remedy to chase 
 away the phantoms that might attack us on the road." 
 
 " Well, my friend, of what phantoms could we be afraid ? 
 Let us descend into the valley, and sing, sing on ! I feel un- 
 speakable pleasure in listening to thee." 
 
 Myriads of brilliant stars studded the sombre blue of the 
 sky. The night wind rustled the high grass ; the brooks ran 
 murmuring along their borders, and the voices of the solitude 
 were prolonged like sighs from an organ under the dome of 
 the forests. 
 
 Frederick and Eeinhold slowly descended the road that 
 conducted to the village. When they reached the inn, Eein- 
 hold, throwing aside his travelling gear, pressed Frederick to 
 his heart, and wept long and earnestly. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The following day, Frederick, on awaking, no longer finding 
 his new friend lying by his side, thought that he had perhaps 
 changed his route, when Eeinhold reappeared suddenly before 
 him, his bag on his back, but in a different costume from that 
 which he had worn the evening before. He had taken from 
 his cap the long floating feather, no longer wore his short 
 sword, and a sack of very common stuff and color replaced the 
 elegant doublet which had set off the beauty of his form. 
 
 " Well, brother," exclaimed he, " wouldst thou take me 
 now for a good and hearty workman, such as I wish to be ? 
 But for a lover, thou hast, it seems to me, slept famously. 
 Look and see how high the sun is already. Come quickly- 
 some courage, and more legs ! " 
 
 Frederick, absorbed in thoughts of the future, hardly an- 
 swered the words of Eeinhold, who, completely electrified by a 
 
oi HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 strange joyousness, talked at random, throwing his cap into 
 the air, and capering like a mad man. When they approached 
 the city, Frederick became still more serious, and stopping 
 suddenly, he exclaimed — " No, I cannot really go another 
 step ! Sadness weighs upon my heart, and I can no longer 
 support it. Let me seek a short repose under these trees." 
 
 On saying this, he threw himself on the ground, as if anni- 
 hilated. Keinhold seated himself by his side, and began to 
 talk of the night before. 
 
 " Last evening," said he, " I must have given you a 
 strange surprise. When you related to me your love adven- 
 ture, and when you deplored the uncertainty of the future, I 
 felt myself an agitation which I could not explain. My brain 
 was in a ferment ; I should have become mad, if, when I met 
 thee, thy sweet patriotic song had not calmed me as if by a 
 miracle. This morning I awoke joyous and cheerful ; the 
 phantoms which had possessed me yesterday are vanished, and 
 I have recovered calmness and serenity of mind. I no longer 
 remembered any thing but the lucky chance which led to our 
 meeting ; and I think of nothing more than cultivating the 
 friendship which I had conceived for thee at first sight. 
 Friendship is a gift from heaven, whose fruits are invaluable. 
 I wish in this connection to relate to thee a touching event 
 which took place, several years ago, in Italy, at a time when 
 I made a short stay there myself. Listen attentively : 
 
 " There was a noble prince, a friend to art, and an enlight- 
 ened protector of true talent, who had put up for competition 
 a considerable prize for the best painting of a very interesting 
 subject, the details of which were surrounded with difficulties. 
 Two young artists, who were united by the most tender affec- 
 tion, and who lived and worked together, presented themselves 
 to dispute the prize. They placed in common, to tempt suc- 
 cess, all that they possessed of imagination and practical 
 science. The eldest, endowed with great aptitude for drawing 
 and composition, drew the sketch almost instantaneously, 
 Before the bold stroke of a mind powerful to create, the 
 
THE COOrEK OF NUREMBERG. 35 
 
 youngest felt discouraged, and he would have abandoned his 
 brushes, if his friend had not sustained him by energetic 
 counsels. When they had commenced to paint, the youngest 
 took his revenge from the first day, by the delicacy of his 
 touch and the fineness of his coloring, which he carried as far 
 as the most experienced artists could have done. There re- 
 sulted from this association of two talents, that the youngest 
 of the two friends placed at the exhibition a picture of exqui- 
 site perfection of drawing, and the eldest for his part had 
 never before produced any thing more delicately executed. 
 When the two pieces were finished, the two masters threw 
 themselves into each other's arms, congratulating themselves 
 on the success which they had promised each other. The 
 youngest obtained the prize. 
 
 " 'Oh!' exclaimed he, ' how can I accept the golden 
 laurel ! What would be my solitary work without the counsel 
 and touches of my friend ! ' 
 
 ' ' And the eldest answered him — ' Hast thou not also aided 
 me by thy advice ? We have united in each of our works all 
 that we both possessed of experience and imagination, for the 
 purpose of arriving at success. The triumph of one of us is 
 not a defeat for the other. Glory always covers two friends 
 like us with the same crown.' 
 
 "The painter was right, was he not, Frederick? Can 
 jealousy ever find access to noble souls ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, no!" exclaimed Frederick; "thus our friendship 
 lates from our first meeting ; and, in a few days, the same 
 -abors will occupy us in the same city. Who knows but that 
 loon we shall rival each other as to who shall make the best, 
 without fire, a fine mammoth tun, as masterpiece of an accom- 
 plished journeyman ! May God preserve from all low envy 
 the one of us that shall receive the prize for the work ! " 
 
 "W T hat say you?" continued Reinhold, with joyful viva- 
 city. " But I wish that each one of us shall help the other. 
 And truly I give you notice, that for all that relates to draw- 
 ing, to the science of measuring and guaging, you will find in 
 
36 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 me positive guidance ; more than that, as regards the choice 
 of woods, you can rely upon me. I will guide thee in thy 
 work with devoted zeal, without fearing that my masterpiece 
 will be less perfect, because I shall have communicated to a 
 friend the secrets of my art." 
 
 " Well, my dear Reinhold," interrupted Frederick, " why 
 are we talking now of masterpieces and rivalry ? Has the time 
 arrived for contending for the beautiful Rosa ? Truly, all my 
 ideas are stirred up in my poor head ! ' ' 
 
 " And who, then, speaks to thee of Rosa?" said Reinhold, 
 with a burst of laughter. " I believe that you are dreaming 
 with your eyes open. Come, we are not yet at our journey's 
 end." 
 
 Frederick took the road again, and they reached the nearest 
 inn, at the entrance of the city. 
 
 " To whom shall I offer my services ? " said Reinhold. 
 
 " I know no one there, unless, dear brother, you will con- 
 duct me to master Martin." 
 
 ' ; Oh, thanks for that thought," answered Frederick, has- 
 tily. " Yes, we will go together and find master Martin. I 
 feel that with you I shall have less fear, and I shall be less 
 troubled in re-entering that house." 
 
 The two friends, after having equipped themselves like 
 respectable working men, went from the inn to go and visit 
 master Martin. That day was the precise Sunday fixed upon 
 by the rich cooper to celebrate by a banquet his election to 
 the respectable office of the master of the candles. It was 
 towards noon when our young travellers entered his house, 
 which resounded with the clinking of glasses and the joyful 
 conversation of the guests. 
 
 " Unfortunate moment ! " exclaimed Frederick. 
 
 " On the contrary," said Reinhold ; "it is in the midst of 
 joy excited by generous wines, that men are most accessible, 
 and I engage that master Martin will give us a good welcome. 
 
 At this moment, master Martin, to whom their presence 
 had been announced, came towards them, his walk a little 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 37 
 
 unsteady, and his cheeks sufficiently rubicund. He imme- 
 diately recognized Frederick — " It is thou, my fine boy," 
 exclaimed he; "thou hast returned again. That is well; 
 that is well. Hast thou learned the noble profession of cooper ? 
 I remember that the mad master Holzschuer pretended, when 
 I spoke to him concerning thee, that thou wast formed for 
 carving figures and balustrades, like what are seen here in the 
 church of Saint Sebald, and at Augsburg in the house of 
 Fugger. But all those stories had very little effect on me, 
 and I congratulate thee on having chosen for thyself the good 
 calling. Be then a thousand times welcome at my house." 
 
 Speaking thus, master Martin closely embraced him. Poor 
 Frederick felt his courage return in the arms of the cooper, 
 and he hastened to profit by this fortunate opportunity to 
 solicit the admission of himself and companion into the work- 
 shop of master Martin. 
 
 " Be thou still more, and both of you, welcome," added the 
 cooper, "for at this moment work is coming in from all 
 quarters, and good workmen are rare. Throw down your 
 travelling bags, and come into our banquet ; dinner is nearly 
 at an end, but we shall yet find for you some scraps, and Rosa 
 will take charge of you and treat you well." 
 
 They all three entered the dining-room. All the venerable 
 masters of the society of coopers were joyfully seated at tables 
 presided over by the worthy chief, Jacob Paumgartner. These 
 gentlemen were at dessert, and Rhine wine sparkled like 
 gilded wares in goblets of great capacity. The conversation 
 was very animated, and interrupted by hearty bursts of laugh- 
 ter, which made the glasses tremble ; but when master Martin 
 appeared, with the two companions whom he wished to pre- 
 sent, all eyes were turned towards the new comers, and silence 
 reigned as if by enchantment. Reinhold threw an assured 
 glance around him ; but Frederick, his eyes cast down, felt 
 his heart ready to fail him. 
 
 Master Martin placed the two friends at the end of the 
 table : and that place, the humblest a moment since, became 
 4 
 
38 Hoffmann's strange stoiqes. 
 
 immediately enviable, when the pretty Rosa came and seated 
 herself between the two guests, busily occupying herself in 
 offering them the best wines and the most delicate viands. 
 
 Frederick, by the side of this delicious creature, could hardly 
 restrain his emotion ; and, with his eyes fixed upon his plate, 
 as yet full, for he was too much in love to swallow a single 
 mouthful, he said in his soul a thousand tender things to his 
 beloved. As for Reinhold, he was a free liver, very attentive 
 to the attractions of the young girl, and very prone to become 
 affected by them. 
 
 Rosa could not refrain from feeling a secret pleasure in 
 listening to the details of his journey. It seemed to her that 
 she saw appear, under real forms, all the events of his life that 
 he related. Her heart allowed itself to be captivated invol- 
 untarily by the charm of this eccentricity of character, and she 
 had not the strength to withdraw her hand, which Reinhold 
 had taken several times, and pressed in a very significant 
 manner. 
 
 Meanwhile Frederick, incited by his friend, had drunk a 
 full goblet of Rhine wine. The heat of this liquid mounted 
 to his brain, and loosened his tongue ; he became more ani- 
 mated, and his blood circulated more freely. 
 
 " Grod ! how happy I feel !" exclaimed he suddenly. 
 " I feel an ineffable joyfulness ! " 
 
 The daughter of master Martin could not restrain, at these 
 words, a malicious smile. 
 
 "Rosa J" continued Frederick, " can I dare believe that 
 you have borne me in remembrance ? " 
 
 * ' How could I have forgotten you ? ' ' answered the young 
 girl. " I remember the dear days of my early childhood, 
 when you liked to play with me ; and I have kept with great 
 care that little basket made of silver wire, that you gave me 
 one Christmas eve." 
 
 " Rosa, my beloved ! " exclaimed Frederick, beside him- 
 self, his breathing accelerated, and his eyes flashing. 
 
 " I awaited your return with much impatience," continued 
 
THE COOPER OP NUREMBERG. 39 
 
 Rosa. " But when I think of the pretty work that you for- 
 merly executed under master Holzschuer, I cannot imagine or 
 understand how you have quitted the career of artist to become 
 a journeyman cooper in my father's workshop." 
 
 " But that is on your account,' ' interrupted Frederick 
 enthusiastically. "It is for you alone that I have made this 
 sacrifice. " 
 
 He had hardly uttered these words, when he blushed and 
 trembled as if something had escaped him which he ought not 
 to have said. There was, certainly, a little imprudence in this 
 confession so unseasonably uttered. 
 
 Bosa, who had very well understood him, lowered her 
 glance, blushed, and remained silent, until, by a lucky chance 
 which relieved her from her embarrassing position, master 
 Jacob Paumgartner, knocking on the table with his knife, to 
 command silence, announced that master Vollrad, the most 
 celebrated singing master in the city, was about to sing a song. 
 
 Master Vollrad immediately arose, coughed, spit, blew his 
 nose, struck a position, then sang, in a full and sonorous 
 voice, a national song, composed by Hans Yogelgesang. All 
 the guests felt as if electrified, and Frederick himself regained 
 his youthful assurance. 
 
 After the singing master had sung several pieces, in various 
 styles, he invited some of his friends to follow him. Beinhold 
 took his mandolin, and after having sweetly preluded, he sang 
 the following words : 
 
 The cooper's trade is noble., 
 
 And may his companions be, 
 JiOve— pure, chaste and stable ; 
 
 Wine^— generous, rich and free. 
 
 Where is the little spring, 
 
 Whence comes the generous wine ? 
 
 It from the glorious cask they bring, 
 And call its taste divine. 
 
 Who makes the precious cask, 
 
 "For the cherished little spring ? 
 That always was the cooper's task, 
 
 And glory may it always bring. 
 
40 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 When the cooper drinks his wine, 
 Prom his goblet both rich and rare, 
 
 The bubbles upon the wine do shine, 
 And the journeyman claims his share. 
 
 The cooper's trade is noble, 
 
 And may his companions be, 
 Love — pure, chaste and stable ; 
 
 Wine — generous, rich and free. 
 
 Applause, loud and long, drowned the voice of the singer j 
 but no one in the audience appeared to be better pleased than 
 master Martin. And without listening to the jealous com- 
 ments of Vollrad, who exerted himself to prove that Reinhold's 
 method had some of the imperfections of Hans Muller, he 
 filled and raised as high as he could the largest festive goblet, 
 and cried out — " Come here, my good companion and joyful 
 singing master, come and take a drink from the cup of master 
 Martin." 
 
 Reinhold obeyed ; then, returning to his place, he told 
 Frederick, in a whisper, to pay for his entertainment by sing- 
 ing the song which he had sung the night before. 
 
 " The devil take the mad man ! " growled Frederick with 
 a gesture of impatience. 
 
 But Reinhold, without taking notice of it, rose and said 
 aloud — " My venerable masters and lords, here is my dear 
 brother Frederick, who knows better than myself a crowd of 
 ballads and songs, with which he would regale you, if his 
 throat was not a little dry from the dust that we have met 
 with on our route ; it shall then be, if you will permit it, for 
 your next meeting." 
 
 At these words, all began to compliment Frederick. There 
 were even some honest people, who took a notion, without 
 having heard it, to set a higher estimate upon his voice than 
 upon the talents of Reinhold, 
 
 Master Vollrad, who had just engulphed an enormous gob- 
 let, pretended, that Reinhold's method resembled too much 
 the insipid Italian style, and that Frederick's alone preserved 
 the natural German stamp. 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 41 
 
 As for master Martin, he threw himself back in his arm- 
 chair, according to his old custom, and striking with little 
 measured blows his belly, swelled like a balloon, he exclaimed, 
 "Here are, gentlemen — here are, indeed, my companions, 
 the joyful table and workshop companions of master Tobias 
 Martin, the most celebrated cooper in Nuremberg ! " 
 
 The company found no objection to make to this declaration ; 
 and after having drowned in the bottom of their goblets the 
 little that remained to them of reason and solidity of leg, they 
 staggeringly separated to go to their beds. As for Frederick 
 and Reinhold, master Martin opened a very gay little chamber 
 for them in his house. 
 
 TIL 
 
 After several weeks of trial and labor, master Martin no- 
 ticed in Reinhold uncommon skilfulness in the art of measur- 
 ing and calculating with the assistance of dividers and lines ; 
 but he was a feeble workman for the labor of the workshop, 
 whilst Frederick was indefatigable. For the rest, they were 
 both commendable for then good conduct. From morning 
 till night, they charmed the hours by joyous songs, of which 
 Reinhold possessed a rich store ; and when Frederick, privately 
 catching sight of the pretty Rosa, suddenly took a saddened 
 tone, Reinhold immediately sang these joking words-—" The 
 cask is not a lute — the lute is not a cask ! " and old master 
 Martin, who did not see the meaning, often remained with his 
 arm raised, without striking, and laughing heartily. But the 
 little Rosa, who understood more, knew well how to make a 
 thousand and one excuses to come into the workshop. One 
 fine day master Martin entered his workshop with a care-worn 
 look. His two favorite workmen were adjusting a cask. He 
 stopped before them with his arms folded. 
 
 "My good friends," said he to them, " I am very well 
 satisfied with you and your labors, and yet I am very much 
 
42 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 embarrassed. They write me that the harvest of Rhine wine 
 must exceed this year all that has ever been known before ; a 
 famous astrologer has predicted the appearance of a comet, 
 whose heat must produce a marvellous fertility ; the fruits of 
 the vine will be increased a hundred fold, and that this sur- 
 prising meteor will not appear again in three hundred years. 
 You can judge of what an enormous quantity of work is about 
 to flow into my workshop. And even now, the venerable 
 bishop of Bamberg, the greatest epicure in Germany, has sent 
 me an order for an immense tun. We shall never be able, 
 by ourselves, to execute all the jobs which will be offered us ; 
 and I must really engage another workman, skilful, zealous 
 and active, like yourselves. God preserve me from getting 
 here any fellow of whom I am not very sure. What is to be 
 done, then, when time presses, and we wish to be well served ? 
 Can you not point out to me some clever fellow of your 
 acquaintance? From whatever distance it is necessary to 
 bring him, and whatever sum it costs me, I am ready 
 for it," 
 
 Master Martin had hardly finished this speech, when the 
 door of the workshop was burst open, and a tall, broad shoul- 
 dered young man cried, in a stentorian voice — " Hallo ! is 
 this master Martin's workshop ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly this is the place," answered master Martin, 
 himself going towards the stranger ; ' ' but you could have 
 entered, my boy, without acting as though you meant to break 
 every thing, and above all, don't scream so loudly. That is 
 not the way to come into people's houses." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " continued the young man, laughing hear- 
 tily. "You are, perhaps, Martin himself; big belly and 
 double chin, bright eyes and ruby nose ; that's it, exactly ; 
 the description given me is the most exact. Master Martin, 
 I salute you with veneration ! " 
 
 "And what the devil do you want of master Martin?" 
 asked the cooper ungraciously. 
 
 * 
 
THE COOPEIl OF NUREMBERG. 4o 
 
 " I am," replied tlie young man, " a journeyman cooper 
 of some merit, and I want "work." 
 
 Muster Martin started back, struck with surprise at seeing 
 so stout a workman present himself in his precise time of need. 
 He examined the new comer, and, pleased to find him so 
 vigorously formed, he hastened to ask him for the certificates 
 of the masters with whom he had worked. 
 
 " I have nothing of that kind with me," replied the young 
 man •; ' * but in a few days I will send for them ; at present I 
 think it quite sufficient to give you my word as an honest and 
 good workman." 
 
 And without giving master Martin time to seek for an 
 answer, the young journeyman, going to the end of the work- 
 shop, threw into a corner his cap and his travelling bag, ex- 
 claiming, in a decided manner — " Let us see, master Martin, 
 what shall I begin with ? ' ' 
 
 Master Martin, very much surprised at this unceremonious 
 manner, which did not seem to admit of the possibility of a 
 refusal, reflected a few minutes ; then, addressing the stran- 
 ger—" Comrade," said he to him, " since you are so sure of 
 yourself, give me an off-hand proof of your skill. Take an 
 adz, and shave and finish polishing the hoops that are to 
 encircle this hogshead." 
 
 The stranger workman did not wait for a second bidding, 
 and in the twinkling of an eye the trial job was perfect. 
 li Well," said he, then, with his joyous laugh — " well, master 
 Martin, do you still doubt my skilfulness ? Now, then, I 
 should like to examine a little the quality of the tools that 
 are used here." 
 
 Speaking thus, he moved them about, examining each ar- 
 ticle in its turn, with the eye of a connoisseur. " Master," 
 said he, from time to time, " what is this hammer, I pray 
 you ? Is it not one of your children's toys ? And this little 
 adz, is it not for the use of the apprentices ?" At the same 
 time whirling in his powerful hand an enormous hammer, 
 which Remhold could not have used, and which Frederick 
 
44 Hoffmann's strange stoiues. 
 
 could hardly lift j he handled with the same case master 
 Martin's adz. Then continuing his feats of strength, he made 
 a pair of heavy tuns spin round with the same ease that he 
 would have handled simple barrels. At last, taking in both 
 hands a solid stave which had not been thinned by the shave — 
 "This," exclaimed he—" this is good oak, and that ouo-ht 
 to snap like glass ;" and suiting the action to the word, he 
 broke the stave as easily as if it were a shingle, on the edge 
 of the grindstone. 
 
 " By the relics of Saint Sebald, stop there, if you please, 
 my friend ! " exclaimed master Martin. " Would you not, 
 if I let you, break the bottom of this big tun, and split to 
 pieces my whole workshop ? Why don't you sieze that beam 
 and beat the whole house into ruins ! And don't you wish 
 me to get for you, as a shave, the sword of Roland, the knight, 
 which is kept at the City Hall of Nuremberg ! " 
 
 " Truly yes, if you please," answered the young man, 
 casting on master Martin a glance full of fire ; but he imme- 
 diately lowered his eyes, and continued in a softer voice — " I 
 only thought, dear master, that you might have need, for your 
 heavier work, of a vigorous workman, and I have, perhaps, 
 exceeded in your eyes the bounds of propriety. I beg you 
 will pardon me, and allow me to remain with you, to labor as 
 rudely as you may be pleased to require." 
 
 Master Martin grew more and more surprised. The sudden 
 calmness of the young man produced on him an undefinable 
 sensation. He could not tire with looking at his regularly 
 beautiful features, which shadowed forth a soul of the purest 
 honesty. He thought he could discover, in his physiognomy, 
 some resemblance with that of a man whom he had formerly 
 known and venerated, but whose remembrance only recalled to 
 him a remote likeness. He at last acceded to the entreaties 
 of the young workman, with the condition that he should 
 immediately produce the recommendations of the masters with 
 whom he had learned the trade of cooper, and received the 
 first degree. 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 45 
 
 Whilst this affair was being arranged, Eeinhold and Fred*- 
 erick were finishing their hogshead, and began to hoop it ; at 
 the same time, to lighten their labor, they sang oiie of Adam 
 Puschmann's songs. But immediately Conrad, (thus the new 
 workman called himself,) sprang from the bench, crying out — ■ 
 ' ' What is this charivari ? One wonld say that a million mice 
 were besieging the workshop ! If you will meddle with sing- 
 ing, try at least to do it in such manner as to give us heart to 
 labor. I could give you an example of what is necessary for 
 that." 
 
 And, in his stunning voice, Conrad began to howl a hunt- 
 ing song, crowded with choruses, which ended with hallo and 
 huzza. Now he imitated the barkings of a pack in full cry, 
 then the cries of the huntsmen, with such force that the house 
 trembled. Master Martin stopped his ears, and the children 
 of dame Martha, the widow of Valentine, who were playing 
 in the workshop, ran and hid themselves behind a pile of chip # s. 
 At the same time Rosa came, much frightened, and not 
 knowing what misfortune could have occasioned these unheard- 
 of bellowings. 
 
 As soon as Conrad perceived the beautiful young daughter 
 of master Martin, he stopped short in the middle of his song, 
 and going towards her, he. said to her, in the noblest manner 
 and the softest tone — " Oh, my charmer, what heavenly light 
 has illumined this poor workman's cabin since you entered ! 
 Oh, if I had known that you were so near, I should have 
 taken good care not to wound your delicate ears by my wild 
 song. Hallo, you others ! " continued he, addressing himself 
 to master Martin and the tw o journeymen ; ' ' ca*n you not 
 silence your mallets for a moment, whilst this dear young girl 
 is among us ? We ought to hear nothing but her sweet voice, 
 and we ought no longer to think of any other occupation than 
 that of hearing her will, and obeying it humbly ! " 
 
 Reinhold and Frederick exchanged a look which sufficiently 
 signified the discontent that this address occasioned them. As 
 for master Martin, he burst into a laugh, according to his 
 
46 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 praise-worthy custom, and answered — " Zounds, Conrad, you 
 appear to me the most singular screech-owl that ever put foot 
 into my house. You commenced here by threatening to crush 
 every thing under your ill-bred giant foot, then you stun us 
 with your barking, and, to crown all your follies, you treat 
 Rosa like a princess, and you use towards her the manners 
 and fine words of a great lord ! I believe, indeed, that a 
 madman's cell would suit you better than my workshop." 
 
 " Your dear daughter," replied Conrad, without appearing 
 to be offended by this cutting reproach — " your dear Rosa, 
 my worthy master, is, I can assure you, the most graceful and 
 the noblest creature in the universe ; and Heaven grant that 
 she will deign not to remain insensible to the homage of the 
 most gallant heir of noble race, who will place at her feet his 
 tender love and armorial bearings ! ' ' 
 
 Master Martin held his sides with both hands, but in spite 
 of his efforts, a homeric laugh seized him, and he rolled on the 
 bench like one possessed ; then when he had regained strength 
 to articulate — "At thy ease, good journeyman," exclaimed 
 he ; " give to my Rosa the most precious names that thou 
 canst imagine ; I place no obstacle in the way, on the con- 
 trary ; but I beg thee not to lose a blow of thy hammer, for 
 here work is before gallantry." 
 
 Conrad felt this reprimand pierce his heart like a red hot 
 iron ; his eyes flashed like lightning, but he restrained himself, 
 and answered coldly — " It is true ! " Then he returned to 
 his labor. 
 
 Rosa had seated herself by the side of her father, on a little 
 barrel, that Reinhold had just scraped to give it a more advan- 
 tageous look, and Frederick had just gallantly approached. 
 
 Master Martin begged his two favorite workmen to re-com- 
 mence, for the benefit of Rosa, the little song that Conrad had 
 so rudely interrupted. The latter remained silent, and no 
 longer appeared to have eyes for any thing but his work. 
 
 When the song was finished, master Martin continued the 
 conversation, and said—" Heaven has given you a fine talent. 
 
tllE COOPER OF XUEEMBEEG. 47 
 
 my dear companions ; you cannot imagine to what excess I 
 cany the passion for singing. I formerly had some serious 
 inclination towards the profession of singing-master, but noth- 
 ing succeeded with me, and I only obtained as the fruit of my 
 labors, jokes and jeers ; for at one time I sang in a false key, 
 or out of time ; and when singing correctly, by chance, I 
 always mixed up the melody. Xow. then, I am very glad to 
 see that you do better than your master ; and I should be 
 very glad to acknowledge that the workmen of Tobias Martin 
 have succeeded, where he had failed. Xext Sunday, the 
 singing-master will give a concert in the church of Saint 
 Catherine. You will both of you be able to co-operate at it 
 in a very brilliant manner, for a part of the time will be de- 
 voted to strangers, who wish to be heard before a discrimina- 
 ting public. So then, master Conrad," continued master 
 Martin, turning to his third workman, if your heart leads you 
 to desire to gratify them with your wild song, you will be able 
 to do it quite at your ease." 
 
 " Why do you laugh at me, dear master ? " answered Con- 
 rad, without raising his eyes. ' ; There is a time for every 
 thing, and I count on passing the time that you devote to the 
 concert, in rambling through the flowery meadows." 
 
 What master Martin had foreseen happened. Reinhold 
 mounted the stage, and sung several pieces to the satisfaction 
 of all. When Frederick followed him, he threw on the 
 assembly around him, for several minutes, a long and melan- 
 choly look, that went to Rosa's heart. Then he sang, in a 
 gracefully modulated voice, a song of Heinrich Frauenlob, 
 which was enthusiastically applauded, for all the singers im- 
 mediately recognized how much the young stranger excelled 
 them all. 
 
 When night came, and the conceit was ended, master Mar- 
 tin, charmed with the success of his two favorite companions, 
 allowed them to accompany him with his daughter to a flowery 
 lawn, which was on the outskirts of the city. Rosa walked 
 slowly and gracefully between the two voung men. Frederick, 
 
48 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 proud of the praises which had been lavished on him in her 
 presence by the singers, made bold to slip into her ear some 
 sweet expressions, whose amorous intentions were easily 
 guessed, but of which, from modesty, the young girl appeared 
 not to understand the true meaning. Instead of listening to 
 Frederick, she apparently attended to Reinhold, who pushed 
 audacity or freedom so far as to take possession, without cere- 
 mony, of the prettiest little arm that ever a feminine creature 
 owned. 
 
 On arriving at the meadow that served on that day as the 
 object of their promenade, they found groups of young men 
 practising all kinds of games of exercise, in which physical 
 strength decided the victory. Shouts and hurras came con- 
 tinually from the crowd of spectators. Master Martin, curious 
 like the rest, elbowed his way through the crowd, to get a' 
 nearer view of the conqueror who received these ovations. It 
 was no other than his workman Conrad, who took all the 
 prizes in the race, at wrestling, and in throwing the bar. At 
 the moment master Martin approached, Conrad, raising his 
 voice, challenged the most skilful of his rivals to a bout of 
 fencing. Several combats took place, in which Conrad always 
 had the advantage ; so that he carried off, without exception, 
 all the honors of that day. 
 
 The sun was setting ; the rosy flames of the dawning twi- 
 light extended themselves like a bar of gold in the horizon. 
 Master Martin, Kosa, and the two journeymen coopers, were 
 seated in a circle near a sparkling fountain, which spread 
 freshness and fertility on the green. Reinhold related a 
 thousand remembrances of brilliant Italy; but Frederick, 
 buried up in himself, kept his eyes fastened on those of Kosa. 
 Now here is Conrad, who approaches them slowly, like a man 
 who has a project, but hesitates about putting it into execution. 
 
 "Well, Conrad, come here," cried out master Martin to 
 him, as soon, as he saw him. " You have had fine and joyful 
 success in ail the physical games, and I sincerely congratulate 
 you. I like to see my journeymen distinguish themselves in 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 49 
 
 any thing. Come, then, and place yourself there, quite near 
 us." 
 
 Conrad, instead of being touched by this cordiality, threw 
 on his master a proud and disdainful glance, and said — "It 
 was not you that I sought here, and you can believe that I 
 should have no need of permission to seat myself near you, if 
 I wished to do so. I have to-day vanquished all those who 
 tried to wrestle with me, and I wished to supplicate your 
 beautiful young daughter to grant me, as the price of my 
 victories, the perfumed bouquet which reposes on her bosom. ■ ' 
 Saying this, he humbly bent his knee before Rosa, whom 
 he gazed at with fiery glance. " Beautiful Rosa," said he to 
 her, " do not refuse me this trifling but precious favor." 
 
 Master Martin's daughter could not resist this prayer, so 
 courteously made. " A knight of your merit," answered she, 
 * ' ought to receive some souvenir from the lady of his thoughts. 
 I will let you take this bouquet, but see how its flowers are 
 already faded ! " 
 
 Conrad covered the flowers with burning kisses, and at- 
 tached them to his cap, in spite of master Martin, who ap- 
 peared to be annoyed by these familiarities. " Come, come," 
 exclaimed he. " let us quit this folly, for it is time to regain 
 our home." 
 
 Master Martin took the lead. Conrad took the young girl's 
 arm with a hasty gallantry, which singularly differed from his 
 habitual manner. Reinhold and Frederick followed, with a 
 cold and sullen look. Every one seeing them pass in this 
 manner, said — " See there ! that is the rich cooper, Tobias 
 Martin, and his worthy journeymen." 
 
 VXIL 
 
 From the dawn of the following day, the pretty Rosa alone, 
 seated near the window of her little chamber, sweetly medi- 
 tated on the preceding evening. Her work of embroidery had 
 
50 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 slipped from her lap to the ground ; her white hands, blue- 
 veined, were joined as if for prayer ; and her charming head 
 was bent upon her bosom. Who could say where her thoughts 
 were wandering at this moment ? Perhaps she thought in an 
 innocent dream, still listening to the tender songs of Reinhold 
 and Frederick ; or perhaps she liked better to see handsome 
 Conrad, kneeling and asking, with so ardent a look, so caress- 
 ing a voice, the price of the victories he had gained in yester- 
 day's games. Now the lips of the young girl murmured some 
 notes of a song, then they allowed to escape, by syllables 
 obscured by a half slumber — " Do you wish for my bouquet ?" 
 At this time a practised eye would have surprised on her 
 cheeks a reflection rosier than ordinary. Beneath her eyelids, 
 nearly closed, he would have seen a rapid glance make her 
 dark lashes tremble ; he would have guessed the secret of the 
 sigh that swelled her slender waist. But just then dame 
 Martha, the widow of Valentine, entered the little chamber, 
 and Rosa, suddenly awaking to her remembrance, took the 
 occasion to relate to her, with all its details, the feast of Saint 
 Catherine, and the evening's walk in the flowery field. When 
 she had finished this important recital, dame Martha said to 
 her, smilingly — -' * I hope that you are happy, my dear Rosa ; 
 here are three fine gallants, from among whom you are free to 
 choose." 
 
 " For heaven's sake ! " exclaimed tho young girl, blushing 
 in her fright — " for heaven's sake, what do you tell me ? — I, 
 three gallants !" 
 
 " And why not ? " replied Martha-; " is it with me that it 
 is necessary to make a mystery concerning a thing that is 
 apparent to the eyes of every body ? Do you think that it is 
 not well known, at present, that the three journeymen of 
 master Martin have conceived a violent passion for you ? " 
 
 " Oh, what do you tell me ! " interrupted Rosa, hiding her 
 face in her hands, whilst the tears came into her eyes. 
 
 " Come, my dear child," replied Martha, drawing Rosa 
 towards her; "come, my good Rosa, do not hide the truth 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 51 
 
 from me ; it cannot be that you have not perceived that these 
 three young men forget their work as soon as you are near 
 them, and that their mallets miss the blow, because they can- 
 not take their eyes from you. Do not young girls immediately 
 guess these things ? Do you not well know that Reinhold 
 and Frederick keep their finest songs for the time that you 
 come to work by the side of your father ? Have you not re- 
 marked the sudden change that takes place in the rade man- 
 ners of the savage Conrad ? Each one of your glances makes 
 one happy and three jealous. And then, is it not very sweet 
 to feel one's self beloved by three fine young men ? And if 
 you should come some day and say to me, caressingly — 
 ■ Dame Martha, advise me — which of these pretty wooers most 
 deserves my heart and hand ? ' do you know, dear Rosa, what 
 answer I would make you ? I should answer — ■ Choose the 
 one you prefer ;' there you will find happiness. For the rest, 
 if I had to discuss their merits, Eeinhold pleases me, Frede- 
 rick also, Conrad equally ; and in one or the other of the 
 three, nevertheless, I find defects. When I see those three 
 fine journeymen work so heartily, from morning till night, I 
 think, in spite of myself, of my poor departed Valentine, and 
 I say that if he was not so skilful at his trade, he devoted 
 himself to it much more seriously. You would never have 
 seen him occupy himself with any thing except shoving his 
 plane, or forming good staves ; whilst the three new journey- 
 man of master Martin, have the appearance to me of people 
 who have imposed upon themselves a voluntary task, and who 
 are patiently hatching a project that I do not yet guess. For 
 the rest, my child, if you believe me, Frederick should be 
 your chosen one. I believe him generous and frank as ster- 
 ling gold ; and then it seems to me that he is simpler, and 
 that his language, his manners, his appearance, are more like 
 those of our class of people. And then I like to follow in 
 him the slow and silent progress of his timid love ; he has the 
 candor and timidity of a child. He dares hardly raise his 
 glance to meet yours. As soon as you speak, he blushes. 
 
52 hopfmann's strange stories. 
 
 Those qualities, my dear, are better than other more brilliant 
 ones; and this is why I feel a sympathy for this young 
 man." 
 
 Whilst listening to dame Martha speaking thus, Rosa could 
 not restrain the two big tears that had for some moments stood 
 in her eyes. She arose, and turning her back to Martha, 
 went and leaned her elbows on the window sill. " I certainly 
 like Frederick," said she, pouting ; " but does Reinhold seem 
 to you so little worthy of being noticed ? ' ' 
 
 44 Ah, truly," exclaimed dame Martha, " I must confess 
 that he is the handsomest of the three. I have never seen 
 such sparkling eyes as he has when he looks at you ; but 
 there is in his whole person something strange and affected, 
 that causes me an indescribable uneasiness. I say to myself 
 that such a workman does too much honor to the workshop of 
 master Martin. When he speaks, one would believe that he 
 heard soft music, and every thing that he says carries you out 
 of real life ; but if one reflects on what he has said, one is 
 forced to confess immediately that one has understood nothing 
 of it. For my part, I consider him, in spite of myself, a 
 being of a nature entirely different from ours, and made to 
 exist in another state of life. As for the third, the savage 
 Conrad is a mixture of pretension and pride, which disagrees 
 singularly with the leather apron of a simple workman. Each 
 one of his gestures is as imperious as if he had the right to 
 command here ; and, in fact, master Martin, since he has been 
 here, has not been able to help yielding to his ascendancy, 
 and to bend before his iron will. However, in spite of this 
 inflexible character, there is not a better or more honest man 
 than Conrad ; and I will go so far as to say, that I should 
 prefer this rudeness and this wildness, to the exquisite ele- 
 gance of the manners of Reinhold. That fellow must have 
 been a soldier, for he knows too well how to handle arms 
 and practise various difficult exercises, to have been until now 
 an obscure workman. But how is this, dear Rosa ; you are 
 quite absent, and a hundred leagues off from what I am telling 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 53 
 
 you. Come, then, once more I ask you, which of these three 
 gallants would you prefer for a husband ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't ask me that," answered the young girl. " All 
 that I can tell you, is, that I do not judge of Reinhold as you 
 do." 
 
 At these words dame Martha arose, and making a friendly 
 sign to Rosa with her hand — " All is said," continued she. 
 " Thus it is Reinhold who will be the husband ; that changes 
 all my ideas." 
 
 " But I beg of you," cried Rosa, following her to the door, 
 " I supplicate you to neither believe nor suppose; for who 
 can know what the future will be ? Let us leave the care of it 
 to Providence." 
 
 For several days, quite a new activity animated the work- 
 shop of master Martin. To fill all the orders that came in, it 
 had been necessary to enlist apprentices and journeymen, and 
 from sunrise until sunset, the noise of the mallets made a 
 stunning bustle. Reinhold had been entrusted with the 
 calculation of the guage of the great tun ordered by my lord 
 the prince, bishop of Bamberg. After this labor of reflection 
 and intelligence, Frederick and Conrad had lent him the aid 
 of their hands ; and the work, thanks to their zeal, had ar- 
 rived at so great a degree of perfection, that master Martin 
 was beside himself with joy. The three journeymen occupied 
 themselves, under his superintendence, with the hooping of it ; 
 the mallets arose and fell in measure. Old Valentine, the 
 grandfather of the little orphans, shaped the staves, and the 
 good dame Martha, seated behind Conrad, gave a portion of 
 her time to the family work, and a portion to watching her 
 babes. 
 
 The work was so noisy, that they did not hear old Johannes 
 Holzschuer enter. Master Martin, who first perceived him, 
 went to meet him, and asked him what he desired. 
 
 " Two things," answered Holzschuer; " first, I wished to 
 see my old pupil, Frederick, again, whom I see working 
 there so bravely. Afterwards, I came to beg of you, dear 
 
54 Hoffmann's stuance stories. 
 
 master Martin, to construct for my cellar, one of the largest 
 size tuns. But I see that you are just finishing one which 
 would exactly suit me ; tell me your price for it." 
 
 Reinhold, who was about going to work again, after a few 
 minutes' repose, heard the words of Mr. Holzschuer, and 
 immediately answered for master Martin — " Do not think of 
 it, my dear sir ; this tun that we are finishing is ordered and 
 bought by the respectable prince, bishop of Bamberg." 
 
 " In truth, I cannot sell it to you," added master Martin ; 
 " but, really, from the choice wood and the finish of this work, 
 you ought to have guessed that such a masterpiece could only 
 descend into a prince's cellar. Thus, as my companion Rein- 
 hold has said, think no more of this tun. When the vintage 
 is over, I promise to make you a plainer one, which will 
 answer your purpose just as well." 
 
 The old man Holzschuer, piqued by the manners of master 
 Martin, immediately retorted, that his silver was as good as 
 the gold of the prince, bishop of Bamberg, and that he could 
 furnish himself elsewhere, and even to better advantage, with 
 as well made tuns as his were. 
 
 Master Martin could hardly restrain his anger. Forced to 
 remain silent in the presence of Mr. Holzschuer, who had 
 great influence all over the city, he concealed his spite, and 
 looked about him for an object on which to give it vent, when 
 Conrad, who paid very little attention to the conversation, 
 commenced hammering again with all his force, to drive the 
 hoops down, for the purpose of binding the staves more firmly 
 together. The master cooper, turning towards him, and 
 stamping his foot- — ''Stupid animal!" exclaimed he ; " are 
 you mad ? Do you not see that you are shattering the finest 
 tun that has ever been made in the Nuremberg workshops ? ' ' 
 
 " Ho ! ho I " said Conrad, " my little master is angry ; 
 and why should I not shatter this famous tun, if it pleased 
 me ? " And he commenced striking again more forcibly, until 
 the principal hoop having been broken by a false blow, the 
 whole machine was racked. 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 55 
 
 " Dog ! " howled master Martin, foaming with rage ; and 
 snatching from old Valentine's hands a stave that he was 
 scraping, he struck Conrad a rude blow on the shoulders with 
 it. The journeyman was nearly stunned for a moment, his 
 eyes flashing, as he gritted his teeth. " Struck ! " exclaimed 
 he, hoarsely ; and, siezing the biggest adz in the workshop, 
 he threw it with all his force at master Martin, whom Frede- 
 rick had only time to push aside. The edge of the tool, (the 
 stock of which would have split open the old man's head,) 
 only wounded him in the arm, from which blood flowed. He 
 lost his equilibrium, and fell over an apprentice's bench. 
 
 They all threw themselves before Conrad, whose fury was 
 exasperated by the evil which he had done. His Strength, 
 redoubled by anger, put aside all resistance, and, raising the 
 bloody adz, he was about to strike a second blow, when Rosa, 
 who had heard the noise, came running in, pale as death. 
 Conrad was disarmed by her appearance ; and, throwing away 
 his murderous weapon, he folded his arms on his breast, and 
 remained for a moment as immoveable as a statue. He then 
 by an inward struggle returned to consciousness, and utterino" 
 a cry of grief, he fled. 
 
 No one pursued him. The witnesses of this scene raised 
 master Martin, who was covered with blood. It was then 
 discovered that the injury was only a flesh wound. The old 
 jaaan Holzschuer, who had taken refuge behind a pile of boards, 
 then ventured to make his appearance. He commenced a 
 scorching tirade against trades that place in the hands of iono- 
 rant people such murderous weapons, and begged Frederick 
 to quit this workshop, and come back to his first trade, the 
 v art of moulding and carving metals. 
 
 As for master Martin, when he came to himself, and found 
 that he was more frightened than hurt, he had only words to 
 regret the damage caused to the tun for the prince, bishop of 
 Bamberg. 
 
 After this event, they had master Martin and Mr. Holz- 
 schuer carried back in a sedan chair. Frederick and Reinhold 
 
56 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 came back to the city together on foot. On the way, as night 
 was coming on, they heard groans on passing near a hedge, 
 from a voice that they recognized. Suddenly a tall figure 
 arose, which made them start back in surprise. It was Con- 
 rad, whom they thus found again, who was in despair for his 
 rash act, and the irreparable results which it had created for 
 the future. ".Farewell, my friends," said he to them— 
 " Farewell ! we shall never see each other more ! Only say 
 to Rosa, that I love her, and conjure her not to curse my 
 remembrance. Say to her, that as long as I live, her bouquet 
 shall never quit the place in which I have put it on my heart. 
 Farewell, farewell, my good comrades V* 
 
 He then disappeared across the fields. 
 
 Reinhold said to his friend — " This poor Conrad is not an 
 evil-doer ; but there is in that young man something strange 
 and mysterious. His actions are not after the ordinary rules 
 of morality. Perhaps we shall know sometime the secret 
 which he has hidden from us." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Loneliness and sadness reigned after that day in the work- 
 shop of master Martin. Reinhold, disgusted with labor, re- 
 mained whole hours shut up in his chamber. Martin, whf 
 carried his wounded arm in a sling, opened his mouth only to 
 curse the wicked stranger. Rosa, dame Martha herself, and 
 her little ones, no longer dared to go to the place that had 
 witnessed this bloody scene ; and as is heard sometimes, at 
 the approach of winter, the blows of the solitary woodman, 
 breaking the silence of the forest, so Frederick finished slowly 
 and alone the bishop of Bamberg's tun, and his mallet alone 
 resounded the livelong day. 
 
 By degrees discouragement and melancholy took possession 
 of his soul. Rosa no longer appeared at the workshop, since 
 Reinhold, under pretence of illness, remained in his room. 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 57 
 
 Frederick concluded from this that the young girl loved his 
 friend. He had already well remarked that she reserved for 
 Keinhold her most gracious smiles and her sweetest words. 
 But this time he could no longer doubt her sentiments. 
 
 The following Sunday, instead of accepting the invitation 
 of master Martin, who, almost cured of his wound, wished to 
 go with Rosa to walk out of the city, he went away alone, a 
 prey to all the anguish of his thoughts, towards the hill where 
 he had seen Reinhold for the first time. Arrived there, he 
 threw himself on the grass, and reflected on the deceptions of 
 his life, from which each hope was effaced, like a star falling 
 from the sky. He wept over the flowers hidden in the moss, 
 and the flowers bowed their heads under the dew of his tears, 
 as if they had understood his sorrow. Then, without his being- 
 able to explain to himself how it was, his sighs, that were 
 carried away by the breeze, gradually became articulated in 
 words ; then these words were softly modulated, and he sang 
 his sadness as he would have sung his joy. 
 
 Where art thou gone, Star of Hope ? 
 
 Alas, thou art forever gone from me ! 
 Thy brilliant beams no longer ope. 
 
 Save to gladden the eyes that called to thee. 
 
 Arise, ye stormy nights, arise ! 
 
 Ye are less terrible than these, 
 That tear my heart from its surprise, 
 
 And cover it with mourrjful leaves. ' 
 
 My eyes are drowned in briny tears, 
 My poor heart sadly moans and bleeds, 
 
 Whilst the balmy forest ever hears 
 The murmurs softly, sweetly plead. 
 
 Golden clouds that veil the heavens, 
 
 Why do ye glisten with joyous beam ? 
 Alas, ye cast your shades at even 
 
 Upon sad Lethe's joyless stream. 
 
 The tomb it is my solitary hope, 
 
 Its peaceful slumber I perchance may meet, 
 
 When this sad, lonely life with death shall cope, 
 And the eternal shores my heart shall greet. 
 
58 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Frederick's voice became animated as he saKg. His op- 
 pressed heart felt some relief, and his tears flowed with less 
 bitterness. The evening breeze rustling among the leaves of 
 the young lindens, the mysterious echoes which inhabit the 
 woods, brought to his ear accents as sweet as animated words ; 
 and the horizon, fringed with purple and gold, seemed to 
 invite him towards pleasant paths in the future. 
 
 Frederick, a little consoled, arose and descended the flowery 
 hill in the direction of the village. He recalled in thought 
 the evening when he and Reinhold followed the same road ; 
 he recalled his promises of eternal friendship. But when he 
 thought over the story that Reinhold had related to him of the 
 two Italian painters, his eyes were opened as if by enchant- 
 ment. The past became clear to him like a painful certainty. 
 He persuaded himself that Reinhold had formerly loved Rosa ; 
 that this love had brought him back to Nuremberg, to master 
 Martin's house ; and the narration of the friendly rivalry of 
 the two painters, for the golden laurel, appeared to him an 
 emblem of the love rivalry of which Rosa was to be the prize, 
 All of Reinhold' s words came back to his remembrance, and 
 took an entirely different sense from what he had ever attached 
 to them. " Between two friends," exclaimed he, " there can 
 exist neither hate nor envy. It is to thee, then, friend of my 
 heart — to thee, even, that I will go to ask if the time is al- 
 ready come for jne to renounce all hope." 
 
 This reverie lasted Frederick until he reached the door of 
 Reinhold' s apartment. The rising sun lighted with its joyous 
 rays the little chamber. A profound silence reigned there. 
 The young man pushed the door, which was not closed, and 
 entered softly ; but hardly had he taken a step, than he re- 
 mained fixed to the floor, as immoveable as a statue. Rosa, 
 in all the brilliancy of her charms, appeared to him admirably 
 painted, the size of life. Near the easel, the painter's maul- 
 stick and pallet, all prepared, announced a recent labor. 
 
 " Rosa ! Rosa ! oh heaven ! " sighed Frederick. 
 
 At this moment Reinhold touched him on the shoulder, and 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 59 
 
 said to him, softly, with a happy smile on his face — " "What 
 do you think of this picture ? ' ' 
 
 " Oh ! thou art a superior man; thou art a great artist," 
 answered Frederick, embracing Reinhold. " Now all is clear 
 to me ; thou hast well deserved the prize that I had the mad- 
 ness to envy thee. And yet, dear friend, I also had a fine 
 artist's project. I had dreamed that it would be nice to cast 
 a silver statuette in the divine likeness of Rosa ; but I feel 
 that it was the dream of foolish pride. It is thou alone who 
 art happy ; thou alone who hast created the masterpiece. 
 Look, how her smile is animated with heavenly life ! and what 
 an angelic dance ! Ah ! we have both wrestled for the same 
 victory ; but to thee, Reinhold — to thee, the triumph and the 
 love ! For me, to quit this house, this country ! I feel that 
 I can never see Rosa again ; it would be beyond my strength. 
 Pardon me, dear friend — pardon me, for this very day I am 
 going to re-commence my sad pilgrimage through the world, 
 and I shall carry nothing away with me except my love and 
 my misery ! ' ' 
 
 With these words Frederick was about to depart, when 
 Reinhold stopped him. " Thou shalt not leave us," said he, 
 with affectionate entreaty ; "for all may turn otherwise than 
 thou thmkest here, and I will no longer hide from thee the 
 secret of my life. Thou hast already seen that I was not born 
 to follow the trade of a cooper, and the sight of this picture 
 may prove to thee that I am not in the last rank among paint- 
 ers. In my tenderest youth, I travelled through Italy to 
 study the masterpieces of the great masters. My talents, 
 developed by a natural inclination, made rapid progress. Soon 
 fortune came to me, as well as glory ; and the duke of Flo- 
 rence called me to his court. I was ignorant at that time of 
 all that German art has produced, and I spoke, without 
 knowledge of the cause, of the defects, of the coldness, of the 
 dryness of your Durer and your Cranach, when one day a 
 picture seller showed me a little canvass of old Albert. It 
 was a portrait of the Virgin, the sublime and the finished 
 
60 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 execution of which transported me with enthusiasm. I imme- 
 diately understood that there was something better than the 
 mannerly grace of the Italian style ; and I soon resolved to 
 visit the studios of the celebrated German painters, to initiate 
 myself into the secrets of their compositions. On arriving at 
 Nuremberg, the first object that struck my sight was Rosa ; 
 and I thought that I saw the beautiful Madonna of Albert 
 Diirer. An immense love burst out in my soul like a confla- 
 gration. The rest of the world was effaced from my thoughts, 
 and Art, which until then had so exclusively occupied me, 
 seemed to have no other mission for me than to produce num- 
 berless sketches of the features of the divine object of my 
 passion. I sought means to introduce myself into master 
 Martin's house ; but nothing was more difficult. The ordi- 
 nary tricks employed by lovers became impracticable. I was 
 then about to announce myself openly to Tobias Martin, and 
 ask of him the hand of his daughter, when, by chance, I 
 learned that this worthy man had formally decided that he 
 would accept no other for son-in-law than the most skilful 
 cooper in the country. Far from becoming discouraged at 
 this obstacle, I set off for Strasburg, where I secretly learned 
 this laborious trade, leaving to providence the care of reward- 
 ing my efforts. Thou knowest the rest ; and I have only one 
 thing more to reveal to thee, which is, that quite recently 
 master Martin, in a fit of good humor, predicted that I should 
 become, under his auspices, a famous cooper, and that it 
 would please him to see me become, some day, the husband 
 of his pretty daughter, who, as he said, was not too indifferent 
 to me." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I feel it well, it is thou that she loves," inter- 
 rupted Frederick. " I am in her eyes nothing but a miserable 
 workman ; but in thee she has discovered the artist." 
 
 "Stop there!" said Reinhold; "thou art extravagant, 
 and thou forgettest, dear brother, that the little Rosa has not 
 decided. I well know that until now she has shown herself 
 full of kindness and amenity towards me, but this is far from 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 61 
 
 love. Promise me, dear brother, to remain three days longer 
 here, in perfect quiet. I long since neglected our hogsheads, 
 but it was, as thou seest, since I busied myself about this 
 picture ; all which distracted my attention from it seemed 
 excessively tiresome ; and the longer I go on, the less I feel 
 capable of continuing our trade of stupid workmen. I have 
 ;lecided to throw the adz and mallet to the devil. In three 
 days I will sincerely reveal to thee the feelings of Eosa. If 
 she loves me, thou shalt go. and thou wilt soon see that time 
 cures all sorrows, even those which break the heart." 
 
 Frederick promised that he would wait 
 
 In three days from that time, towards night, Frederick, 
 after having finished his work, came slowly back to the city. 
 He thought with uneasiness of the rather severe admonitions 
 he had received from master Martin, for some of his awkward- 
 ness. He had also noticed that the master seemed preoccu- 
 pied with a secret sadness, and had heard such words escape 
 his lips as " Cowardly intrigue," " Forgotten kindness," &c. 
 Master Martin had not thought proper to explain himself, and 
 Frederick knew not what to think of it, when he met, at the 
 gates of Nuremberg, a man on horseback — it was Reinhold. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, " you have come just in time. I 
 have many things to tell thee." And dismounting, Reinhold 
 passed the bridle around his arm, and pressing his friend's 
 hand, they both walked on. Frederick had noticed from the 
 firsfc that Reinhold had replaced the costume that he wore 
 when they first met. The horse, equipped for the road, car- 
 ried a portmanteau on his back. 
 
 "Be happy, my friend," said Reinhold, in a tone which 
 had suddenly become rude and bitter. "Be happy! and 
 handle at thy ease, henceforth without a rival, the hammer 
 and the plane. I abandon, at this moment, the kingdom of 
 hogsheads. I have just taken leave of the beautiful Rosa and 
 the respectable master Martin." 
 
 " How?" exclaimed Frederick, trembling as if a thunder- 
 clap had burst over his head ; " thou art going, when master 
 6 
 
62 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 Martin accepts thee for son-in-law, and when Rosa loves 
 thee?" 
 
 " There again," said Reinhold, "is a phantasmagoria of 
 thy jealous brain. I know, my dear brother, that Rosa would 
 have accepted me for a husband, in obedience to or through 
 fear of her father ; but hearts are not taken by force, and her 
 care is not for me. But, really, had it not been for that, I 
 should truly have become a cooper, and like any other, scrape, 
 hoop and guage during six days, and on the seventh display 
 my dignity with the graces of madame Reinhold, in the church 
 of Saint Catherine or Saint Sebald, and then in the evening: 
 walk virtuously in the flowery meadows." 
 
 " Oh, do not mock," said Frederick, " these simple and 
 peaceful manners. Happiness is hidden in common places." 
 
 " Thou art more than right," continued Reinhold, "but let 
 me go on. I found the opportunity to tell Rosa that I loved 
 her, and that her father would consent to our union. At 
 these words I saw the tears start to her eyes, her hand trem- 
 bled in mine, and she answered me, turning her head aside — 
 ' Reinhold, I shall obey the orders of my father.' I took 
 very good care not to press the matter further. A sudden 
 light found its way to my soul, and I very fortunately dis- 
 covered that my love for the cooper's daughter was nothing 
 but the dream of an enthusiast. It was not Rosa that I loved, 
 but it was an ideal being, of which she had shown me a copy, 
 that I incessantly retraced with all the passion of an artist. I 
 understood that I was in love with a portrait, with a dream, 
 with a fantastic beauty ; and I caught a glimpse, with a 
 shudder of disgust, at the poor future that awaited me when 
 I should be installed in the dignity of master workman, with 
 a family. What I loved in the little Rosa, was a heavenly 
 image, which clothed itself in my heart with divine brilliancy, 
 and which my art will cause to live in the creations that I 
 shall spread around me. The destiny of the artist is to go 
 incessantly towards the future, without stopping to pluck 
 flowers by the way. How could I have renounced the tri- 
 
THE COOPER OP NUREMBERG. 63 
 
 umphs of art, and trampled under foot the crowns that it 
 promises? I salute thee from afar, land of arts and antique 
 genius ! Rome, I shall soon see thee again ! " 
 
 The two friends arrived thus at a place where the road was 
 forked. Reinhold turned to the left. " Farewell ! " said he 
 to Frederick, embracing him — " Farewell, my friend; let us 
 separate ; who knows if we shall ever meet again ! " 
 
 He then sprang to his saddle, and spurred on without 
 looking behind him. 
 
 Frederick remained long in the place, his eyes fixed on the 
 lonesome road. He then returned to the house, his heart 
 oppressed with grief. Dark forebodings agitated his soul. 
 He fancied that separation resembles death ! 
 
 X. 
 
 At some time from that, master Martin, sad and thoughtful, 
 finished the bishop of Bamberg's tun. Frederick, who was 
 working by his side, said not a word ! The departure of 
 Reinhold had deprived him of all joy. Finally, master Mar- 
 tin, throwing his mallet down, folded his arms angrily, and 
 muttered between his teeth ! — " There is Reinhold gone 
 after Conrad. He was such a painter as is seldom seen, but 
 he thought to make me a dupe ! How could one imagine 
 such rascality under such distinguished traits, with manners 
 so frank, so -civil ! At last, lie is unmasked ; and Frederick 
 at least, will remain faithful to me, for he is a clever and sim- 
 ple workman. And who knows what might happen ? If thou 
 shouidst become, my dear boy, a skilful master, and should 
 please my little Rosa. — I shall see, I shall see." — And say- 
 ing this, master Martin picked up his mallet, and returned to 
 his labor. Frederick whilst listening to him had felt a warm 
 emotion thrill through his whole being ; but at the same time 
 an indefinable discouragement deprived him of hope. Rosa 
 appeared in the workshop, where she had not put her foot 
 
64 iioffmaxx's stranoe stories. 
 
 for many days ; but her face bore the impress of an ill-dis- 
 guised sadness ; it could he seen that she had been weeping. 
 "The departure of Reinhold is the cause of these tears; she 
 loves him then!" said Frederick to himself. This thought, 
 nearly broke his heart, and he dared not raise his eyes to- 
 wards her. 
 
 Meanwhile the great tun was finished. Master Martin, 
 before his work, felt his former gaiety return. "Yes, my 
 boy," said he to Frederick, striking him familiarly on 
 the shoulder, ' ' if thou canst succeed in doing a piece of 
 work like this, and if thou pleasest Eosa, thou shalt be my 
 son-in-law ; this will not prevent you from cultivating the art 
 of singing, and thus you will gain two excellent reputations." 
 
 As work came from every quarter to his work-shop, master 
 Martin was obliged to engage two new journeymen, very skil- 
 ful men at their trade, but free rivers, drinkers and royster- 
 ers. The work-shop soon resounded with jokes or such gross 
 songs that Eosa was forced to abstain from going there, and 
 Frederick was completely isolated. 
 
 When at times Frederick met his beloved, he sighed and 
 fixed a glance upon her that seemed to say : 
 
 ' ' My cherished Eosa. you are no longer good and charming 
 to me, as at the time when Reinhold was here ! " To which 
 the young girl, lowering her eyes, answered by her modest 
 embarrassment: " Master Frederick, have you any thing to 
 say to me?" But in these very rare instances, the poor 
 young man remained speechless, and as if petrified : and 
 Eosa disappeared like the soft flashes of lightning during the 
 warm summer evenings, which the eye admires without being 
 able to seize upon them. 
 
 Master Martin did not cease to insist that Frederick should 
 set himself about preparing his master-workman's master-piece. 
 He had himself selected a sufficient quantity of oak, boards 
 without veins or knots, and which had already undergone five 
 good years' seasoning, sheltered both from dampness and dry- 
 ness. No one was to assist Frederick, except the old man 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 65 
 
 Valentine. The poor boy, already disgusted with the trade by 
 his forced intimacy with his new workshop companions, had 
 no longer spirit to work ; he felt a want of confidence before 
 an enterprise whose want of snccess wonld canse all his 
 dreams of happiness to vanish. A vague instinct, that he 
 could not define, repeated to him unceasingly that he would 
 fail under the weight of his task, and he became suddenly 
 ashamed at having condemned himself to a manual labor 
 which was so repugnant to his vocation of artist. The dis- 
 grace of Reinhold was always present to his memory. From 
 time to time, to withdraw himself from the painful besetting 
 of his fears, he feigned indisposition to force himself from the 
 duty of going to the work-shop, and he hurried away to pass 
 whole hours at Saint Sebald's church, examining the Peter 
 Fischer's master-piece of carving, and exclaiming with in- 
 spired exaltation : — " Oh, Heavenly Father ! to imagine such 
 things and have the power in one's self to execute them, is it 
 not the greatest happiness on earth? " and when, on recover- 
 ing from these ecstacies, the reality of the staves and hoops of 
 master Martin's workshop stared him in the face, when he 
 thought that Rosa would be the price of a miserable tun fabri- 
 cated with more or less art, he felt despair consuming his 
 strength, and his brain wandering. At night, Reinhold ap- 
 peared in his dreams, and spread out before him inimitable 
 models whose realization would have immortalized the founder. 
 And, in these marvellous designs, the figure of Rosa was 
 always the principal subject, framed in the most capricious 
 mixture of foliage and flowers. All this seemed to become 
 animated, grow green and flourish • the metal, like a brilliant 
 mirror, reflected the image of the adored young girl ; Frede- 
 rick extended his aims towards her, calling her by the sweet- 
 est names ; but when he thought to reach her, the fantastic 
 picture evaporated like a fugitive haze. On awaking, the 
 poor artist detested a little more his sad future as cooper. 
 An idea came into his head that he would go and confide his 
 
 grief to his old master Johannes Holzschuer. Charmed tq 
 6* 
 
G(> Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 see his favorite scholar again, he allowed Frederick to come 
 to his house and carve a little work, for the execution of 
 which he had gradually and for a long time gathered the ne- 
 cessary gold and silver. Frederick took hold of this work 
 with such ardor that he almost entirely neglected his labor 
 in the work-shop of master Martin, and many months elapsed 
 without his master-work being talked of, which was to rival the 
 Bamberg tun. But, one fine day, master Martin pressed 
 him so earnestly, that it was necessary, willing, or unwilling, 
 to take up again the adz and mallet. When the work was 
 commenced, the master came to examine the progress ; but 
 at the sight of the boards already spread out, he became vio- 
 lently angry and exclaimed — " What is all that ? What paltry- 
 work art thou making, my poor Frederick ? A three days' 
 apprentice would not cut up wood in that manner ! Frederick, 
 what demon has guided thy hand to spoil the best oak-wood 
 that I have seen for a long time ? Is that thy masterpiece ? " 
 
 Frederick could no longer hold out against the unmeasured 
 reproaches of master Martin, and throwing his tools to the 
 other end of the workshop : — " Well ! master,'' exclaimed 
 he, "lam done ! no, should it cost me my life, should I fall 
 into the depths of misery, no, I will work no more ! I re- 
 nounce this trade which I hate, and for which I was not 
 formed. For I too am an artist ! I too love your daughter 
 passionately, deliriously ; it was my love that tempted me to 
 this odious trial. I now see that all happiness, all hope is 
 lost for me ! I shall die, but I will die an artist, and I will 
 leave behind me some token of remembrance ! And now I 
 return to my first and worthy master, Johannes Holzschuer, 
 whom I had abandoned I " 
 
 Master Martin's eyes Hashed fire when he heard Frederick 
 jEBjply so spiritedly. "And thou also ? " exclaimed he ; " thou 
 also hast deceived me ! So the cooper's trade is odious to 
 -to thee J So much the better, so much the better, good for 
 ^nothing:! out from here ! out from here." And without giving 
 Frederick t^me to recover himself, he took him by the shoulders 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 67 
 
 and pushed him out, to the great glorification of the journey- 
 men and apprentices, who had witnessed this scene. The old 
 man Valentine, his hands clasped and his brow T clouded, said 
 in a low voice : — * ' I thought that there was something bet- 
 ter in that journeyman than in a common workman." Dame 
 Martha, who liked Frederick, and her little ones whom he 
 often regaled with delicacies, were inconsolable at his de- 
 parture. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Master Martin's workshop became sadder than ever. The 
 new journeymen gave him nothing but care. Forced to watch 
 over the least details, he passed his days in burdensome 
 fatigue, and at night, tormented by wakefulness, he repeated 
 incessantly : "Ah ! Heinhold, ah ! Frederick, why did you thus 
 deceive me ? Why were you not simply honest and laborious 
 workmen?" The poor man visibly failed, and was many times 
 on the point of giving up his calling, and dying of langour. 
 He was seated one evening before the door of his house, pre- 
 occupied with painful reveries, when he saw coining towards 
 him Jacobus Paumgartner, accompanied by master Johannes 
 Holzschuer ; he thought truly that they were going to speak 
 to him about Frederick. In effect, Paumgartner turned the 
 conversation towards this subject, and Holzschuer exerted 
 himself in eulogizing the young artist ; and both rivalled 
 each other in praising the excellent qualities of Frederick, 
 and in predicting the future that was reserved for his talents, 
 supplicated master Martin to give up his prejudices in his 
 favor, and not to renounce the idea of granting the hand of 
 his daughter to this young man, who after all would make 
 her happy, and would do credit some day to his father-in-law. 
 Master Martin allowed them to have their say : then taking 
 off his fur cap slowdy, he very calmly answered them : — 
 " My dear gentlemen, you take so pressing an interest in 
 what relates to this youth, that I would fain pardon him some- 
 
68 HOFFMANN'S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 thing at your solicitation. But, for the rest, I will not relin- 
 quish my resolution; and, as to the mfcrriage above all, therp 
 will never be any more relations between him and my daughter. ' ' 
 
 As he was saying this, dwelling on each syllable, Rosa 
 came into the room, pale and trembling, and placed upon the 
 table a flagon of the famous Hochheim wine and three glasses,, 
 — " It must be, then," said Holzschuer, " that I allow poor 
 Frederick to depart, who has resolved, in his grief, to ex- 
 patriate himself? And yet, look, dear master, look at this 
 work in carving that he has executed at my house, under my 
 supervision, and say, if you can, that there was not in this 
 young man material for a great artist. It is a farewell re- 
 membrance that he asks you to allow your daughter to accept. 
 Only look at this pretty work ! " And master Holzschuer 
 drew from his pocket a silver goblet, delicately wrought ; and 
 master Martin who prided himself upon his good taste, exam- 
 ined it very carefully. It was, indeed, a little masterpiece. 
 Around it ran a wreath of vines and roses, and from each 
 blown rose peeped the figure of a little angel, carved with 
 perfect grace. The bottom on the inside, lined with gold, 
 was ornamented with similar little figures ; and when you 
 poured into the goblet a flood of golden wine, these little 
 smiling angels seemed to move as if to rise to the surface. — 
 " I confess that this is an excellent piece of workmanship, ' ' 
 said master Martin, " and I will keep this cup if Frederick 
 will accept twice the value of it in good new ducats." 
 
 Saying this, master Martin filled the goblet and emptied 
 it at a draught. At this moment the door was softly opened, 
 and Frederick, disfigured by grief and the tears that he had 
 shed, appeared and remained immovable at the entrance of 
 the room, in the attitude of a criminal who is about to hear 
 his condemnation. Rosa, who perceived him first, uttered an 
 exclamation, and fell lifeless into his arms. 
 
 Master Martin dropped the goblet, and looking at Frederick 
 fixedly, as if he had seen a spectre, he arose, and said with 
 emotion — " Rosa, Rosa, dost thou then love this Frederick?" 
 
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG. 69 
 
 " More than my life ! " said the poor girl in a broken voice. 
 
 " Well, then, my boy, I pardon thee ; embrace thy be- 
 trothed; yes, yes, thy betrothed." 
 
 Paumgartner and the old man Holzschuer looked at each 
 other in astonishment, and master Martin continued aloud, 
 but speaking to himself : 
 
 " Good Heaven ! it is thus, then, that this prophecy of the 
 grandmother is to be accomplished ! Is this not, in effect, the 
 pretty house, the little angels with enamelled wings? Besides, 
 the goblet is nothing but an infinitely little tun, and truly 
 everything is for the best, for I can thus consent without 
 changing my mind ; I ought to have thought of that sooner/' 
 
 Frederick, overcome with joy, had hardly strength to press 
 the prettty Rosa more closely to his heart. — " Oh, my dear 
 master," exclaimed he, when he had recovered himself a little, 
 " what ! can it be true that you consent to accept me as son- 
 in-law, and allow me to practise my art ? " 
 
 *' Yes, yes," replied master Martin : " thou has fulfilled 
 the prediction of the old grandmother, thy trial-work no 
 longer remains to be done." 
 
 "No, dear master," replied Frederick, "do not let me 
 give it up yet ; I will, on the contrary, finish my mammoth 
 tun ; I will leave it to you as a mark of my respect for the 
 profession you have rendered illustrious, and I will afterwards 
 return to my crucibles." 
 
 " Honor to thee for that good thought," said master Mar- 
 tin, rising with enthusiasm; "finish, then, thy masterpiece. 
 The day thou shalt give the last blow of the mallet, shall be 
 thy wedding day." 
 
 Frederick went to work with great zeal, and the immense 
 tun that grew up under his hands was the admiration of all 
 the leading coopers. Master Martin was at the height of joy. 
 The wedding day was fixed, and- the trial-work, filled with 
 generous wine and ornamented with flowery garlands, was 
 placed at the entrance of the house. The master coopers with 
 their families, conducted by the worthy counsellor Jacobus 
 
70 Hoffmann's strange storii-s. 
 
 Paumgartner, and the master of jewellers, united in a bril- 
 liant procession to go to the church of Saint Sebald. At the 
 moment of setting out, the noise of horses and the sound of 
 music was heard before master Martin's hou.se : and he, run- 
 ning to the balcony, recognized lord Heinrich Spangenberg, 
 having by his side a young and brilliant cavalier, wearing a 
 sword and hat ornamented with floating plumes and precious 
 stones. Near the young man rode a marvellously beautiful 
 lady, and behind these three personages pranced a numerous 
 retinue of servants in costumes of all colors. 
 
 The music having stopped, the old man Spangenberg cried 
 out to master Martin, raising his head : — " Ho, ho, master 
 Martin, it is neither for your cellar nor your ducats that I 
 come here ; I come on account of the marriage of your pretty 
 daughter. Will you receive me, dear master ? " 
 
 Master Martin, a little confused by the recollection of these 
 words, went down as fast as his legs would allow him, to re- 
 ceive with all kinds of salutations, his old and noble customer. 
 The beautiful lady and the cavalier also dismounted and entered 
 the house. But hardly had the worthy cooper looked at the 
 young cavalier than he started back in surprise.-^ " Good 
 heaven ! " exclaimed he, clasping his hands, ' - this is Conrad. ' ' 
 
 "Truly, yes," said the young man, smilingly; "I am 
 your former journeyman. Pardon me, dear master, a certain 
 wound which I have kept in remembrance. I could very 
 well have killed you that day, for you had treated me very 
 rudely ! But all is for the best, let us think no more of it. ?1 
 
 Master Martin assured liim that he was very thankful that 
 the cursed adz had only slightly cut him ; he then begged 
 his guests to enter the principal room, where the bride and 
 bridegroom and the friends of the family had united to wit- 
 ness the ceremony. The appearance of the beautiful lady 
 was saluted by a very flattering murmur ; everybody remarked 
 that her beauty resembled in a surprising degree the ravishing 
 features of the young bride ; they might have been taken for 
 twin sisters, 
 
THE COUPEE OJ? NUREMBERG. 71 
 
 Conrad gallantly approached towards the cooper's daughter, 
 and said to her with exquisite grace : — " Permit, my beauti- 
 ful young lady, Conrad to partake of your felicity to-day ; 
 deign to tell him that you forget his former outbursts, and 
 that you pardon him as your father has done." 
 
 And as Rosa stood disconcerted, and master Martin and 
 the guests were looking on in astonishment, the elder Mr. 
 Spangenberg spoke to end this embarrasment. 
 
 ''You think that you are dreaming ! " said he. "But 
 this is my son Conrad, and there is his ravishing affianced 
 wife whose name is Rosa, like master Martin's pretty 
 daughter. Remember then, dear master, the other day that, 
 talking with you over a flagon of your old wine, I asked 
 if you would refuse your daughter to everybody, even to my 
 son. I had good reasons, for speaking thus. 3Iy rash son 
 was in love with her, to such a point that it was necessary, in 
 order not to drive him to despair, that I should take upon my- 
 self the management of this affair. When I related to him, 
 to cure him, the reception which you had given me, and your 
 strange caprice in the matter of son-in-law, Conrad could think 
 of nothing better than slipping into your house as workman, 
 in order to be near Rosa, and with the design of stealing her 
 away from you some day. Luckily for you, the blow of the 
 stave on his shoulders broke the wings of his love. I con- 
 gratulated myself on it, and my son, to remain faithful in some 
 degree to his first inclination, fell in love with a noble 
 heiress, who bears like your daughter the name of Rosa, and 
 who very nearly resembles her." 
 
 The young lady then approached Rosa, threw around her 
 neck a fine pearl necklace of great value, and taking from 
 her bosom a bunch of faded flowers, — " Here," said she to 
 her, " here is the bouquet which you gave to Conrad, and 
 which he has carefully kept. Are you not angry that he has 
 given it to me ? It was, he told me, what he held most pre- 
 cious ! " A bright color mounted to the pale cheeks of the 
 cooper's daughter. 
 
72 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 "Ah, noble lady," said she in a low voice, " it was you 
 alone that this young lord ought to have loved. He knew you, 
 I am sure, before thinking of me. The resemblance in the 
 names and the likeness of features has procured for a short 
 time his attention. It was the recollection of you that he 
 sought for in me. But I am not angry with him for it." 
 
 As the procession got ready for the second time to leave the 
 house of master Martin, a fine young man, who wore with 
 rare elegance a rich Italian costume, came forward and em- 
 braced Frederick. " Reinhold ! my friend Reinhold I " ex- 
 claimed the bridegroom : and the two friends embraced each 
 other closely. Master Martin and Rosa partook of their joy. 
 
 " Did I not tell thee truly," said the artist, " that happi- 
 ness would come at the sound of the mallet ? I arrive in 
 time to share thy joy, and I bring thee my bridal gift." 
 
 Two servants then entered, and discovered, to the aston- 
 ished gaze of the guests, a magnificent canvass, on which were 
 painted master Martin, with Reinhold, Frederick and Conrad, 
 working on the prince bishop of Bamberg's tun, at the moment 
 that Rosa appeared among them. 
 
 "That is," said Frederick smilingly, "thy masterwork ; 
 mine is down below, full of wine ; but patience, I shall have 
 to make another." 
 
 " I knew all," continued Reinhold, " and I find thee more 
 fortunate than myself. Be faithful to thy art, which, better 
 than mine, can agree with a calm life and the sedentary habits 
 of a good home. Happiness, friend, is only found in com- 
 mon places." 
 
 At the nuptial feast, Frederick seated himself between the 
 two Rosas, and opposite to him master Martin placed himself 
 between Conrad and Reinhold. At the dessert, the counsel- 
 lor Jacobus Paumgartner filled the silver goblet, carved by 
 Frederick, and drank the first draught in honor of master 
 Martin and his joyous companions. Then the goblet made 
 ihe circuit of the guests, who celebrated until the morrow, 
 the good cellar of the master of the candles. 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. 
 
 I was feverish, even to delirium; the coldness of death 
 pierced my heart, and in spite of the fury of the storm, I ran 
 into the streets, bare-headed, without cloak, like one escaped 
 from a mad-house. The weather-cocks creaked on the roofs 
 like frightened owls, and the gusts of night wind succeeded 
 each other in space like the deaf sound of the eternal wheel- 
 work which marks the fall of years into the Gulf of Time, 
 It was, nevertheless, the night before the joyous holiday of 
 Christmas. Now every year the devil chooses precisely this 
 epoch to play me some trick in his own fashion. This is one 
 among a thousand. The counsellor of the peace of our town 
 is in the habit of giving to Saint Silvestre a brilliant evening 
 party, to celebrate the approach of the new year. As soon 
 as I had entered the anteroom, the counsellor perceiving, ran 
 to meet me, and stopped me. " Dear friend, you cannot 
 imagine what a delicious surprise awaits here you this even- 
 ing ! " At the same time he took me by the hand and drew 
 me into the parlor, among ladies of the most exquisite elegance, 
 seated on sofas arranged in a circle around the fire-place, 
 where a clear fire was sparkling. I perceived her adored 
 features ! It was she, she that I had not seen for several 
 years. By what miracle was she given back to me ? I re- 
 mained at the sight of her motionless and dumb. 
 
 " Well," said the counsellor, pushing me a little, — "well 
 then ! " 
 
 7 
 
74 flOTF51ANN ? S STRANGE STORIES', 
 
 I advanced mechanically. "Good God ! " exclaimed I y 
 " is it really you, Julia ? you here ? " 
 
 At these words she rose and said to me coldly- — * ' I am 
 glad to see you here ; your health appears to he extremely 
 good." 
 
 Then taking her place again, she leaned towards her neigh- 
 bor, without taking any more notice of me, and said to her 
 mincingly — " Dear Bella, shall we have a fine spectacle 
 next week? " 
 
 I was floored. The fear of ridicule finished the piteous 
 figure that I made there. Saluting the ladies, to get off as 
 soon as possible, I backed on to the counsellor, who was tak- 
 ing his cup of tea, the shock spilt the burning contents over 
 his laced ruffle and plaited wristbands. They laughed loudly 
 at my awkwardness ; nevertheless I gained confidence to 
 wrestle with fatality, for Julia alone had not smiled. Her 
 look attached itself to me with an expression which gave me 
 back a glimpse of hope. A few moments after she rose to 
 go into the next room, where an improvisatore was amusing 
 the company. The white dress of Julia brought out admira- 
 bly the charms of her waist, the brilliancy of her snowy 
 shoulders, and the elegance of contour in her whole person. 
 There was in her extreme seductions ; she resembled, by the 
 purity of her bearing, a virgin of Mieris. Before going into 
 the neighboring saloon, she turned towards me ; it seemed to 
 me then that this face, of such perfect and angelic beauty, 
 was wrinkled with a slight expression of irony. I was seized 
 with an indescribable uneasiness. Meanwhile, a few minutes 
 after, I found Julia quite near me. 
 
 " I should like," said she to me in a whisper, and in the 
 smoothest manner — ' s I should like to have you take your 
 place at the pianoforte, to play one of those tender airs that I 
 formerly loved so much." 
 
 As I went about answering her with all the enthusiasm 
 which my former remembrances gave back to me, several per- 
 sons passed between us, and we were separated. I tried for 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. To 
 
 some time all means for renewing out* tete-a-tete, without be- 
 ing able to succeed. It might have been said that Julia 
 sought, on her side, all possible excuses to avoid me. A 
 short time after, there was no one between us but the servant 
 who carried the refreshments. Julia took a finely cut-glass 
 full of delicious sherbet. She presented it to me, saying — 
 
 " Friend, do you accept it from my hand with as much 
 happiness as you would formerly have felt ? 
 
 " Oh, Julia ! Julia ! " exclaimed I, touching her alabaster 
 fingers, whose contact sent through my veins an electric shock. 
 " Oh, Julia ! " I could not say another word; a veil slid 
 over my sight, everything turned around me, I lost the sense 
 of hearing ; and when I came to my senses, I found myself, 
 with surprise, reclining on a sofa, in a perfumed boudoir, 
 Julia leaning over me, regarding me with love as formerly. 
 
 " Oh ! " said I to her, trying to draw her towards me, " I 
 have found thee again ; is it not so forever, oh my beautiful 
 angel of love and poetry ? Thy life is mine, and nothing can 
 separate us more ! " 
 
 At this moment a hideous face, mounted on long spider's 
 legs, with frog's eyes that stuck out of his forehead, suddenly 
 opened the door of the boudoir, crying in a sqeeaking voice, 
 ' ' Where the devil did my wife go to ? " 
 
 Julia, frightened, escaped from my side. 
 
 1 ' Julia married ! Julia forever lost for me?" I threw 
 myself like a madman out of this accursed house ; and this is 
 why I ran breathlessly, bare-headed, without cloak, through 
 the fury of the storm. The weather-cocks creaked on the 
 roofs like frightened owls, and the gusts of night wind that 
 whipped in the space whirlwinds of snow, seemed the voices 
 of demons who laughed at my madness and my despair. 
 
4 v) HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Rushing along from street to street like a wild horse, I 
 arrived in front of the Hunter's Tavern. A group of joyous 
 companions came out of it, with gay songs and noisy bursts 
 of laughter. Devoured by a burning thirst, I went into the 
 inn, and let myself drop, all out of breath, into a seat. 
 
 "What shall I serve you with, sir ? " said the landlord, 
 taking off his foxskin cap. 
 
 "A mug of beer and some tobacco/' I cried. 
 
 Thanks to the cherished liquid of our good Germans, I 
 found myself soon in a state of inert satisfaction, so profound 
 that the devil, who had bewitched me all that evening, judged 
 that he would be doing wisely to put off until the morrow 
 the next trick that he was preparing for me. My ball dress, 
 joined to my singular physiognomy, must have produced an 
 incredible effect on my pot-house neighbors. I imagined that 
 the landlord was about to question me, when a vigorous hand 
 knocked on the shutters of the inn, whilst a voice cried out — 
 " Open, open, it is I ! " 
 
 Hardly was the door partly opened, (for it was then an un- 
 seasonable hour,) when a tall person, who appeared to be 
 nothing but skin and bones, slid into the room, trying to walk 
 with his back against the wall. He came and seated himself 
 in front of me. The landlord put two lights on the table. 
 This new comer had a distinguished but melancholy face. He 
 asked, as I had done, for a pot of beer and a pipe of tobacco • 
 then he appeared to busy himself in his reflections, at the 
 same time bio whig out enormous clouds of smoke, which, 
 mixed with mine, enveloped us in a few instants in an atmos- 
 phere of narcotic fog. I contemplated him, without saying a 
 word, through this cloud. His black hair, parted on the 
 forehead, fell back in curls, after the style of the heads of 
 Rubens. He. wore a straight frock coat, ornamented with 
 frogs, and what surprised me not a little, he had put on over 
 his boots large furred slippers. 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. 77 
 
 When lie had finished smoking his pipe, he took from a tin 
 case a large quantity of plants, which he spread out upon the 
 table, and set himself to examine them one after another with 
 eminent satisfaction. For the purpose of entering into con- 
 versation with him, I complimented him on the knowledge 
 that he appeared to possess of botany. He smiled in a 
 strange manner, and answered — -" Those plants that you see 
 have no real value except their rarity. I gathered them my- 
 self on the sides of the summit of Chimborazo, 
 
 As I was about asking him a new question, some one 
 knocked again at the door of the inn. The landlord went to 
 open it, and a voice cried from without — * ' Do me the kind- 
 ness to cover your mirror." . 
 
 "Ah ! " said the host, Gen. Suvarow arrives very late this 
 'evening." 
 
 At the same time a little dried-up man, rolled up in the 
 folds of a brown cloak, entered skippingly into the tavern, 
 and came and seated himself between the traveller from 
 Ohimborazo and myself. 
 
 ' ' How cold it is out, " said he ; ' ' and what a smoke there 
 is here ! I should like to have a pinch of snuff." 
 
 I hastened to offer him my steel snuff-box, polished like a 
 mirror — a pledge of friendship very dear to me. Hardly had 
 the little man thrown his eyes upon it, than he started back, 
 and cried out, whilst pushing it with both hands — ' ' To the 
 devil with your accursed mirror ! " 
 
 I looked at him in a stupor. All his features were con- 
 Tulsed, and he was pale as death. I did not dare to ask him 
 the cause of the uneasiness that he felt. I do not know what 
 of fantastic and infernal seemed to me to be attached to this 
 little man in brown. I approached my friend from Chimbo^ 
 razo, and we continued our conversation on botany. Whilst 
 conversing, I looked from time to time at the little man with 
 anxiety, and seeing his face change. -every minute, an icy 
 shuddering ran through my veins. From phrase to phrase. 
 
78 Hoffmann's stkange stories. 
 
 and undoubtedly on account of our so singular a meeting, the 
 conversation fell upon the metaphysics of happiness. 
 
 ' ' By my faith," said the man from Chirnborazo, " all my 
 philosophy resolves itself into opposing patience to the thou- 
 sand and one annoyances with which life is strown. We leave 
 every day, and every where, a rag of our poor existence at- 
 tached to some misfortune from which all human prudence 
 would not have been able to preserve us." 
 
 ' ' Faith, my dear, master," returned I, <! I am an incon- 
 testible example of the truth of what you say ; for this very 
 night I have lost, by a very disagreeable accident, my hat 
 and cloak, which remain hung up in the anteroom of the 
 counsellor of justice." 
 
 At these words I saw my two neighbors start as if they 
 had received a violent blow. The little man in brown threw 
 towards me a savage look, in which there was something 
 eminently diabolical. He jumped up into a chair, and re-ad- 
 justed carefully the red serge curtain with which the host had 
 covered the mirror, whilst the citizen from Chirnborazo snuffed 
 the candles so as not to have the slightest shadow formed. 
 
 The conversation was with difficulty renewed, and fell upon 
 the work of a young painter, then very much in vogue. 
 
 " His talent," said the tall man, "seizes the resemblance 
 with admirable art. Nothing is wanting in his portraits but 
 speech ; to such a point that they would be taken, they are so 
 animated, for a reflection stolen from a mirror." 
 
 " What stupidity ! " said the little man in brown, moving 
 about uneasily in his chair; " how can we suppose that the 
 image reflected in a mirror can be stolen ? — by whom, I ask 
 you, unless the devil meddles with it ? Yes, yes, Monsieur 
 the wise man, Monsieur the great judge in matters of art, show 
 me how, I pray you, to touch with my finger a reflection taken 
 from the first mirror we find, and I will make a pirouette a 
 hundred feet high ! " 
 
 The tall thin man arose, and approaching the little man in 
 brown, said—" Softly, my friend ; do not be so sharp, or you 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. 79 
 
 will be made to jump the simple height of the stair-case which 
 leads into the street. Zounds ! I advise you to be proud. 
 Your face must produce a pleasant effect in a looking-glass." 
 
 He had hardly finished this speech, when the little man 
 rolled over on his seat, convulsed with laughter, crying out as 
 loudly as he could — " Ha ! ha ! ha ! my poor comrade, of 
 what importance is my reflection ? I have at least a shadow 
 that has never been stolen from me." 
 
 And saying this, he went dancing out of the tavern. The 
 tall thin citizen fell back into his seat like a man annihilated. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, my dear sir ? " said I to 
 him, with a tone full of compassion. 
 
 1 ' What is the matter with me ! ' ' answered he with sobs — 
 " what is the matter with me ! Alas, that little man that 
 you saw here just now is a wicked sorcerer, who comes to 
 claim me in the last asylum where I had thought to find a 
 
 refuge against the frightful misfortune of having lost my . 
 
 Farewell, sir, farewell ! " 
 
 And the stranger rising, walked rapidly towards the door, 
 not throwing the least shadow on the walls. 
 
 " Peter Schlemihl ! Peter Schlemihl ! " exclaimed I, run- 
 ning after him ; for by this I recognized this celebrated man 
 accursed. But he had already got too far in advance of me, 
 and disappeared in the darkness. When I turned to go back 
 to my place, the host pushed me out by the shoulders, and 
 shut the door in my face, saying — " May God preserve my 
 house from such ghosts ! I would as soon serve the devil in 
 person ! " 
 
 III. 
 
 Mr. Mathieu is my intimate friend, and his porter the most 
 stylish Cerebus that I know. The latter opened to me at the 
 first sound of the bell that I rang at the door of the Golden 
 Eagle. I related to him in a few words the little miseries of 
 my evening ; and as the key of my room remained in my 
 
80 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 cloak at the house of the counsellor, he opened another room 
 for me, placed a light in it, and discreetly retired, after hav- 
 ing wished me good night. There was in this chamber a 
 large mirror covered with a curtain. I placed the light in 
 front of the glass, from which I drew aside the veil to con- 
 template the sorrowful figure that I thought I must make. 
 But hardly had I fixed my eyes upon my own image, when it 
 seemed to me that I saw a vague and floating figure come out 
 from the distant perspective formed by the mirror, and ad- 
 vance towards me. Little by little this form became distinct, 
 and I soon recognized the adored features of Julia. I could 
 not restrain a cry of surprise and love. I held out my arms 
 towards this apparition, calling out — ' 'Julia ! Julia ! " 
 
 At this moment I heard behind me a prolonged sigh. I 
 ran to the other end of the room, and drew aside quickly the 
 curtain of the bed, when I perceived, plunged in a profound 
 slumber, the little man in brown. From his breast, agitated 
 by a heavy nightmare, escaped at intervals the name of a 
 woman. 
 
 " Giulietta ! Giulietta ! " murmured he. 
 
 I felt a shudder ; but taking courage, I rudely shook the 
 little man, crying out to him — " Hallo, my friend, who the 
 devil put you into my bed ? Try, if you please, to seek for 
 lodgings elsewhere." 
 
 The little man stretched himself, awoke slowly, and said to 
 me — "Ah, thank you, sir? you have awakened me out of an 
 unpleasant dream." 
 
 He appeared, whilst saying this, so depressed, that I took 
 pity on him. I understood, besides, that the porter might 
 have opened, by mistake, this chamber, rightly occupied, and 
 that I should do wrong in disturbing the repose of its tenant. 
 
 " Sir," said the little man, leaning his elbow on the pillow, 
 " my conduct at the inn must have appeared very absurd to 
 you ; but what can I do ? I am under a cruel influence, 
 which very often exposes me to commit a great deal of rude- 
 ness." 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. 81 
 
 " Very well, my clear, sir," replied I, " I am precisely in 
 the same predicament; and this evening when I saw Julia — " 
 
 " Julia ? did you say ? " exclaimed the little man, his face 
 becoming convulsed. 
 
 "Ah, sir, I supplicate you, let me sleep ; and have the 
 kindness to put down the curtain over the glass." 
 
 Saying these words, the little man in brown hid his face in 
 the folds of the pillow. 
 
 " But, my dear unknown," replied I, raising my voice to 
 force him to hear me, " why does this woman's name, which 
 I have just pronounced, cause you so painful a sensation ? I 
 hope that you will confide this to me, when, after covering 
 the glass again, according to your desire, I shall take my 
 place in bed at your side ; for, seriously, it is time to rest." 
 
 The little man rose up on end, as if a spring had acted 
 upon him — " You will then know the secret of my miserable 
 life. Well, then, this is my story." 
 
 At the same time he got out out of bed, rolled himself up 
 in a kind of dressing-gown, and came towards the fire-place ; 
 but the curtain over the glass was not yet put back, and he 
 fixed his eyes upon it. Oh, surprising ! whilst standing erect 
 beside him, I could not see his reflection by the side of mine ! 
 
 The little man turned upon me a look filled with painful 
 emotion. " Sir," said he, "I am more to be pitied than 
 Peter Schlemihl. Schlemihl sold his shadow ; that was his 
 own fault ; and besides, he received the price of it. I, sir, 
 have given her my reflection for love — to her, to Giulietta ; 
 alas ! alas ! " 
 
 He ran and threw himself into bed, and tried to stifle his 
 moaning. 
 
 All kinds of sensations agitated my soul at the sight of a 
 scene so sorrowfully grotesque. I remained chained to the 
 place where I stood, like a real automaton, when I heard my 
 friend in bed snore like the barrel of an organ. The tempta- 
 tion to imitate him took such a strong hold of me, that ten 
 
82 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 minutes after I was sleeeping like one of the blessed, on the 
 half of the bed that he gave up to me. 
 
 An hour before day I was awakened by the shining of a 
 brilliant light. On opening my eyes, I perceived the little 
 man, half dressed, very busily employed writing by the light 
 of two candles. His grotesque appearance gave me the ver- 
 tigo. I fell into a kind of hallucination, which transported 
 me to the house of the counsellor, seated on a sofa, as the 
 night before, near Julia. The counsellor appeared to me to 
 be a sugar doll in the midst of bushes loaded with fruit, and 
 tufted with roses. Julia offered me, as before, a glass, from 
 which sparkled, like phosphorus, little blue flames. Then 
 some one pulled me from behind ; it was this very little man 
 in brown, who whispered into my ear — " Do not drink ! do 
 not drink I " 
 
 • ' What are you afraid of ? " said Julia ; " are you not wholly 
 mine, you and your reflection ? " 
 
 I took the glass from her hand, and was about drinking, 
 when the little man in brown, metamorphosed into a squirrel, 
 jumped upon my shoulder, and repeated to me — " Do not 
 drink ! do not drink \ " and with his floating tail he tried to 
 extinguish the little blue flames. 
 
 Julia spoke again — " Why,'* said she to me, " dost thou 
 refuse to take this glass, oh my beloved ? This little flame, 
 pure and brilliant, that thou seest burning on its surfaee, is 
 the emblem of the first kiss of our ancient love." 
 
 At the sound of this voice so sweet, I felt moved and trans- 
 ported. I was about pressing to my heart this idolized woman, 
 when Peter Schlemihl passed between us, and began to laugh 
 in our faces. At the same time all the persons who filled the 
 room of the counsellor, appeared to me to be changed into 
 little sugar figures, and all commenced jumping about and 
 buzzing like bees, and climbing around me like a parcel of 
 children. 
 
 I awoke ; it was broad day ; noon sounded from the belfry 
 of the neighboring church ; and I asked myself, whilst rub- 
 
XKE LOST REFLECTION. 83 
 
 bing my eyes, if the history of niy nocturnal apparitions was 
 not a nightmare, when the servant of the hotel coming in with 
 my chocolate, informed me that the stranger who had shared 
 my room and bed went away at daybreak, begging him to give 
 me his compliments. Here is what this singular person had 
 written and left, unintentionally perhaps, on the table. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It happened one day that Erasmus Spicker found himself 
 at the height of joy ; for the first time in his life he was 
 allowed to travel. He filled with gold pieces a leather belt, 
 and mounted into a travelling carriage to visit poetic Italy. 
 His dear wife took a weeping farewell of him, and held little 
 'Rasmus up to the carriage window twenty times for his father 
 to give him a kiss at parting. Then she charged her dear hus- 
 band, above all things, not to lose the travelling cap that she 
 herself had knit for him of fine wool. 
 
 Erasmus arrived at Florence, where he found several of his 
 countrymen giving themselves up, without reserve, to all the 
 pleasures of life. He set himself bravely to partake of their 
 orgies, and was with them in all their adventures. Now it 
 happened that all the joyous companions had one night ap- 
 pointed a meeting at a country seat in the suburbs, to have a 
 full feast. All of them, except Erasmus, had taken their 
 mistresses. The men wore then national costume of old Ger- 
 many ; the women were dressed in the holiday dresses of their 
 country. They ate, they drank, they sang the most delicious 
 romances of Italy. The orange trees in bloom shed their 
 perfume on the air ; the evening breeze carried through the 
 distant space bursts of voluptuous harmony ; the joy of the 
 guests rose even to the limits of delirium. 
 
 Suddenly Frederick, the freest liver of the troupe, rose. 
 With one arm he supported the waist of his mistress, and with 
 the other he raised above his head his glass filled to the brim 
 with golden, wine. 
 
8-4 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 " Oh, my friends," exclaimed he, " in what place in the 
 world could be found, better than here, all that makes life 
 worth living ? Women of Italy, if love did not exist since 
 the beginning of the world, you would have invented it ! But 
 thou, Erasmus, why then didst thou come here alone ? Why 
 alone dost thou not partake of our joy ? Why dost thou sad- 
 den us by the melancholy of thy face ? ' ' 
 
 " What shall I say to you, oh my friends," answered Eras- 
 mus ; ' ' my heart does not partake of your joy, because my 
 mind does not place its joy in the pleasures of the senses. 
 Besides, I have left in our country a faithful wife, whose con- 
 fidence I must not deceive. You are free, but I have a family 
 that I must think of unceasingly." 
 
 The young people laughed at the virtue of Erasmus, whose 
 youthful physiognomy seemed as yet so little fitted for the 
 cares of a household. Frederick's mistress had the discourse of 
 Spicker translated into Italian for her, then she said, smilingly 
 — " Here is a wise man, whom Giulietta could make lose his 
 soul." 
 
 As she said this, a woman of marvellous beauty entered 
 the room. You would have thought, to have seen her, that 
 she was one of Rubens' or Miens' virgins. 
 
 ' l Giulietta ! ' ' exclaimed the young girls. 
 
 Giulietta threw a malicious look around among the guests. 
 " Brave Germans," said she to them, " will you give me a 
 place at your joyous banquet ? Hold ! there is just one of 
 you who appears to be alone and sad ; I will go and try to 
 smooth his wrinkles." 
 
 Taking a place with ravishing coquetry near Erasmus, she 
 made, by her caresses, all the young men jealous of the good 
 fortune of Spicker. 
 
 Erasmus had felt, at the sight of Giulietta, a devouring fire 
 circulate in his veins. When he felt her near him, the pleasure 
 of desire exalted his imagination. The beautiful Italian rose, 
 took a goblet and offered it to him. Hardly had he swallowed 
 a draught of the perfidious beverage, when he fell on his 
 
ME LOST REFLECTION. 85 
 
 knees before the syren :— " Oh ! " exclaimed he, " it is thou, 
 thou alone in the world who art worthy of love, angel from 
 heaven ! — it is thou that I have sought for in my youthful 
 dreams ! I have found thee at last, — -thou art my soul, my life, 
 and my god ! " 
 
 The young men looked at each other ; some of them thought 
 that Erasmus had become mad ; they had never seen him thus 
 before. * 
 
 The whole night was passed amid songs of pleasure and 
 vows of love. When morning broke each one went his way 
 with his lady. Erasmus wanted to accompany Giulietta, but 
 she denied his pressing entreaty, and contented herself with 
 pointing out to him a house in which he might see her again. 
 Poor Spicker was obliged to regain his solitary home, 
 escorted by a little servant armed with a torch. When he 
 arrived in his street, the servant extinguished the torch on the 
 flagging stones, for day already succeeded morning. 
 
 Suddenly a tall thin man, with a hooked nose and satanic 
 look, dressed in a scarlet jacket with steel buttons, appeared 
 before Erasmus, and said to him smilingly, and in a trembling 
 voice — ''Hallo, master Spicker ! have we just escaped from 
 some old book of plates, with this costume of past times, this 
 cap of feathers, and this rapier ? Do you want the children 
 to cry after you in the streets ? You had better go quickly 
 back into your old book.'' 
 
 " What is my costume to you ? " cried Erasmus. Pushing 
 against the coxcomb, who stopped him, he tried to pass on ; 
 but the man in red stopping him, said very loudly — " Softly, 
 my friend ; do not move so quickly, and do not push people : 
 it is not time to go to the house of the beautiful Giulietta." 
 
 The color came into the face of Erasmus ; he tried to seize 
 the red man by the collar to strangle him, but he made a 
 spring from him and disappeared like a flash of lightning. 
 
 " Sir," said the valet, " do not mind this adventure; you 
 have just met the marvellous doctor of Florence, Sig. Daper- 
 tutto." 
 
86 mtmtisrsh strange MUM 
 
 The same day, Erasmus went to the place pointed out try 
 him by Giulietta. The beautiful Italian welcomed him with 
 coquetry still more refilled than the night before. She took 
 pleasure in observing the progress of the passion that Erasmus 
 had conceived for her ; but she kept Mm at a respectful dis- 
 tance, and opposed to all his efforts an immovable coldness. 
 This resistance only inflamed the more his foolish love. He 
 stopped visiting his friends to consecrate his time to following 
 the steps of Giulietta. 
 
 One day Frederick met him, took him by the arm and said 
 to him — " Knowest tbou, poor Spicker, that thou hast fallen 
 into a very dangerous snare ? How, hast thou not already 
 learnt that Giulietta is a woman of gallantry, and above all the 
 most tricky of those who have ever plucked a lover ? They tell 
 of her the most scurvy stories. Is it for such a creature as 
 this that thou canst give up thy friends, and forget thy wife 
 and child?" 
 
 At these words Erasmus understood his fault ; he covered 
 his face with his hands, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Come, Spicker," said Frederick, M let us quit Florence i 
 this dangerous city; let us go back into our good country." 
 
 " Yes," said Erasmus, " let us start this very day." 
 
 But as Frederick was going off with his friend, behold the % 
 Signor Dapertutto passed near Erasmus, and laughing in his 
 face, cried out — " Good luck, my young friend ; run, Giulietta 
 is dying of impatience and love, and accusing you of negli- 
 gence." — Erasmus stopped short, in surprise. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Frederick ; " this Dr. Dapertutto is a 
 quack, really worthy of correction. There never was a more 
 insolent monkey, since he poisons with his fashionable pills the 
 famous Giulietta." 
 
 " Giulietta ! " exclaimed Erasmus ; " does this queer fel- 
 low go to the house of Giulietta ? " 
 
 The two friends arrived under the balcony of the goddess. 
 A sweet voice called to Erasmus, who, disengaging himself 
 violently from Frederick's arm, sprang into the house. 
 
TIIE LOST REFLECTION. 87 
 
 *' Our poor friend Spicker is quite lost," said Frederick, 
 returning to his own house. 
 
 That day there was a brilliant festival in the environs of 
 Florence, which gathered together all the fashionables. Giu- 
 lietta wanted Erasmus to accompany her. They met there a 
 very ugly little Italian, who paid assiduous court to Giulietta. 
 Erasmus, wounded by the coquetry which prevented his beau- 
 tiful companion from sending off this abortion, had a fit of 
 jealousy, and rudely left the company. Griulietta, not seeing 
 him return, went after him, and having found him in a solitary 
 walk in the garden, reproached him softly, and throwing her 
 snowy amis around his neck, left on his lips a kiss of fire. 
 Erasmus lost his senses ; he was about forgetting the whole 
 universe, when Giulietta suddenly called him to himself, by a 
 look whose coldness and severity drove him to despair. Both 
 came back to the saloon. 
 
 Meanwhile the young Italian had seen the manoeuvre of 
 Giulietta. Jealousy pricked him in his kirn, he revenged 
 himself by a sudden fire of sarcasms against the Germans. 
 Erasmus went straight up to him — " I beg you, sir," said he 
 to him, " to put a stop to your impertinences against my coun- 
 trymen, or I will throw you out of the window. 
 
 At this threat, the Italian furiously drew a dagger ; but 
 Spicker was too quick for him, for he seized him and threw 
 him down so rudely that the unfortunate man expired with 
 his skull fractured. They threw themselves upon Erasmus, 
 who, seized with horror at the sight of the murder he had just 
 committed, grew pale, staggered and fainted. When he came 
 to his senses, he found himself lying upon a little couch, in a 
 boudoir lighted by a voluptuous subdued light. Giulietta 
 supported him in her arms. li Oh, wicked German ! " said 
 she with an accent of soft reproach • ' ' what uneasiness you 
 have caused me ! There is no longer any safety for you in 
 Florence, nor in all Italy; you must go and leave me forever." 
 
 " No," answered Spicker, V sooner will I die here; for is 
 ft not to die to go and live far away from you ? " 
 
OO HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 But suddenly it seemed to him that a distant voice called 
 to him sadly ; it is the voice of his dear wife ; Erasmus 
 shudders ; he is ashamed of himself. The words die upon 
 his lips — but a kiss from Giulietta renews his madness. 
 "Adored angel!" exclaimed he, "I will not separate 
 myself from thee ; why can we not be united from this hour 
 by eternal bonds ? ' ' 
 
 At this moment, two candelabras filled with wax candles, 
 lighted at the end of the boudoir a superb Venice glass. 
 
 " Friend," said Giulietta, pressing Erasmus to her heart, 
 ' ' what thou desirest is impossible ; but at least leave me thy 
 reflection, oh my beloved, in order that I may not remain 
 alone forever, deprived of thee." 
 
 " What do you say ?" exclaimed Erasmus, " my reflection V 
 
 And at the same time he drew Giulietta before the glass, 
 which reproduced their amorous position. 
 
 " How," said he to her, " couldst thou keep my reflection?" 
 
 " Friend," answered Giulietta, " the fugitive appearance 
 that is called reflection, and that is traced upon all polished 
 surfaces, can be detached from thy person, and become the 
 property of the being that thou lovest most in the world. Dost 
 thou refuse to leave me this memento ? Wilt thou deprive 
 me cruelly of this trifling pledge, which might recall to me the 
 too fleeting happiness of our tenderness? " 
 
 " To thee ! to thee now and forever ! " exclaimed Erasmus, 
 a prey to a delirium of frenzied love. " Take my reflection ; 
 and may no power of heaven or hell be able to separate it from 
 thee!" 
 
 This exclamation having exhausted his strength, he panted 
 in the embrace of the beautiful Italian. It seemed to him 
 that his image detached itself from him, from his individuali- 
 ty, and that uniting itself closely to that of Giulietta, who 
 held out her arms to it, both fled back into the perspective 
 created by the mirror, and lost themselves in a fantastic vapor ! 
 
 A mysterious terror nearly took away from Erasmus the 
 use of his senses. One moment he thought he was alone ; 
 
CTE LOST REFLECTION. 89 
 
 and seeking gropingly an outlet through the infernal darkness* 
 full of satanic and threatening voices, he descended stagger- 
 ingly a flight of stairs, that seemed ready to crumble under 
 his feet. As soon as he was in the street, at a few steps from 
 the house of Griulietta, he was taken, gagged, and thrown into 
 a carriage, which set off at a gallop. A man was seated by 
 the side of Erasmus, who said to him — " Fear nothing, dear 
 sir, Signora Griulietta has placed you in my care, in order that 
 I might carry you safely out of the Italian dominions. It is 
 annoying for you to be forced to abandon so beautiful a erea- 
 ture ; and if you will give yourself up to me without reserve, 
 I will try and save you from the vengeance of your enemies, 
 and the pursuits of justice, and you can remain at ease near 
 your beloved. " 
 
 This proposition made Erasmus start. *f I accept," said 
 he to his conductor ; ** but by what means ? " 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about that," replied the unknown. 
 " ' As soon as it is day, you will look at yourself long and at- 
 tentively in a mirror. I will execute during this time certain 
 operations with your reflection, and afterwards you shall judge 
 yourself of the efficacy of my means. ' ' 
 
 " God of heaven ! what a frightful misfortune ! " exclaimed 
 Erasmus. 
 
 " Of what misfortune do you speak, sir?" said the un- 
 known. 
 
 "'Alas ! " replied Erasmus, " I have — I have left " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! that is very funny ! " interrupted sneer- 
 ingly the man of secrets. " I understand you marvellously 
 well. You have left your reflection with Griulietta. Very 
 well, my friend ; and at this rate you can at your ease travel 
 quietly over mountains and through valleys, until you find 
 again your worthy wife and your little 'Rasmus.' ' 
 
 At this moment a troupe of young people who were singing 
 
 on the road, passed near the carriage with torches. By their 
 
 fugitive light which broke through the darkness, Erasmus 
 
 recognized by his side Dr. Dapertutto. With a blow from 
 
 8* 
 
90 Hoffmann's stkange stories. 
 
 his fist he knocked him into the corner of the carriage, opened 
 the door, sprang at a bound into the street, calling loudly to 
 Frederick and his countrymen, for it was they who had just 
 passed so near to him. 
 
 At the news of the pursuit that threatened Erasmus, Frede- 
 rick returned hastily to the city with him, in order to consult 
 on the means of avoiding it. On the morrow Erasmus started 
 on horseback on the road to Germany. 
 
 Towards the middle of his journey, he arrived in a large 
 city, and stopped at the hotel, worn out by fatigue and dying 
 of hunger. He took a place at the table, but the servant 
 perceiving in a large mirror that the chair occupied by Eras- 
 mus was reflected in it without the reflection of the traveller, 
 remarked it by a whisper in the ear of his neighbor ; the 
 latter communicated it to another, and in the twinkling of an 
 eye all at the table were emulating each other in talking about 
 this wonder. Erasmus, while eating and chinking enough 
 for four, was entirely unconscious that he had become the 
 object of general curiosity ; when an aged man came up to 
 hin*, took him by the hand, led him before the glass, and said 
 to him — " Sir, you have no reflection ; you are the devil or 
 one of his people ! " 
 
 Erasmus, furious and confused, ran and shut himself up in 
 his chamber, where the police soon came to signify that he 
 was ordered to appear before the magistrates, provided with 
 his reflection, under penalty of being driven out of the city. 
 
 Erasmus judged it most prudent to make his escape ; but 
 his story was already known all over the city, and the people 
 gathered in a crowd before the hotel, and pursued him, throw- 
 ing stones and mud, and crying out- — " There goes the ac- 
 cursed man who has sold his reflection to the devil ! " 
 
 Since that accident, everywhere he stopped he had all the 
 mirrors veiled on arriving ; and it was for that he was called 
 derisively Gen, Suvarow, because this personage had this 
 habit. 
 
 On arriving home, poor Spicker found near his wife a most 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. ' * 91 
 
 tender welcome. He though* that he should he able, in the 
 calm of domestic life, to forget his lost reflection. After some 
 time, the remembrance of Giulietta was nearly effaced from 
 his mind. But one evening, while he was playing with his 
 son near the stove, the child daubed his face with soot, and 
 cried out to him — " Father ! father ! see how black you are !" 
 and running to get a pocket mirror, he held it before Erasmus, 
 and he looked into it himself. Struck with fright at not 
 seeing the face of his father by the side of his own, he ran 
 crying away, and related his grief to his mother. 
 
 The lost reflection destroyed the peace of the household. 
 The wife of Erasmus uttered loud cries, and the neighbors 
 came in. Erasmus, mad with fury and despair, fled from the 
 house, and ran until he was out of breath in the fields. The 
 image of Giulietta appeared to him then in all the brilliancy 
 of her charms. "Oh, Giulietta ! Giulietta ! " exclaimed he ; 
 " she to whom I have sacrificed thee has repulsed me ! Giu- 
 lietta, I have no longer any one but thee in the world. I give 
 myself up to thee ; take me wholly and forever." 
 
 "And you shall be satisfied, my master," exclaimed the 
 voice of Signor Dapertutto, who suddenly appeared at his 
 side, as if by enchantment. 
 
 " Alas ! " said Erasmus, " how shall I find her again? " 
 
 " She is near by here, and more in love with you than ever," 
 replied Dapertutto. "Happy to possess you, wholly and 
 forever, she will take, my dear sir, pleasure in giving you 
 back your reflection." 
 
 " Oh, lead ine to her quickly," interrupted Spicker. 
 
 " Softly, if you please," replied the doctor, with his former 
 sneer and satanic smile. "It is necessary, before all, that 
 the ties which bind you to your wife and child be broken, in 
 order that Giulietta may have assurance of possessing you 
 wholly. Take this phial ! " 
 
 """Execrable man ! " exclaimed Erasmus, with a gesture of 
 horror, " what ! you wish me to poison my wife and child ? " 
 
 " Who speaks of poisoning?" said Dapertutto; "what I 
 
92 ■ Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 give you is an elixir, of an exquisite taste, a true family 
 liquor, with which I think you will be contented.'' 
 
 Erasmus already had the phial in his hands, and looked at 
 it mechanically. He returned to his house, and found his wife 
 and child uneasy to know what had become of him. The good 
 woman would no longer recognize him, and maintained that the 
 devil had taken his form to come and abuse her. Erasmus, driven 
 to extremity, had for an instant the thought of using the phial. 
 A tame dove came flying towards him, and picked at the cork, 
 and fell dead ! This incident recalled the poor bewitched 
 man to himself, and he threw Dapertutto's elixir out of the 
 window. A balsamic odor escaped from the broken phial. 
 Erasmus ran to his chamber, shut himself up, and wept. 
 
 Towards midnight, the image of Giulietta appeared to him. 
 His love and despair had no longer any bounds. " Oh, Griu- 
 lietta ! " cried he, "to see thee for the last time and then die !" 
 
 The door of the chamber opened without noise, and Giu- 
 lietta, more beautiful than ever, found herself in the arms of 
 Erasmus. After the first transports of their meeting, " Oh, 
 my adored one ! " exclaimed he, "if thou dost not wish me to 
 become mad, take my life — but give me back my reflection V ' 
 
 "But," said Giulietta, " I cannot do it until all the ties 
 that attach thee to the world are broken without return." 
 
 " In that case," replied Erasmus, weeping, "if I cannot 
 belong to thee as thou wishest, but by a crime, I prefer to 
 die." 
 
 "My good Erasmus," said Giulietta, passing her arms 
 around her lovers' s neck, and fixing on him a look full of 
 fascination, " no one wishes thee to commit the crime that 
 frightens thee ; but if thou wishest, my beloved, to be the 
 eternal spouse of my beauty, take this parchment, and write 
 these words : ' I give to Dapertutto full power to break the 
 ties which bind me to earth. I wish to belong wholly to Giu- 
 lietta, whom I have freely chosen for the companion of my 
 body and soul, for all eternity.' " 
 
 Erasmus felt the coldness of death running through his 
 
THE LOST REFLECTION. 93 
 
 nerves, whilst his lips burned under the kisses of the enchan- 
 tress. Suddenly he saw rise up behind her Dapertutto, 
 dressed in red, who presented to him an iron pen, saying : — 
 ;; Write and sign ! " At the same time, a little vein in the 
 left hand of Erasmus burst, and the blood flowed. — " Sign, my 
 beloved," murmured Giulietta. The work was about to be 
 accomplished — Erasmus had dipped the pen into his blood, 
 and leaned over to write, when a white figure came out of the 
 floor, and placed itself between him and Giulietta. 
 
 "In the name of the Saviour," said the figure, sobbing, 
 "do it not." 
 
 It was the shade of his mother ! Erasmus threw the pen 
 on the ground, and tore up the writing. Immediately the 
 eyes of Giulietta threw out blood-red flames ; her beau- 
 tiful face decomposed, and her whole body became covered 
 with greenish sparks. Erasmus Spicker made the sign of the 
 cross, and Giulietta and Dapertutto vanished grumblingly in 
 a whirlwind of sulphurous smoke, which extinguished the light. 
 The poor man remained long in a faint. At the break of 
 day, a fresh breeze re-animated him ; he went back to his 
 wife, whom he found still in bed, She held out her hand to 
 him, and said, "Poor friend, I have learnt this nio-ht in a 
 dream, the adventure which deprived thee of thy reflection in 
 Italy. I pity and pardon thee. The power of the demon 
 is great, but God is stronger than he. I hope that now the 
 charm is destroyed, for I have prayed for thee all night long. 
 Here, take this mirror and look." 
 
 Erasmus grew pale. The glass did not reproduce his face; 
 and he let it fall. "Ah ! " continued his wife, " it appears 
 that thou has not done sufficient penitence. Well, my dear 
 husband, thou must go back to Italy, and seek for thy reflec- 
 tion. Some good saint will perhaps force the devil to give it 
 back to thee. Kiss me, Erasmus, and niayst thou have a 
 good journey ! When thou shalt have become a perfect man 
 again, thou mayst come back to thy home ; and thou shalt 
 receive a good welcome." 
 
91 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 At these words, madame Spicker turned in the bed, towards 
 the wall, shut her eyes, and commenced snoring almost im-. 
 mediately. Erasmus, his heart bursting with grief, tried to 
 kiss his child ; but the little one struggled, crying out like 
 a whipped dog. The poor father placed him on the ground 
 without saying a word, took his cane, and started immediately. 
 Since that time he is travelling through the world. He met, 
 one day, Peter Schlemihl, and these two unfortunate creatures 
 made an agreement to travel in company, hiding each other's 
 infirmities ; so that Erasmus Spicker furnished his travelling 
 companion with a shadow, who, in turn was to lend the re- 
 flection that was wanting. But they could not agree, and 
 they separated, calling each other hard names, like two black- 
 guards. 
 
ANTONIA'S SONG, 
 
 L 
 
 That evening, the brothers of the joyous Serapion Club 
 had met early at Theodore's house. The winter wind whistled 
 in long gusts, that whipped with snow the glasses, shaken in 
 their leaden sashes ; but a large grate shone under the cloak 
 of the old chimney-piece ; its warm light caressed with a 
 thousand capricious reflections the brown-tinted benches which 
 contrasted by their aged look, with the mad gaiety of the in- 
 habitants of the room. Soon pipes begin to smoke, seats arc 
 taken, in accustomed order around a stand on which flames a 
 flowing bowl of friendly punch. The assembly is complete ; 
 no one is missing at the call of the chairman ; the Bohemian 
 cup is filled and is circulated ; the talk becomes general ; the 
 time passes, but the punch and the stories are renewed ; the 
 imaginations become gradually exalted, eccentricity reaches 
 its utmost limit. — " Now, then, dear Theodore," suddenly ex- 
 claimed one of the joyous livers, " the conversation will end 
 if you refuse to gratify us with one of those stories that make 
 you go to sleep standing, that you relate so well ; but we 
 must have something strange and moving, fantastic and anti- 
 narcotic." 
 
 1 ' Let us drink, ' ' said Theodore ; " I have just what you want, 
 I will, if you please, tell you a very droll anecdote of the life 
 of the counsellor Krespel. This worthy personage, who ex- 
 isted in flesh and blood, was indeed the most singular man 
 
96 Hoffmann's sthange stories. 
 
 that I ever met. When I came to the university of II -, 
 
 to follow a course in philosophy, the whole city conversed 
 about counsellor Krespel, and they related of him certain 
 peculiarities of the most surprising character. Figure to 
 yourself that Krespel enjoyed, from this time, the most dis- 
 tinguished reputation as a wise lawyer and practised diplo- 
 matist. A little prince of Germany, whose vanity excelled 
 his domain, had requested Krespel's presence to entrust him 
 with the drawing up of a memorial designed to justify his 
 rights, touching territory, adjoining his principality, which he 
 counted on claiming before the imperial court. The result of 
 this affair was so satisfactory, that, in the excess of his joy, 
 the prince swore to grant to his favorite, as a reward for the 
 famous memorial, the most exorbitant wish that he could form. 
 The honest Krespel, who had complained all his lifetime that 
 he could not find a house to his mind, imagined that he would 
 construct one according to his own fancy, for which the prince 
 would pay the expense. The gracious sovereign even pro- 
 posed to buy the land which the counsellor should choose ; 
 but Krespel was contented with a little garden that he pos- 
 sessed near his residence, and in one of the most picturesque 
 sites imaginable. He occupied himself at first with getting 
 together and having transported there all the materials for 
 his future edifice ; from that time they saw him every day, 
 accoutred in a strange costume that he had fabricated himself, 
 slackening the lime, sifting the sand, and piling up the stones 
 in heaps. 
 
 All these preparations were finished without his having 
 called in any architect, or appearing to have followed any 
 
 plan. One fine morning, our man came to the city of H , 
 
 to seek for a skilful master mason, and request him to go the 
 following clay to his garden with a sufficient number of work- 
 men toburki his walls. The master mason, who naturally ' 
 wished to discuss the price of his labor and the enterprise, was 
 very much astonished when Krespel gravely assured him that 
 such a precaution was entirely useless, and that all would 
 
97 
 
 arrange itself, without dispute or embarrassment. At dawn 
 on the following day, when the master-mason arrived at the 
 place indicated with his workmen, he found a trench traced in 
 a regular square, and Krespel said to him : — " It is here that 
 the foundations of my house are to be dug ; then you will 
 raise the four enclosing walls until I judge that they are high 
 enough.' ' 
 
 " Without windows or doors, and without partition walls ? 
 Do you dream ? " exclaimed the master-mason, looking at 
 Krespel as a madman. 
 
 " Have the kindness to do what I tell you, my good man/' 
 coldly replied the counsellor, " everything shall have its turn." 
 
 The certainty of being generously paid could alone deter- 
 mine the master to undertake this construction, which seemed 
 absurd to him ; the workmen went gaily to work, laughing 
 inwardly at the expense of the proprietor ; they worked day 
 and night, drinking and eating well at the cost of the counsel- 
 lor, who seldom left them. The four walls arose, constantly, 
 until one morning Krespel cried out : — " That is enough ! " 
 The workmen stopped immediately like true automatonSj and, 
 leaving their scaffolding, came and ranged themselves in a 
 circle around Krespel, and by their joking looks each one 
 seemed to say to him: "Master, what are we to do?" 
 
 " Room there ! room," exclaimed the counsellor, after 
 several moments' reflection ; and, running to the other 
 end of the garden, he came back again counting his steps, 
 towards his square of walls ; then shaking his head discon- 
 tentedly, he renewed this pantomime on each face of the 
 enclosure, until at last, as if struck with a sudden idea, he 
 rushed with his head down towards a point in the wall, crying 
 out as loud as he could: — "Here, here, my boys, take the 
 pickaxe and dig me a door ! " He sketched at the same 
 time on the wall the exact dimension of the issue that he 
 wanted. It was the affair of a moment. Then he entered 
 the house, and smiled like a man charmed with his master- 
 piece, when the master-mason observed to him that the four 
 9 
 
98 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 walls were just the height of a two story house. Krespel 
 walked around* in the interior space, followed by the masons, 
 carrying their pickaxes and hammers ; he measured, calcu- 
 lated, and ordered by turns : — " Here a window, six feet 
 high, and four broad ; there a less opening, three feet high, 
 and two broad." And the work followed his word. 
 
 Now then, my friends, it was at the time of this singular 
 work, concerning which everybody was talking, that I arrived 
 
 at H >, and nothing, indeed, was more amusing than to 
 
 see certain boobies, with their noses stuck through the gratings 
 of Krespel' s garden, and uttering shouts every time that a 
 stone was detached under the pick, every time that a new 
 window was dug in the wall here and there, as if by enchant- 
 ment. All the other labors on this house were executed in 
 a like manner, without a reasonable plan in advance, and ac- 
 cording to the inspirations entirely spontaneous in the brain 
 of master Krespel. The piquant singularity of this enter- 
 prise, the acquired belief that it would definitely succeed be- 
 yond all hope, and more than anything else, the generosity of 
 counsellor Krespel, animated the zeal of the workmen ; thus, 
 thanks to their activity, the house was very soon finished ; it 
 offered from the outside an appearance of the strangest singu- 
 larity ; for not one window was like the other, and every 
 detail was in great disparity ; but examined on the interior, it 
 was indeed the most commodious habitation that it was possi- 
 ble to imagine ; and I readily agreed to it myself when, after 
 several days of more intimate acquaintance, master Krespel 
 did the honors of it for me. He crowned his work by a cere- 
 monious feast, to which the masons alone were admitted, and 
 the journeymen and apprentices who had executed his plans. 
 This splendid festival must have offered the most original sight. 
 The most elegant dishes were there devoured by mouths 
 little fitted to appreciate such delicacies ; after the feast, the 
 wives and daughters of these good people got up a ball, at 
 which Krespel was not too dignified to dance in person ; then, 
 when his legs, a little intractable, refused him their service, 
 
aotonia's song. 99 
 
 lie armed himself with a violin, and made his guests dance 
 until daylight, like real puppets. 
 
 The Tuesday following, I met master Krespel at the house of 
 Professor M- — -. Nothing could have been stranger than the 
 figure that he made that evening. Each one of his movements 
 was stamped with so abrupt an awkwardness, that I trembled 
 every moment with the expectation of seeing him the cause of 
 some accident ; but they were undoubtedly accustomed to his 
 crochets, for the mistress of the house was not frightend in the 
 least to see him now dance near a large tray of china porcelain, 
 now throw his legs about before a mirror on a level with the 
 floor, or draw his long cuffs amongst the costal glasses that he 
 hustled about one after another by the light of the wax candles. 
 At supper the scene changed. From curious as he was, 
 Krespel became talkative ; he jumped unceasingly from one 
 idea to another, and talked about everything with great volu- 
 bility, in a voice by turns shrill or soft, quick or drawling. 
 They spoke of music and of a fashionable composer. Kres- 
 pel smiled and said lispingly : — " I wish that a hundred 
 million devils would carry these scratch notes to the bottom of 
 hell ! " Then he suddenly cried in a voice of thunder : — 
 ** He is a seraphim for harmony ! He is the genius of song ! " 
 And saying this his eyes became moistened with tears. It 
 was necessary, in order not to think him mad or absent, to 
 remember that one hour before he had spoken with enthusiasm 
 of a celebrated singer. A hare having made its appearance 
 on the table, Krespel put aside the bones, and called for the 
 paws, that the professor's daughter, a charming little girl of 
 five years, joyfully brought him. The children of the house 
 seemed to have a great affection for the counsellor, and I was 
 not long in discovering the cause, when, after supper, I saw 
 Krespel draw from his pocket a box containing a steel 
 turning lathe, with which he commenced turning, of the bones 
 of the hare, a crowd of lilliputian toys that his little friends, 
 arranged in a circle about him, shared amongst themselves 
 with cries of pleasure. Suddenly the professor's niece, M , 
 
100 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 took a notion to say: — " What has become, dear master 
 Krespel, of our good Antonia?" 
 
 The counsellor made a grimace like an epicure who bites 
 a sour orange ; his countenance darkened, and his look became 
 very disagreeable, when he answered through his teeth, 
 
 " Our own dear Antonia? " 
 
 The professor, who perceived the effect that this unlucky 
 question produced, cast a reproachful look on his niece, and 
 as if to divest the ill humor of Krespel: — " How go the 
 violins ? " exclaimed he, pressing the hand of his guest in a 
 friendly manner. KrespePs countenance changed in an 
 instant. 
 
 " They go very well, my dear professor. I have begun to 
 take to pieces Amati's celebrated violin, that a lucky chance 
 has lately made me possessor of; I hope that Antonia has 
 done the rest." 
 
 "Antonia is an amiable girl," continued the professor. 
 
 " Yes, certainly, she is an angel ! " exclaimed Krespel, 
 sobbing ; and, suddenly taking his hat and cane, he precip- 
 itately went away, like a man beside himself. Struck with 
 this singularity, I questioned the professor concerning the his- 
 tory of the counsellor, 
 
 "Ah ! " said he to me, "he is a very singular man, who 
 makes violins as skilfully as he draws up memorials ; as soon 
 as he has finished one of these instruments, he tries it for an 
 hour or two, and it is a delicious music to hear ) then he 
 hangs it upon the wall with others, and never touches it again. 
 If he succeeds in procuring the violin of a celebrated master, 
 he buys it, plays on it once, takes it to pieces, and throws the 
 pieces in a chest which is already nearly filled." 
 
 " But who is Antonia ? " asked I impatiently. 
 
 " That is a mystery," gravely replied the professor. 
 
 The counsellor lived several years ago, in an isolated house, 
 with an old housekeeper. The singularity of his manners ex- 
 cited the curiosity of the neighborhood. To withdraw him- 
 self from it, he formed some acquaintances and showed him- 
 
antonia's song. 101 
 
 self in several drawing rooms. He made himself agreeable ; 
 he was liked ; he was thought to be a bachelor ; he never 
 spoke of his family. At the end of a certain time he was 
 absent for several months. The evening of the day that he 
 came back here, it was remarked that his apartment was 
 illuminated ; then a ravishing woman's voice accorded with a 
 harpsichord, accompanied by a violin, powerfully animated 
 under the bow. The passers-by stopped in the street, and 
 the neighbors listened at their windows in a charmed silence. 
 Towards midnight the singing stopped ; the counsellor's voice 
 was raised in a hard and threatening manner ; another man's 
 voice seemed to reproach him, and, from time to time, the 
 complaints of a young girl interrupted the dispute. Sudden- 
 ly, a piercing cry, uttered by the young girl, ended the crisis ; 
 then a singular noise, like that of people struggling together, 
 is heard in the stairway. A young man comes out of the 
 house weeping, throws himself into a travelling carriage that 
 was waiting for him a few steps off, and all becomes mourn- 
 fully silent again. Bach one asked himself the secret of this 
 drama. On the morrow, Krespel appeared as calm and 
 serene as usual, and no one dared to question him. But the 
 old housekeeper could not resist the temptation of whispering, 
 to whoever would listen to her, that the counsellor had brought 
 with him a beautiful young girl whom he called Antonia ; that 
 a young man, madly in love with Antonia, had followed them, 
 and nothing but the anger of the counsellor would have driven 
 him from the house. As to the relation that existed between 
 the counsellor and Antonia, it was a secret to which the old 
 housekeeper had not the solution. She only said that master 
 Krespel odiously confined her, hardly ever taking his eyes 
 from her, and not even allowing her tq sing, to amuse herself, 
 whilst playing the harpsichord. Thus Antonia's song, which 
 had only once been heard, became the marvellous legend of 
 neighborhood ; and no singer could succeed in gaining ap- 
 plause in the city : « ' There is no one, ' ' said they, * * but Antonia 
 
 who knows how to sing." All that the professor had told me 
 
 9* 
 
102 Hoffmann's stkange stories. 
 
 made so strong an impression on my mind, that I dreamed 
 of it every night. I became madly in love, and I only thought 
 of the means of introducing myself, at whatever cost, into 
 Krespel's house, to see the mysterious Antonia, swear an 
 eternal love for her, and rescue her from her tyrant. Unfor- 
 tunately for my romance, things came about in a very peacea- 
 ble manner ; and hardly had I met the counsellor two or 
 three times, and flattered his mania by talking of violins, than 
 he asked me himself, and in the simplest manner, to come 
 and see him at his house. God only knows what I then felt ; 
 I thought that the sky was opening. Master Krespel made 
 me examine all of his violins very carefully, without omitting 
 one, and truly there were more than thirty of them ! One of 
 them, of very ancient construction, was suspended higher 
 than the others, and ornamented with a crown of flowers. 
 Krespel told me that it was the masterpiece of an unknown 
 master, and that the sounds drawn from it exercised an irre- 
 sistible magnetism on the senses, the influence of which forced 
 the somnambulist to reveal his secret thoughts. 
 
 " I have never had the courage," said he, " to take this 
 instrument to pieces for the purpose of studying its construction. 
 It seems to me that that there is life in it, and that I should 
 become a murderer ; I very seldom play upon it, and only 
 for my Antonia, who experiences, whilst listening to it, the 
 sweetest sensations." 
 
 At the name Antonia, I trembled. 
 
 " My good counsellor," said I to him, in an accent of ca- 
 ressing insinuation, " would you not do me the favor to play 
 on it for a moment for me ? " Krespel in an ironical man- 
 ner, and in a nasal tone, answered me, emphasizing every 
 syllable : — " No, my good master student." 
 
 This fashion disconcerted me. I did not reply, and Krespel 
 finished, showing me his cabinet of curiosities. 
 
 Before separating, he drew from a casket a folded paper, 
 which he gave me, saying, very gravely : — " Young man, you 
 love the arts : accept this, then, as a precious remembrance." 
 
ANTON I A' S SONG. 
 
 103 
 
 Then, without waiting for an answer, he gently pushed me 
 towards the door, which he shut in my face. I opened the 
 paper ; it contained a little piece of a violin string, an eighth 
 of an inch long, to which was appended this inscription : 
 " Fragment of a string with which the divine Stamitz strung 
 his violin when he played at his last concert." In spite of 
 the strange dismission which the counsellor had given me, I 
 could not resist the desire of visiting him again ; and it was 
 fortunate that I did so, for, at this second visit, I found 
 Antonia with him, busied in arranging the pieces of a violin 
 that he was examining. She was an extremely pale young 
 girt, that a breath had animated, and who had afterwards 
 become white and cold as alabaster. I was astonished to find 
 in Krespel, that day, an ease and cordiality which contrasted 
 strongly with the tyrannic jealousy of which the professor had 
 spoken. I talked freely before him with Antonia, without 
 his appearing to be annoyed ; my visits were renewed, and I 
 was welcomed ; a sweet and free intimacy grew up between 
 us, unknown to the gossips, who would not have failed to char- 
 acterize it as scandalous. 
 
 The singularities of Krespel often amazed me ; but I con- 
 fess that Antonia alone was the magnet that attracted me to 
 his house, and made me tolerate his extreme capriciousness of 
 character. Every time that I led the conversation to the 
 subject of music, he became as irritable as a tormented cat, 
 and, with good or ill grace, I was obliged to give way and 
 suddenly take my leave. 
 
 One evening, I found him in a gay humor ; he had taken 
 to pieces an old Cremona violin, and discovered an important 
 secret in art. Profiting by his satisfaction, I succeeded this 
 time in making him talk about music ; we criticised the pre- 
 tensions of several virtuosos admired by the world. Krespel 
 laughed at my sallies ; Antonia fixed her great eyes upon me. 
 1 Yo« do not, ' ' said I to her, ' ' in singing, and accompani- 
 ollow the example of any of our pretended conquerors 
 mlties ? " The pale cheeks of the young girl became 
 
104 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 tinged with a sweet blush ; and, as if some electric spark 
 had pervaded her whole being, she sprang towards the harpsi- 
 chord, — opened her lips, — she was about to sing, when Kres- 
 pel drawing her back, and pushing me away, cried out in the 
 voice of a stentor : — " Young man ! young man ! youno* 
 man ! " 
 
 Then suddenly resuming his former ceremonious manners, 
 he added : 
 
 " I am truly too polite, my dear master student, to beg the 
 devil to strangle you ; but it is pretty late, as you see, and it is 
 dark enough for you to break your neck without troubling me to 
 throw you down stairs. So then, oblige me by going home, 
 and keep in good remembrance your old friend, if — do you 
 understand ?— if by chance you should no longer find him at 
 home." 
 
 At these words, he embraced me as at our first meeting, 
 and led me out without giving me an opportunity to throw a 
 last sad look at Antonia. Professor M was not back- 
 ward in rallying me, and told me that I was forever scratched 
 
 from the counsellor's books. I left H with a wounded 
 
 soul ; but, by degrees, absence and distance softened this 
 violent grief ; the image of Antonia, the remembrance of that 
 heavenly song that I had been permitted to hear, became 
 effaced, were veiled insensibly by a mysterious slumbering in 
 my thoughts. 
 
 Two years later, I was travelling in the south of Germany. 
 
 The city of H was again in my path ; as I approached 
 
 it, an agonized sensation weighed upon me ; it was in the 
 evening ; the church spires appeared on the horizon in the 
 blue mist which precedes the darkness of night ; I could 
 hardly breathe, I had to leave the carriage and continue the 
 journey on foot. By degrees this sensation took a stranger 
 character ; I imagined that I heard in the air modulations of 
 a sweet and fantastic song ; then I distinguished voices that 
 were singing a chant. 
 
 " What is that ? what is that ? " exclaimed I, in a : 
 ened tone which surprised a passer. 
 
antonia's song. 105 
 
 " Do you not see," said this man, the cemetery on your 
 left? It is an interment that is taking place ! " At this 
 moment the descending road commanded a view of the ceme- 
 tery, and I saw in effect, that they were filling up the grave. 
 My heart felt a pang ; it seemed to me that they were shut- 
 ting up in this grave a whole life of hope and happiness. At 
 
 a few steps from the city, I met professor M , leaning on 
 
 the arm of his niece ; they were both returning from this 
 lugubrious ceremony. They passed near me, without being 
 aware of it. The young girl was weeping. 
 
 I could not restrain the impatience which was consuming 
 me. Instead of entering the city, I sent my servant with 
 my baggage to a hotel that I knew, then I ran breathlessly 
 towards Krespel's little house. On opening the garden gate, 
 I saw in the linden walk the counsellor, conducted by two 
 persons dressed in mourning, between whom he was struggling 
 desperately. He wore his old gray coat, which he had cut 
 himself and fashioned in so strange a manner ; his person 
 was not in the least changed, except that he wore a long piece 
 of crape hanging from his little three-cornered hat. He had 
 buckled around him a black belt, in which he wore a violin- 
 bow instead of a sword. I shuddered at the sight of this. 
 " He is mad ! " said I to myself. The men who accompanied 
 him stopped at the door of the house. There Krespel em- 
 braced them, laughing in a guttural voice ; they retired, and 
 his eyes then fell upon me. 
 
 " You are welcome, master student ; you will understand 
 me;" and, taking me by the hand, he led me into the closet 
 where his violins were arranged. A broad black crape covered 
 them ; but the unknown master's violin was no longer there ; 
 a wreath of cypress marked its place. I understood all. 
 "Antonia! Antonia ! " exclaimed I, madly. But Krespel 
 stood by me, with his arms folded, staring fixedly. 
 
 " When she expired,'* said he to me in a voice which he 
 endeavored in vain to restrain, "the soul of that violin de- 
 parted, bursting with a mournful sound, and the sounding 
 
106 
 
 HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 board splitting in pieces. That old instrument which she 
 loved, could not survive her ; I have shut it up near her in 
 her coffin." 
 
 On finishing this speech, the counsellor's physiognomy 
 became suddenly changed ; he commenced singing, in a cracked 
 and grating voice, a comic song ; and it was frightful to see 
 him jumping on one foot around the room, whilst the floating 
 crape on his hat, brushing over all the violins, also brushed 
 against my face. I could not restrain a piercing cry ; he 
 stopped short : — " My little man, my little man, why dost 
 thou scream so ? hast thou seen the angel of death 2 he al- 
 ways precedes the ceremony." 
 
 Then he came into the middle of the room, and, raising the 
 bow which he carried by his side, in both hands above his 
 head, he violently broke it and threw the pieces far away 
 from him. 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed he, now I am free, free, free ! I will 
 make no more violins ! no ! no more violins ! " 
 
 The unfortunate Krespel howled these words in infernal 
 cadence, and continued his course, hopping around the room. 
 Frozen with fear, I started to fly ; he stopped me with his 
 nervous arm. 
 
 " Stop, master student, do not take my convulsions for 
 madness ; all this is inflicted upon me, because, several days 
 ago, I had a dressing gown cut, in which I wished to look like 
 Destiny or God !" 
 
 The unfortunate man told me a thousand extravagancies, 
 until, exhausted by his exaltation, he fell almost insensible. 
 His old housekeeper ran on hearing my call. I left him in 
 her arms. When I saw professor M — - — again, I told him 
 that I thought counsellor Krespel mad. 
 
 " I hope that it is not so," answered he. " The fermenta- 
 tion of thought, which would destroy the brain of any other 
 man, is dissipated by action in the case of our poor friend. 
 His disordered agitation exhausting his nervous excitement, 
 will save him. The sudden death of Antonia crushed him. 
 
107 
 
 But let a day or two pass, and I engage that he will resume, 
 of his own accord, his habits of every day life." 
 
 The prediction was realized. On the morrow, Krespel was 
 very calm ; he only repeated that he would make no more 
 violins, and that he would never touch one again during his 
 life. 
 
 All this had not enlightened me as to the mystery which 
 enveloped the connection of Antonia with counsellor KrespeL 
 The more I thought of it, the more some instinct unceasingly 
 told me that there had existed between these two beings some- 
 thing odious to become acquainted with. Antonia always 
 appeared to me in my dreams like a victim. I would not 
 
 leave H without provoking an explanation which must, 
 
 perhaps, lead to the revelation of a crime. I became excited 
 hourly. I was about to burst, like a thunder clap, into the 
 counsellor's closet. I found him as calm and smiling as an 
 innocent man ; seated near a little table, he was turning chil- 
 dren's toys. 
 
 " Execrable man," exclaimed I, "how canst thou taste a 
 moment's peace, whilst thy conscience must gnaw thy heart 
 like a serpent's tooth ? " 
 
 The counsellor fixed on me an astonished look, and, laying 
 his chisel down by his side : — " What is the meaning of this, 
 my very dear sir ? Take the trouble to be seated." 
 
 So much coolness irritated me more ; and I accused him 
 loudly with the murder of Antonia, swearing that in my quality 
 of advocate I would, by all the means in my power, provoke a 
 judicial inquiry into the cause of this misfortune. My ex- 
 altation became gradually exhausted in words. When I had 
 ended, the counsellor had not ceased to look at me very tran- 
 quilly. 
 
 " Inconsiderate youth," he then said to me, in a voice 
 whose solemn gravity confounded me; " young man, by what 
 right dost thou wish to penetrate the secrets of a life that was 
 always unknown to thee ? Antonia is no more ! What 
 matters the rest to thee ! " 
 
108 Hoffmann's strange stories 
 
 There was at this time, in the calmness of this man, some- 
 thing peculiarly sad. I felt that I had acted indiscreetly ; I 
 asked his pardon, supplicating him to relate to me some par- 
 ticulars of the life of the angel that I mourned. He then 
 took me by the hand, led me to the balcony, and with his 
 eyes bent upon the garden, he confided to me a story, of 
 which my memory has only retained that which related to 
 Antonia. Counsellor Krespel had, in his youth, the passion 
 of collecting at any price violins formerly belonging to the 
 great masters. His researches led him to Italy, to Venice, 
 where he heard, at the Theatre San Benedetto, the famous 
 singer Angela. Her ravishing beauty made no less impres- 
 sion than her talents on the heart of the counsellor. A secret 
 marriage united them ; but the beautiful songstress, angel at 
 the theatre, was a devil at home ; Krespel, after a thousand 
 and one stormy scenes, made up his mind to take refuge in 
 the country, where he consoled himself as well as he could 
 with an excellent Cremona violin. But the lady, jealous, like 
 a pure-blooded Italian, came to arouse him in his retreat. 
 One day, she entered the summer-house where Krespel was 
 improvising a whole musical world. She placed her pretty 
 head upon her husband's shoulder, and looked at him with an 
 eye filled with love. The counsellor, lost in the regions of 
 the ideal, handled his bow with so much ardor, that he scratch- 
 ed, without intending it, the satin neck of Angela. She 
 sprang up furiously: — "German beast!" exclaimed she; 
 and, angrily seizing the Cremona violin, she broke it into a 
 thousand pieces on the marble table. The counsellor was at 
 first petrified ; then one of those nervous movements which 
 cannot be analyzed, contracted his limbs ; he threw the beau- 
 tiful songstress out of the window of his own house, and fled 
 to Germany. But, on the road, when he thought of the 
 strangeness of the event, and although he had not acted with 
 premeditation, he felt the most painful regret ; for he remem- 
 bered that the lady had flattered him incessantly with the 
 sweet hope of making him a father. Imagine then his gur= 
 
antonia's song. 109 
 
 prise when, eiglit months afterward, he received in a remote 
 part of Germany, one of the most tender letters, in which 
 his dear wife, without recalling in any manner the accident at 
 the country seat, announced to him the birth of a daughter, 
 and entreated him to come back to Venice. Krespel, sus- 
 pecting some trick, made inquiries : he learned, in effect, that 
 the beautiful Italian had fallen on some flower beds that had 
 softened her fall, and that the only result of the flight that 
 this nightingale had taken out of the window, was a fortunate 
 change of character. The lady was no longer capricious, or 
 choleric ; the conjugal remedy had performed a miracle. 
 The good counsellor was so touched by this news, that he im- 
 mediately ordered the horses to be put to his carriage. But 
 hardly had he got in, than he reflected. 
 
 " Devil ! " said he to himself, " if the lady should not turn 
 out to be radically cured, would it be necessary to throw her 
 out of the window again?" This question was difficult to 
 solve. 
 
 Krespel went back to his house, wrote a long letter to his 
 dear wife, in which he congratulated her on his daughter's 
 having, like himself, a little mark behind the ear : then, he re- 
 mained in Germany. New letters passed between them. Pro- 
 testations of love, projects for the future, complaints and soft 
 
 prayers flew like doves, from Venice to H . One fine 
 
 day Angela came to Germany, and attracted attention to her 
 singing in the theatre at F . Although she was not ex- 
 tremely young, she inspired passions, made some happy, and 
 an infinity of victims. 
 
 Meanwhile, Krespel' s little daughter had grown up ; she was 
 called Antonia, and her mother found in her a singer of nearlv 
 her own force. Krespel, knowing that his wife was so near 
 him, was dying with a desire to embrace his child ; but the 
 fear of the follies of the lady restrained him, and he remained 
 at home, amongst his violins, that never contradicted him. 
 
 At that time a young musician, of great promise, fell in 
 love with Antonia ; Krespel, consulted, was pleased to have 
 10 
 
110 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 his daughter many an artist who had no rival on the violin ; 
 and he expected to hear from day to day the news of the 
 marriage, when a letter sealed with black, and directed in an 
 unknown hand, came to announce to him that Angela had 
 just died of pleurisy, the night before the wedding of Antonia 
 was to take place ; the last prayer of the songstress was to 
 Krespel to come and take charge of the orphan : he set off 
 without losing a minute. 
 
 The young bridegroom, who had not left Antonia in this 
 hour of tribulation, was present on the arrival of the father. 
 
 One evening when they were together, and Krespel was 
 thinking of the departed, Antonia placed herself at the harp- 
 sichord, and sang a mournful air ; it would have been said, 
 on hearing her, that the soul of her mother trembled in her 
 voice. Krespel could not bear it ; sobs stifled his voice ; he 
 arose, clasped the young girl in his arms, and pressed her 
 closely. 
 
 " Oh ! no," exclaimed he, "if thou lovest me, sing no 
 more ! It breaks my heart to hear thee ! Never sing more." 
 
 Antonia threw upon her father a long gaze ; and in this 
 look there were tears for a dream of happiness just ready to 
 vanish. Her black hair fell in ebony folds, on her snowy 
 shoulders :— her form bowed like a broken stalk : — Krespel 
 wept at seeing her so beautiful : for a fatal instinct had re- 
 vealed the future to him. Antonia became paler, and in her 
 face the counsellor had discovered a sign of death. He con- 
 templated with fear, this germ, which every hour would de- 
 velope. 
 
 "No, no, my friend," said the counsellor afterwards to 
 
 doctor E, , a famous physician, ' ' no, those brilliant red 
 
 spots which color, when she sings, her cheeks, do not proceed 
 from animation ! No, that is what I fear." 
 
 " Well, then," replied the doctor, "I shall not be under 
 the necessity of dissimulating with you my own uneasiness, 
 either that this young girl has made premature efforts to sing, 
 or that nature has left in so fine a work an organic defect. I 
 
AtfTONIA^S SONG. Ill 
 
 believe that the sonorous sound of her voice, which exceeds 
 the power of her age, is an indication of danger, and I do not 
 give her six months to live, if you allow her to sing." 
 
 The counsellor trembled at this threat : it seemed to him 
 that he saw a fine bush covered with its first blossoms, and 
 that a pitiless hand was about cutting from the root. His 
 resolution was rapidly taken ; he opened before Antonia the 
 two future courses ; one, passing through marriage and the 
 seductions of an artist's life, would, perhaps, in a short time 
 lead to the tomb ; the other would preserve to an old father a 
 cherished child, his only joy and his final happiness. Antonia 
 understood the sacrifice that her father implored. She threw 
 herself into his arms without a word in answer. Krespel 
 dismissed the bridegroom, and, two days afterwards, he ar- 
 rived at H , with his daughter, his treasure. But the 
 
 young man could not thus renounce the felicity which he had 
 promised himself. He followed Krespel, and met him at his 
 door. The counsellor rudely repulsed him. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed poor Antonia, "to see him, to hear 
 him once more, and then die ! " 
 
 "To die, to die!" repeated the counsellor, wildly : "to 
 see thee die, oh my child ! thou, the only being that binds 
 me to the world ! Well then, let it be as thou wishest : and 
 if thou diest, do not curse thy unfortunate father." 
 
 The sacrifice was decided upon. The musician was to take 
 his place at the harpsichord. Antonia sang ; Krespel took 
 his violin and played without ceasing, and with his eyes fixed 
 upon his daughter, until he saw the purple spots appear on 
 her pale cheeks. Then he violently interrupted the singing, 
 and made a sign to the musician to go. Antonia, seeing him 
 about to leave, uttered a piercing cry and fell fainting. 
 
 " I thought for a moment," said Krespel to me, on finish- 
 ing the relation of this sad story, "that my poor child was 
 dead. I seized the accursed bridegroom by the shoulders. 
 1 Go,' cried I to him, ' go quickly ! for my daughter is so 
 pale, that I do not know what restrains me from plunging a 
 
112 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 knife into your heart, to warm her and color her cheeks with 
 your blood ! ' 
 
 " I had, undoubtedly, in saying these words, so terrible an 
 aspect, that the miserable man rushed down stairs like a mad- 
 man, and, I have never seen him since." 
 
 When the counsellor raised his daughter, she opened her 
 eyes and closed them again immediately. The physician, 
 whom they ran hastily to seek, said that the accident, though 
 serious, would probably have no serious consequences. A 
 few days after, she seemed nearly recovered. Her filial love 
 offered a touching picture ; she had devoted herself, with the 
 most amiable resignation, to his mania and his caprices ; she 
 assisted him with angelic patience to take to pieces the old 
 violins that he bought, and in making new ones. 
 
 "No, dear father," said she to him often with a melancholy 
 smile, M I will sing no more, since it afflicts thee ; I will no 
 longer live or breath but for thee ! " And Krespel, whilst 
 listening, felt happy. 
 
 "When he had bought the famous violin that he had placed 
 in Antonia's coffin, the young girl, seeing that he was about 
 to take this one to pieces also, looked at him sadly. 
 
 " What ! that one also ? " said she. Krespel at the same 
 time, felt within himself a voice that urged him to spare, even 
 to try this instrument. Hardly had he preluded, than his 
 daughter exclaimed, clapping her hands, 
 
 "Ah! but that is my voice, that is my voice! I still 
 sing ! " 
 
 And it was true. The pure notes of the marvellous violin 
 seemed to fall from the sky. Krespel was moved : the bow 
 under his hand created prodigies. Sometimes Antonia said 
 to him with a sweet smile, 
 
 "Father, I should like to sing." And Krespel took the 
 violin, and always drew from it delicious variations. 
 
 A short time before my second journey to H , the 
 
 counsellor thought that he heard, during a still night, the 
 harpsichord resound in the neighboring room; he thought 
 
antonia's song. 113 
 
 that lie heard the fingers of Antonia's bridegroom run rapidly 
 over the ivory keys. He tried to arise ; but an iron hand 
 seemed to restrain him. Then it seemed to him that his 
 daughter's voice murmured feebly, as in a distance : gradu- 
 ally the modulations came nearer, it was a fantastic crescendo, 
 each vibration of which pierced his heart like an arrow. 
 Suddenly a brilliant halo chased darkness from the room ; he 
 saw Antonia in the arms of her lover, who supported her. 
 Their lips touched, and yet the heavenly song continued. 
 Struck with supernatural fear, counsellor Krespel remained 
 thus, until daylight, in an indescribable state of anguish. A 
 leaden stupor paralyzed his thoughts. "When the first ray of 
 the rising sun cast its rosy tints under the curtains of his bed, 
 he arose as if from a painful dream, and hastened to Antonia's 
 chamber. She was extended on the sofa, her eyes shut, her 
 hands joined ; a sweet, but fixed smile, lingered upon her 
 pale lips. 
 
 She resembled the angel of virginity asleep. — Her soul 
 had returned to God ! 
 
 10* 
 
M 
 
 (Mi 
 
 THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 
 
 On the solitary banks of a northern lake, is still seen the 
 ruins of an old manor house which bears the name of 
 R — sitten. Arid heaths surround it on all sides. The horizon 
 is shut in one side by water, calm, deep, and with a leaden 
 color ; on the other rises a wood of pine trees, which stretch 
 out their black arms in the haze like spectres. The sky al- 
 ways in mourning, only opens to funereal birds. But at a 
 quarter of a league from this mournful landscape, the aspect 
 changes : a gay village appears suddenly in the flowery mea- 
 dows. At the end of the village a wood of alders is growing 
 greenly, not far from which is shown the first foundations of a 
 castle that one of the lords of R — sitten proposed to erect 
 in this oasis of natural planting and growth ; but the heirs of 
 this lord have forgotten this edifice already commenced, and 
 
 the baron Roderick of R , although he was resigned to 
 
 sharing with the screech-owls the patrimonial castle, had in no- 
 wise busied himself about finishing the new castle projected 
 by his ancestors. He had satisfied himself with repairing the 
 most dilapidated parts of the old castle, to shut himself up in 
 it as well as he could, with a handful of followers as taciturn 
 and uncommunicative as their master. He killed time by riding 
 here and there, on the borders of the lake ; and very rarely 
 showed himself at the village amongst his vassals, where his 
 name alone served as a bugbear to the children. In one of 
 the highest towers, Roderick had placed an observatory, fur- 
 
THE WALLED-UP BOOK. 115 * 
 
 nished with all the astronomical instruments known at that 
 time. It was there that he often passed days and nights, in 
 company with an old steward who partook of all his singular- 
 ities. There was attributed to him in the country round 
 about, very extended acquaintance with the science of magic, 
 and. some went so far as to say that he had been driven from 
 Courland for having had open relations with the evil spirit. 
 
 Roderick had a superstitious love for the lordly ruins of his 
 family ; he had the idea of entailing this property, in order to 
 give it its feudal importance. But neither Hubert, the son 
 of this Roderick, nor the actual inheritor, who bore the same 
 name as his grandfather Roderick, would follow the example 
 of their parent ; and, instead of residing with him in the 
 ruins of R — sitten, they had established themselves in 
 their domain in Courland, where life was easier and not so 
 gloomy. The baron Roderick took care of two sisters of his 
 father, wrecks of nobility, to whom he extended his hospital- 
 ity. These two ladies had to serve them only an aged female 
 servant ; all three of whom occupied a wing of the castle. The 
 kitchen occupied the basement : a kind of dilapidated pigeon 
 house served as habitation to an infirm hunter who filled the 
 office of guard. The remainder of the servants lived in the 
 village with the steward. 
 
 Every year, towards the last days of autumn, the castle 
 quitted the lugubrious silence which weighed upon it like a 
 cold shroud. The packs of dogs shook its old walls with their 
 long barkings, and the friends of baron Roderick joyously cele- 
 brated the hunting parties of their host, who gave them an 
 opportunity of capturing a large quantity of wolves and wild 
 boars. These celebrations lasted for six weeks, durino- which 
 the castle resembled a hotel open to every comer. For the 
 rest, the baron Roderick nerer neglected his paramount duties. 
 He administered justice to the vassals, aided in this part of 
 his attributes by lawyer V . 
 
 His family had exercised, from father to son, and from time 
 almost immemorial, the jurisdiction of R — sitten. In the 
 
116 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 year 179-, the worthy advocate, whose silvered head counted 
 more than sixty winters, said to me one day with a good 
 natured smile on his face : 
 
 " Cousin/' (I was his grand nephew, but he always called 
 me cousin, on account of the similarity of our baptismal 
 names,) " cousin, I have a desire to take thee to R — sit- 
 ten. The north wind, the cold breezes from the water and 
 the first frosts will give to thy organs a little of that vigor 
 which would make thy health firmer. Thou wilt render me, 
 there, more than one service in copying law papers, which 
 accumulate every year more and more ; and thou wilt learn, 
 for thy personal gratification, the trade of a free huntsman.' ' 
 
 Grod knows how joyous the proposition of my uncle made 
 me ! On the morrow we were rolling in a good coach, warmly 
 equipped with ample furs, through a country which became at 
 every step wilder, as we advanced towards the north, through 
 great quantities of snow and interminable forests of pine. On 
 the road, my great uncle related to me anecdotes of the life 
 of baron Roderick, (the owner of the castle.) He told me 
 with picturesque illustrations the habits and adventures of the 
 old lord of R — sitten; and he complained at seeing that 
 a taste for this savage life was forestalling all the thoughts of 
 his actual successor, a young man, who until that time had 
 shown himself to be good humored and in delicate health. 
 For the rest, he recommended me to take my ease at the 
 castle. He ended by describing the lodging that I should 
 inhabit with him, which joined on one side the old audience 
 hall of the lord of the castle, and on the other the habitation 
 of the two ladies of whom I have already spoken. We ar- 
 rived thus, in the middle of the night, on the territory of 
 R — sitten. 
 
 There was a celebration at the village. The steward's 
 house, illuminated from top to bottom, resounded to the music 
 of dances, and the only tavern in the place was filled with 
 gay guests. We soon found ourselves again on the road, 
 already nearly impassable and covered with snow. The north 
 
^ THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 117 
 
 wind made the waters of the lake nioan and the branches of 
 the pines crack with ominous sound ; and in the midst of a 
 kind of white sea was traced in black the profile of the manor, 
 whose portcullis was down. A silence of death reigned in 
 it ; not a light escaped from its lattice-like loopholes. 
 
 " Hallo ! Franz, Franz !" cried my great uncle, " Hallo ! 
 get up ! The snow freezes in falling from the sky, and a fire 
 even from hell would do us a great deal of good ! " 
 
 A watch dog answered first to this appeal ; then a little 
 movement was heard ; the reflection of a torch disturbed the 
 shadows, keys turned heavily in the locks, and the old Franz 
 saluted us with — 
 
 " Good morning, Master Justice j I give you a welcome this 
 diabolical weather ! " 
 
 Franz, accoutered with a livery in which his insignificant 
 body moved about too much at ease, made one of the most 
 comic faces on receiving us, as he was unbooted. A simple 
 civility was impressed on his wrinkled features ; but, in spite 
 of all that, his ugliness was nearly compensated for, by the 
 warmth of his welcome. 
 
 " My worthy sir," said Franz, " nothing is prepared to re- 
 ceive you ; the chambers are frozen, and the beds are not 
 furnished ; and then, the wind blows from every quarter 
 through the broken panes ; you could not stay in them, even 
 with fire !" 
 
 " How do you say, rascal," exclaimed my great uncle, 
 shaking off the hoar frost from his furs, ' * how do you say, 
 you the guardian of this barrack, and do you not watch over 
 it and repair it when needful ? So, my chamber is uninhab- 
 itable ? " 
 
 " Very nearly," replied Franz, bowing to the ground, for 
 I had just sneezed explosively. " The chamber of Mr. Justice 
 is, at the present time, heaped with rubbish. Three days 
 ago the ceiling of the audience hall fell with a violent shock." 
 
 My great uncle was about to swear like one possessed, but 
 he restrained himself suddenly, and, turning towards me and 
 tucking his ears under his foxskin cap : 
 
118 ilOFFMANN^S STRANGE STdfctfiS. 
 
 61 Cousin, " said he, " we will do as we can, and try, above 
 all, not to risk another question on account of this accursed 
 castle : otherwise it would be possible to tell us things a thou- 
 sand times more discouraging; Now then," continued he, 
 addressing himself to Franz, " can you not put in order 
 another room for us ? ' ' 
 
 " Your desires, sir, have been anticipated," replied the old 
 servant, quickly : and, walking before us to point out the 
 way, he conducted us by a little narrow stairway into a long 
 gallery, where the light of a single torch lent to the least 
 objects fantastic forms. At the end of this gallery, which 
 turned about in various directions, forming multiplied angles, 
 he led us through several damp and unfurnished rooms ; then 
 opening a door, he introduced us into a chamber where there 
 was an ample fire crackling on the hearth. This joyous sight 
 put me in a good humor ; but my great uncle stopped in the 
 middle of the room, and, throwing around him a look agitated 
 with some inquietude, said in a solemn and moving tone, 
 
 " Is this, then, the place that is to serve hereafter for recep- 
 tions?" 
 
 Franz took several steps towards the other end of the room, 
 and, by the light of the flambeau which he carried, I perceived 
 on the wall a high and broad white spot which represented 
 the dimensions of a walled-up door. In the meantime, Franz 
 hastened to prepare all that was necessary for us. The table 
 was diligently spread, and, after a comfortable supper, my 
 great uncle set about brewing a bowl of punch, the contents 
 of which was to procure for us with its last drops the reward 
 of a long and peaceable slumber. When his service was no 
 longer needed, Franz discreetly quitted us. Two wax candles 
 and the expiring fire on the hearth, made the gothic ornaments 
 of the room in which we were, dance about in a thousand 
 capricious fashions. Paintings representing hunting and war- 
 like scenes were suspended on the walls, and the vacillating 
 fire seemed to cause the personages in these paintings to move, 
 I remarked family portraits, the size of life, and which pre* 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 119 
 
 served, doubtlessly, the features of the most notable members 
 of the feudal line of E — sitten. The old leather covered 
 coffers, standing against the wainscotting, blackened by time, 
 brought out with more character the white spot, the sight of 
 which had first struck me. I supposed that it was simply on 
 account of there having been formerly a communicating door, 
 since walled up, without the workmen having taken care to 
 hide the mason work with a coating of paint to correspond 
 with the other decorations of the room. For the rest, my 
 imagination was occupied much more with all kinds of dreams 
 than with the least reality. I peopled the castle with super- 
 natural apparitions, which I gradually became afraid of my- 
 self. Finally the chance or the occasion operated so, that I 
 found in my pocket a book, from which the young people of 
 that time were inseparable ; it was the Visionary, by Schiller. 
 This reading destroyed the activity of my imagination. I 
 was plunged into a kind of half hallucination, produced by 
 the scene which passed before my eyes, when light, but well 
 timed footsteps, seemed to me to traverse the room. I lis- 
 tened : a dull groan is heard, stops, then re-commences ; I 
 think that I hear scratching behind the white spot which 
 represents the walled-up door. There is no longer any doubt, 
 it is some poor animal that has been shut in there. I go and 
 strike my foot on the floor, and the noise will cease, or the 
 captive animal will utter some cry. But. oh terror ! the scratch- 
 in or is continued with a kind of savao;eness ; but no other 
 sign of life is given ; my blood is already freezing in my 
 veins ; the most incoherent ideas assail me, and behold me 
 nailed to my chair, without daring to make a movement, when 
 at last, the mysterious claw ceases to scratch, and the footsteps 
 commence again. I rise as if moved by a spring, I advance 
 towards the end of the room, hardly lighted by an expiring 
 torch ; suddenly a current of cold air is felt on my cheeks, 
 and at the same time the moon, piercing a cloud, lights up, 
 with a trembling reflection, a full length portrait of a man 
 with a very repulsive countenance ; then voices, which have 
 
1-0 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 nothing of earth in them, murmur around me these words, 
 resembling sobs : 
 
 " Go no farther, thou wilt fall into the abyss of the invisi- 
 ble world ! " 
 
 Then the noise of a door which is violently shut, makes the 
 apartment in which I am tremble ; I hear distinctly some one 
 running in the gallery ; then the steps of a horse resound on 
 the paving of the court ; the portcullis is raised, and some 
 one goes out, then re-enters almost immediately. Is all this 
 reality, or is it nothing but a dream of my mind in its deliri- 
 um ? Whilst I am wrestling with my doubts, I hear my 
 great uncle sighing in the neighboring chamber. Is he awake ? 
 I take my light and enter ; he is struggling with the anguish 
 of a cruel dream. I seize his hand, I awake him ; he utters 
 a stifled cry, but immediately recognizing me, 
 
 " Thanks, cousin," said he, " I had a bad dream on ac- 
 count of this lodging, and certain old things which I have seen 
 take place in it. But, enough ! it is better to go to sleep 
 again, and not think longer about it." 
 
 With these words, he wrapped himself up in his covering, 
 drew the sheet over his face, and appeared to go to sleep. But, 
 when I had extinguished the fire and retired to my little bed, 
 I heard the worthy great uncle say his prayers in a murmur, 
 and mechanically I did the same. 
 
 On the morrow, at an early hour, we commenced our oper- 
 ations. Towards noon, my great uncle w^ent with inc to pay 
 a visit to the ladies, to whom Franz was sent to announce us. 
 After a long attendance, an old hump-backed female servant, 
 dressed in a silk dress, dead leaf color, came to introduce us. 
 The two ladies of the castle, dressed in the ancient style, 
 looked to me like two puppets ; they stared at me in such a 
 manner, that I should have laughed in their faces, if my great 
 uncle had not hastened to say, in his customary joyful manner, 
 that I was a relation of his, a young law student, come to aid 
 him at B — sit ten. The faces of these two antique fem- 
 inines lengthened in such a manner, as to prove that they had 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 121 
 
 little confidence in the success of my first appearance. This 
 whole visit nauseated me. Wholly under the impression of 
 the incidents that had agitated me the night before, I was 
 (one could not be more so) disposed to see witches under the 
 finery with which these two ladies of R — sitten were spangled 
 like church banners. 
 
 Then strange faces, their little eyes bordered with a bloody 
 red, their pointed noses, and their nasal accents, could only 
 legitimately belong to people from the other world. 
 
 The evening of this first day, as I was with my great uncle 
 seated in our chamber, my feet on the fender, and my chin 
 reclining on my breast, 
 
 " What the devil has bewitched thee since yesterday?" 
 exclaimed the excellent counsellor. " Thou dost neither eat 
 nor drink, and thou look'st like a grave digger." 
 
 I thought that it was my duty not to hide from my great 
 uncle what caused my uneasiness. Whilst listening to me 
 he became very serious. 
 
 " That is very strange," exclaimed he, " I saw in a dream 
 all that thou hast just told me. I saw a hideous phantom 
 enter the room, drag himself to the walled-up door, and 
 scratch at that door with such fury, that its fingers were all 
 torn and bleeding ; then it descended, took a horse from the 
 stable and put him back again immediately. It was at this 
 time you awoke me, and that, come to myself, I surmounted 
 the secret horror which always springs from the least commu- 
 nication with the invisible world. ' ' 
 
 I dared not question the old gentleman. He perceived it. 
 
 " Cousin," said he to me, u hast thou the courage to wait 
 with me, with open eyes, the next visit of the phantom? " 
 
 I accepted resolutely this proposition. 
 ' ' Very well, then, to-night, ' ' continued he ; * ' I have confidence 
 in the pious motive which leads me to wrestle with the evil ge- 
 nius of this castle. Whatever may be the result of my project, I 
 wish that you may be present at all that may happen, in order 
 to be able to bear witness to it. I hope, with God's aid, to 
 11 
 
122 HOFFMANN f S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 break the charm which banishef from this domain the heif& 
 of R — sitten. Brit, if I fail in my enterprise, I shall at 
 least have sacrificed myself to the holiest of catises. As for 
 thee, cotisin, thou wilt be present, but no peril menaces thee. 
 The evil spirit has no power over thee. 
 
 Franz served us, as the night before, with an excellent 
 supper and a bowl of punch ; then he returned. When we 
 were alone, the full moon was shining with a most brilliant 
 light ; the north wind whistled through the forest trees, and 
 every minute the glass creaked as it moved in the leaden 
 sashes. My great uncle had placed his repeater on the table. 
 It struck twelve. Then the door opened with a crash, and 
 the steps that I had heard the night before commenced again to 
 draw themselves along the floor. My great uncle turned pale, 
 but he rose without faltering, and turned towards the direction 
 from which the noise proceeded, the left arm leaning on his 
 hip, and the right hand extended, in an heroic attitude. Sobs 
 mingled with the noise of the steps, then was heard the forci- 
 ble scratching against the walled-up door. Then my great 
 uncle advanced towards it, and cried out in a loud voice : 
 
 1 4 Daniel ! Daniel ! what- doest thou here at this hour ? ' ' 
 
 A lamentable cry answered to these words, and was fol- 
 lowed by the noise of a heavy fall. " Ask pardon, at the 
 foot of God's throne," continued my great uncle, in a more 
 and more animated tone of voice : * ' and if God does not 
 pardon thee, go away from this castle, where there is no longer 
 a place for thee ! " 
 
 It seemed to me that a long groan lost itself outside amid 
 the growling of the storm ; my great-uncle came back slowly 
 to his arm chair. He had an inspired look ; his eyes spark- 
 led like stars ; he seated himself again before the fire, and 
 his hands were joined, his eyes turned toward heaven; he ap- 
 peared to pray. 
 
 After some. moments of silence: "Well, cousin, " said he 
 to me, "what thinkest thou of all that?" 
 
 Seized with fear and respect, I kneeled before the old man, 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 12S 
 
 and covered his hands with tears. But he took ine in his 
 arms, pressed me closely to his heart and added, 
 
 1 ■ Let us go to rest now ; calm is hereafter established near 
 us." 
 
 In effect, nothing more troubled my dreams, and the fol- 
 lowing days I succeeded in making myself merry freely, and 
 more than once, at the expense of the old baronesses, who in 
 spite of their ridiculous appearance were none the less good 
 creatures- 
 
 A short time after our installation, the baron Boderick 
 himself arrived at the castle with his wife and equipages, for 
 the hunting season. The invited guests hastened to the 
 castle from every quarter, whieh took a festive appearance 
 very different from that which it had during the remainder of 
 the year. When the baron came to see us he appeared very 
 much dissatisfied with the change of lodging that lawyer 
 
 V had been obliged to submit to. On looking at the 
 
 walled-up door, his look became gloomy, and he passed his 
 hand over his forehead, as if to drive away a painful remem- 
 brance. He rudely scolded poor Franz for having chosen for 
 us so dilapidated a domicil, and begged my great uncle to 
 order whatever he wanted without stint, and to use every 
 thing in the castle as if it were his own property. I remarked 
 that the proceedings of the baron with the lawyer were not 
 only very polite, but theie was mixed with them a kind of 
 filial respect, which might lead to the supposition that there 
 existed between them more intimate relations than was mani- 
 fested to the eyes of the world. As for myself, I was in 
 no wise comprehended in the marks of eordiality. The baron 
 affected towards me from day to day haughtier manners, and 
 without the protecting intervention of my great uncle, our 
 antipathy would have led to some bitter scene, or even to 
 violence. 
 
 The wife of baron Eoderick of R — sitten, had produced 
 on me, at first sight, an impression that contributed not a 
 little towards making me support with patience the rudeness 
 
124 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 of the master of the castle. Seraphine offered a delicious 
 contrast by the side of her aged relatives, at whom I was 
 tired of looking. Her beauty, enhanced by all the seductions 
 of youth, had a stamp of surprising ideality. She appeared 
 to me like an angel of light, more capable than all possible 
 exorcisms to drive away forever all the evil spirits that haunted 
 the castle. The first time that this adorable person addressed 
 me, to ask how I amused myself in the mournful solitude of 
 R, — sitten, I was so struck with the charm of her voice and 
 the celestial melancholy that dreamed in her eyes, that I could 
 only answer her in monosyllables without connection, which 
 must have made me appear to her eyes as the most timid or 
 the most foolish of youths. The old aunts of the baroness, 
 judging me of very little consequence, undertook to recom- 
 mend me to the kindness of the young lady with looks so full of 
 pride, that I could not refrain from paying them a few compliments 
 that touched very nearly upon sarcasm. From that moment, in 
 place of the pain that my position towards the baroness made 
 me feel, I became aware that a burning passion animated my 
 heart; and, however I might have been persuaded of the 
 madness of such a sentiment, it was impossible for me to 
 resist it; this became soon a kind of delirium, and during 
 my long day dreams, I called to Seraphine with transports of 
 despair. One fine night, my great uncle, suddenly awakened 
 by my extravagant monologue, cried out to me from his bed, 
 
 " Cousin, cousin, are you losing your common sense ? Be 
 in love the whole day long, if that pleases thee ; but there is 
 a time for all things, and the night was made to sleep in ! " 
 
 I trembled for fear that my uncle had heard the name of 
 Seraphine escape from my lips, and that he would lecture 
 me ; but his conduct in this circumstance was filled with 
 reserve and discretion ; for the following day, as we were en- 
 tering the hall, where every body had met for judicial trial, 
 he said in a loud voice, 
 
 " May it please Grod that each one here knows how to watch 
 over himself prudently ! " 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 125 
 
 Then as I was taking my place at the desk by his side, he 
 leaned towards me to add, 
 
 " Cousin, try to write without trembling, in order that I 
 may be -able to decipher, without wearing my eyes, thy judicial 
 scribbling." 
 
 The place of my great uncle at the table, was every day 
 on the right of the beautiful baroness, and this favor made 
 many jealous. I slid myself in here and there according to 
 occurrences, among the other guests, who were composed 
 frequently of officers of the neighboring garrison, with whom 
 it was necessary to keep pace in drinking and talking, One 
 day chance carried me near Seraphine, from whom I had been 
 kept at a great distance. I had just offered my arm to her 
 lady companion to go into the dining room : and when we 
 turned around to salute each other, I noticed with a tremor 
 that I was quite near the baroness. A sweet look welcomed 
 me to my seat ; and whilst the repast lasted, instead of eat- 
 ing, I did nothing but sustain a conversation with her lady 
 companion, in which all that I found to say, tenderly and 
 delicately, was addressed directly to the baroness, from whom 
 I did not remove my eyes. After supper, Seraphine, in 
 doing the honors of the hostess, approached towards me, and 
 asked me graciously, as at first, if I amused myself at the 
 castle. I answered as well as I could, that at first, this wild 
 domain had offered me a pretty painful residence, but that, 
 since the arrival of the baron, this sad aspect had changed 
 very much, and that if I had a wish to express, it would be 
 only that I might be excused from following the chase, 
 
 " But," said the baroness, " have I not heard that you 
 were a musician, and that you composed verses ? I love the 
 art passionately, and I play pretty well on the harp ; but that 
 is a pleasure of which I must deprive myself here, for my 
 husband detests music." 
 
 I hastened to reply, that the baroness could easily procure 
 for herself, during the long hunts of her husband, the pleasure 
 of making a little music. It must be impossible that there 
 11* 
 
126 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 could not be found amongst the furniture of the castle some 
 harpsichord. Miss Adelheid, the lady companion, in vain 
 cried out and swore that, in the memory of man, nothing had 
 been heard of at R — sitten, but the notes of the horn 
 and the howling of packs. I was strong for succeeding in 
 my project, when we saw Franz passing by. 
 
 " Truly," exclaimed Miss Adelheid, "he is the only man 
 I know that is capable of giving good advice in the most em- 
 barrassing cases ; and I defy you to make him pronounce the 
 word impossible" 
 
 We called Franz. The good man, after turning his hat in 
 his hands for some time, ended by remembering that the wife 
 of the steward, who lived in the neighboring village, possessed 
 a harpsichord, on which she formerly accompanied her singing 
 with so pathetic an accent, that in listening to her every one 
 wept, as if they had rubbed their eyes with onion peels. 
 
 "A harpsichord ! we will have a harpsichord," exclaimed 
 Miss Adelheid. 
 
 " Yes," said Franz, " but a little misfortune has happened 
 to it ; the organist of the village, having wished to try on it 
 the air of a hymn of his own invention, dislocated the machine 
 whilst playing." 
 
 " What a misfortune ! " exclaimed the baroness and Adel- 
 heid, both at once. 
 
 " So that," continued Franz, " it has been necessary to 
 carry the harpsichord to the neighboring city, to have it re- 
 paired." 
 
 " But has it been brought back ? " interrupted Miss Adel- 
 heid, quickly. 
 
 " I do not doubt it, my gracious young lady," replied 
 Franz, " and the steward's wife would be very much honored r 
 very much pleased " 
 
 At this moment the baron appeared, stopped before our 
 group, and passed on, saying to his wife : — " Well, dear 
 friend, old Franz is he still the man to give good advice ?" 
 
 The baroness was speechless ; Franz was immovable, his 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 127 
 
 arms hanging down by his sides. The old aunts came and 
 led off Seraphine. Miss Adelheid followed them. As for 
 me, I remained for a long time in the same spot, thinking of 
 the good fortune which had procured for me so sweet an in- 
 terview, and cursing baron Roderick, who appeared to me 
 nothing but a brutal tyrant, unworthy of possessing this ad- 
 mirable woman. I believe that I should be still standing, 
 had it not been for my great uncle, who was seeking me, and 
 touched me on the shoulder, saying, in his friendly manner, 
 
 " Cousin, don't show thyself so assiduous towards the bar- 
 oness ; leave this dangerous trade of sighing to be followed 
 by madcaps who have nothing else to do." 
 
 I went into a long discourse to prove to my great uncle 
 that I had allowed nothing to myself but what was admissable ; 
 but he shrugged his shoulders, went and put on his dressing 
 gown, filled his pipe, and commenced talking about the hunt 
 of the previous day. 
 
 That evening, there was a ball at the castle. Miss Adelheid had 
 retained a whole orchestra of travelling musicians. My great 
 uncle, very fond of his rest, had retired to his bed at his ac- 
 customed hour. My youth and my love made me worship 
 this opportunity of an unexpected ball. I had finished my 
 toilet, when Franz came and knocked at my door, to announce 
 to me that the harpsichord had arrived on a sledge, and 
 that the baroness had immediately ordered it to be placed in 
 her room, where she was waiting for me with her lady com- 
 panion. Judge of the joyful surprise which pervaded all my 
 senses. I was drunk with love and desire ; I hastened to 
 Seraphine 's room. Miss Adelheid was beside herself with 
 joy ; but the baroness, already dressed for the ball, was stand- 
 ing, in silence and in a melancholy attitude, near the case in 
 which were reposing the notes that, in my quality of musician 
 and poet, I was called to awaken. 
 
 " Theodore," said she to me, calling me by my baptismal 
 name, according to the custom in the North, " Theodore, 
 here is the instrument that we expected : Grod will that you 
 keep your promise well," 
 
128 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 I approached towards it immediately; but hardly had I 
 taken off the cover of the harpsichord, when several strings 
 broke with violence ; those which remained were of such bad 
 quality that their sounds produced a discord sufficient to an- 
 noy the strongest ears. 
 
 " It is without doubt that the organist wishes to try again," 
 exclaimed Miss Adelheid, with a joyous burst of laughter. 
 But Seraphine was no longer disposed to be gay. 
 
 " Fatality ! " said she in a low voice : " I can never have 
 any pleasure here." 
 
 On examining the box of the harpsichord, I luckily found 
 in it another sett of strings. " We are saved ! " exclaimed 
 I immediately. " Patience and courage aid me ! the damage 
 will soon be repaired." The baroness took hold and helped 
 me with her pretty fingers, whilst Adelheid unrolled the 
 strings, as I called them by the numbers on the key-board. 
 
 After twenty unsuccessful trials, our perseverance was 
 crowned with a full success ; harmony is established again, as 
 if by enchantment. A little more labor, and the instrument is 
 in tune ! This zeal, this love of art that we had exercised in 
 common, had made the distance that existed between us dis- 
 appear. The beautiful baroness shared innocently with me 
 the happiness of a success which promised to her pleasant dis- 
 tractions. The harpsichord had become a kind of electric 
 bond between us ; my timidity, my awkwardness disappeared ; 
 nothing remained but love, love which swallowed up my whole 
 existence. I preluded on this dear instrument those tender 
 symphonies, which paint with so much poetry the passions of 
 the meridian countries. Seraphine, standing before me, lis- 
 tened to me with her whole soul ; I saw her eyes sparkle, I 
 breathed the shudderings which agitated her bosom ; I felt 
 her breath flying around me like the kiss of an angel, and 
 my whole soul flew towards the skies ! Suddenly her physi- 
 ognomy appeared to become inflamed, her lips murmured, in 
 cadence, sounds long since lost to her memory; a few escaped 
 notes placed my fingers, without study or effort, on a known 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 129 
 
 melody,- and the voice of Seraphine broke out like a crystal 
 bell. 
 
 It was a luxury of divine poetry ; an ocean of harmony, in 
 which my heart was lost in crying to God to call us to him- 
 self. When I came out of this ecstacy — 
 
 " Thanks," said Seraphine, " thanks for this hour which I 
 owe you, and which I shall never forget." 
 
 With these words she held out her hand towards me ; I 
 fell on my knees to kiss it. It seemed to that me under my lips 
 her nerves had trembled. Meanwhile the ball called us, the 
 baroness had disappeared. I do not know how I found my- 
 self again in my great uncle's room ; but that evening he 
 said to me in a severe tone, that he was not ignorant of my 
 interview with the baroness. 
 
 " But take care," added he, " take care, cousin, thou art 
 running on thin ice which hides an abyss without bottom. 
 May the devil take music, if it is only to serve to make thee 
 commit folly, by troubling the peace of a young and romantic 
 woman. Take care of thyself; none are so near death as a 
 sick man who thinks that he is well." 
 
 " But my uncle, ""'said I, with the intention of justifying 
 rrryself, ' ' do you think me capable of seeking to take the heart 
 of the baroness by surprise ? ' ' 
 
 " Monkey that thou art," exclaimed my great uncle, 
 stamping with his foot: " if I believed it for a minute, I 
 would throw you out of the window ! ' ' 
 
 The arrival of the baron cut short this conversation, and 
 for a long time the labor of justice did not leave me leisure 
 to return to Seraphine. Meanwhile our intimacy was gradu- 
 ally renewed. Miss Adelheid was often charged with a secret 
 message to me from her mistress, and we occupied the frequent 
 absence of the baron in meetings around the harpsichord. 
 The presence of the lady companion, whose character was 
 trifling enough, prevented us from the least wandering towards 
 sentiment. But I recognized, by certain signs, that Sera- 
 phine carried in her heart a fund of sadness that was slowly 
 
130 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 undermining her life. One day she did not appear at dinner. 
 The guests hastened to enquire of the baron if the sufferings 
 of his wife caused him any serious uneasiness. 
 
 " Oh, in no wise ! " answered the baron. " The piercing 
 air of this country, joined to a cold which might be produced 
 by an abuse of music, has caused this passing illness." 
 
 Whilst saying this, the baron threw a side glance towards 
 me, which signified much. Adelheid understood enough of 
 it to cause her to blush. She did not raise her eyes, but for me 
 her looks appeared to say, that for the future, it would be 
 necessary to make use of some precaution, in order not to 
 excite the jealousy of the baron, from whom we might expect 
 some evil design. A great anxiety took possession of my 
 mind ; I did not know what course to take ; the threatening 
 look that the baron sullenly took, irritated me so much the 
 more, for the reason that I had nothing to reproach myself 
 with ; but I feared to expose Seraphine to undergo his 
 anger. 
 
 Ought I to quit the castle ? — But to renounce the society of 
 Seraphine, seemed to me a sacrifice beyond my strength. I 
 learned that the whole company were going to the hunt after 
 dinner. I announced to my great uncle my intention of join- 
 ing them. 
 
 " Very good," said the old man to me; u that is an exer- 
 cise proper for thee, and I immediately bequeath to thee my 
 carbine and hunting knife." 
 
 We started ; we were placed at a short distance from each 
 other in the neighboring forest, to surround the wolves. The 
 snow fell very fast, and when the day was declining, there 
 came a fog that hid all objects at six paces distance. The 
 cold overcame me ; and I sought for shelter in a hedge, and, 
 after leaning my gun against a pine tree, I commenced dream- 
 ing of Seraphine. 
 
 Soon reports of guns followed each other from distance to 
 distance : and, at ten feet from the place where I had taken 
 shelter, an enormous wolf presented itself. I took aim at him, 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 131 
 
 and fired ; I missed him ; he sprang upon me, hut my pres- 
 ence of mind did not abandon me ; I received the furious ani- 
 mal on the point of my hunting knife, and he plunged it into 
 himself up to the hilt. One of the foresters ran towards me 
 on hearing the noise of his howling ; the huntsmen gathered 
 around us, and the baron sprang towards me. 
 
 " You are wounded ? " said he. 
 
 ' 4 No sir, ' ' answered I ; " my hand was surer than my 
 aim." 
 
 It would be difficult to tell all the encomiums that were 
 lavished upon me for this exploit. The baron insisted upon 
 my leaning on his arm, to return to the castle. A forester 
 carried my gun. These attentions, granted to me by the 
 lord of R — sitten, touched me deeply. I judged of him from 
 that time quite differently. He seemed to me to be a man of 
 energy and courage. But at the same time I thought of 
 Seraphine ; I felt that the distance between us was growing less. 
 I conceived the boldest hopes. But when, in the evening, 
 swelled with pride, I related my adventure to my great uncle, 
 he laughed in my face, saying, 
 
 " God shows his power by the hands of the weak." 
 
 The hour of repose had long since sounded, when, passing 
 along the gallery to go to my bed, I met a white figure, that 
 carried a night lamp. 
 
 It was Adelheid : — ;< Good evening," said she, laughing; 
 <; beautiful wolf-hunter ! why do you run thus without a light, 
 all alone, like a real spectre?" 
 
 At this word spectre, I trembled from head to foot, and I 
 recalled the two first nights of my stay at the castle. Adel- 
 heid perceived the sudden emotion that agitated me. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed she, taking my hand, " what is the 
 matter with you ? you are cold as marble ; come, let me give 
 you life and health. The baroness is waiting for you, she is 
 dying of impatience." 
 
 I allowed myself to be led away without resistance, but 
 without joy ; I was under the empire of a fatal pre-occupation. 
 
132 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 The baroness, on seeing us enter, took several steps towards 
 me, uttering an exclamation which she did not finish, for she 
 stopped suddenly, as if struck with an after-thought. I took 
 her hand and kissed it ; she did not withdraw it, but she said 
 to me : 
 
 " Theodore, why did you go to the hunt ? The hand that 
 creates such sweet accords, is it made to handle amis and 
 commit murder ? ' ' 
 
 The sound of this adorable voice penetrated to my very 
 soul ; a veil extended itself over my sight, and I do not know 
 how it happened, that instead of going to my seat at the harpsi- 
 chord, I found myself on the sofa, talking with Seraphine of 
 my singular hunting adventure. When I had told her the 
 conduct of her husband, which contrasted strongly with his 
 accustomed stiffness, she interrupted me, saying in her most 
 affectionate voice, 
 
 " Do you not see, Theodore, that you are not yet acquaint- 
 ed with the baron ? it is only here that his character shows 
 itself so hard. Every time he comes here, a fixed idea pur- 
 sues him ; it is that this castle is going to become the theatre 
 of some terrible calamity to our family and to his peace. He 
 is convinced that an invisible enemy exercises in this domain 
 a power, which sooner or later will commit an immense crime. 
 They relate strange things of the founder of this entail, and 
 I know myself that the castle holds a family secret ; it is a 
 tradition frightfully true, that a phantom comes here often to 
 assail the proprietor, and does not permit him to make in this 
 enclosure but a very limited residence. Every time that I 
 come here with my husband, I feel almost continual terror, 
 and it is only to your art, dear Theodore, *that I am indebted 
 for a little consolation. So that I cannot manifest to you too 
 much gratitude." 
 
 Encouraged by this exchange of confidence, I related to 
 Seraphine my own apprehensions. But as I hid from her 
 the most frightful details, I saw her face become mortally 
 pale, and I understood that it was better to reveal all to her, 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOK. 133 
 
 than to leave her imagination to exalt itself beyond measure. 
 When I began to speak of this mysterious claw which 
 scratched the walled-up door, 
 
 " Yes, yes," exclaimed Seraphine, " it is in that wall that 
 is shut up the fatal mystery." 
 
 . And hiding her beautiful face in her hands, she fell into a 
 profound meditation. It was only then that I observed that 
 Adelheid had left us. I spoke no longer, and Seraphine was 
 still silent. I made an effort to rise and go to the harpsichord. 
 A few accords that I drew from it awoke the baroness from 
 her inactivity ; she listened quietly to an air as sad as our 
 souls, her eyes filled with tears. I kneeled before her, she 
 leaned towards me, and our lips united in a celestial kiss ; 
 then she disengaged herself from my embrace, arose, and, 
 when she reached the door of the room, she turned round 
 and said to me, 
 
 " Dear Theodore, your uncle is a worthy man, who seems 
 to be the protector of this house ; tell him, I pray you, to 
 pray for us every day, in order that it may please God to 
 preserve us from all evil." 
 
 At these words, the lady companion re-entered. I could 
 not answer Seraphine ; I was too much moved to speak to 
 her without forgetting the restraint which was imposed upon 
 us. The baroness held out her hand to me. 
 
 " Good by," said she, " good by, dear Theodore ; I shall 
 long remember this evening." 
 
 When I went back to my great uncle's room, I found him 
 asleep. My eyes were filled with tears ; the love that I had 
 for Seraphine pressed upon my heart with a painful heaviness ; 
 my sobs soon became so hurried and strong that the justice 
 awoke. 
 
 11 Cousin," exclaimed he, " do you wish decidedly to be- 
 come mad ? Do me the kindness to go to bed immediately ! " 
 This prosy apostrophe brought me back disagreeably to real 
 life ; but I had to obey. A few moments had hardly elapsed, 
 when I heard coming and going, the doors opening and shut- 
 
 M.JU 
 
131 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 ting, and then steps in the gallery. They came and knocked 
 at the door of our chamber. " Who is there 1 " asked I, in 
 a loud and rude voice. 
 
 " Mr. V ," was the answer from without, " quick, get 
 
 up ! " It was the voice of old Franz. 
 
 ■ * Is the castle on fire ? ' ' said I to myself. At the word 
 fire, my great uncle, who awoke, jumped out of bed, and 
 went to open the door. 
 
 " For God's sake, make haste," replied Franz, " the baron 
 is asking for you ; the baroness is dying ! " 
 
 The poor servant was lividly pale. We had hardly lighted 
 a lamp, when the voice of the baron was heard. 
 
 " Can I speak to you immediately, my dear V V 7 
 
 said he. 
 
 " Devil !"" said my great uncle, " who asked thee to dress 
 thyself; what art thou about to do ? " 
 
 " See her once more ; tell her that I love her, and then 
 die ! " answered I in a low and broken voice. 
 
 " Oh ! undoubtedly, I ought to have guessed it," replied 
 the severe justice, shutting the door in my face, and putting 
 the key into his pocket. Delirious with anger, I tried to 
 break the lock ; but, promptly reflecting on the consequences 
 which such a scene would occasion, I resigned myself to await 
 patiently the return of my great uncle, fully decided, never- 
 theless, to escape from him at all events, as soon as he returned. 
 I heard him speaking to the baron, in the distance, with great 
 vivacity ; but I could not distinguish their words. My name 
 was mixed up with it, and my anxiety became intolerable. 
 Finally the baron went away ; it seemed to me that some one 
 had come precipitately to seek him. My great uncle came 
 back, and appeared stupified at the delirious state in which 
 he found me. " She is dead, then ! " cried I, on seeing him. 
 " I will go down, I will see her immediately, and, if you re- 
 fuse me, I will blow out my brains before your eyes ! My 
 great uncle remained unmoved, and covering me with an icy 
 look, 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 
 
 135 
 
 " Dost tliou think, then," said he, " that thy life has the 
 least value for me, if it pleases thee to stake it upon a misera- 
 ble threat ? What hast thou to do with the baron's wife ! 
 By what right wouldst thou go to place thyself in a funeral 
 chamber, from which thy ridiculous conduct excludes thee 
 more than ever ? " 
 
 I fell crushed, annihilated, into a seat. My great uncle 
 took pity on me. 
 
 " Now," continued he, " I wish you to know that the pre- 
 tended illness of the baroness was nothing but a dream. 
 Adelheid becomes distracted when there is a thunder-storm, 
 and the old aunts, attracted by the noise, are fatiguing poor 
 Seraphine with their care and their elixirs. It is nothing 
 but a fainting fit, a nervous crisis, attributed by the baron to 
 the effects of music. Now, then, since thou art, as I hope, 
 sufficiently tranquillized, I am going, with thy permission, to 
 smoke a good pipe ; for all the gold in the world I would not 
 shut my eyes again until daylight. Look thou, cousin," con- 
 tinued he, after a pause, and blowing out enormous clouds of 
 smoke, " I advise thee not to take seriously the heroic figure 
 that thou hast had put upon thee since thy adventure at the 
 wolf-hunt. A poor little devil like thee is often exposed to 
 many misunderstandings, when he has the vanity to quit his 
 own sphere. I remember that at the tune when I was at- 
 tending the university, I had for a friend a young man of a 
 character mild, peaceable, and always equal. A chance hav- 
 ing thrown him into an affair of honor, he conducted himself 
 with sueh vigor that everybody was astonished. Unfortunately 
 this success and the admiration with which he was caressed, 
 changed his character completely. From firm and serious as 
 he ought to have remained, he became a quarrelsome man 
 and a bully : briefly, one fine day he insulted a comrade for 
 the miserable pleasure of boasting ; but he was killed like a 
 fly. I only relate this story to thee to kill time ; but it might 
 be that thou wouldst have occasion to profit by it. And with 
 that, here is my pipe finished ; the sky is still covered with 
 darkness, but we shall yet have two hours to sleep." 
 
136 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 At tliis moment the voice of Franz was heard. He came 
 to bring us news of the sick lady. 
 
 " The baroness," said he, " has entirely recovered from 
 her indisposition, which she attributes to an unpleasant dream. " 
 
 At these words, I was about to utter an exclamation of 
 happiness, but a look from my great uncle closed my mouth. 
 
 " It is well;" said he to Franz, il I was only waiting to 
 hear that before taking a little repose, for at my age watch- 
 fulness is unwholesome. God preserve us until night is 
 passed ! " 
 
 Franz retired, and although the cocks were heard crowino* 
 in the neighboring village, the justice buried himself in the 
 feathers. 
 
 On the morrow, very early, I crept down to ask Adelheid 
 concerning the health of my dear Seraphine. But at the 
 entrance of the apartment I found myself face to face with 
 the baron ; his piercing look measured me with all its haughti- 
 ness. 
 
 " What do you come to seek ? " said he to me in a stifled 
 voice. I concealed my emotion as well as I could, and taking 
 courage, I announced pretty firmly, that I came from my 
 uncle to inquire the state of the baroness. 
 
 " All goes well," replied the baron, coldly; " she has had 
 a nervous attack, to which she is subject. She is now repos- 
 ing ; and I think that she will appear at table. Tell him 
 that: Go." 
 
 The expression of the baron's face in making me this 
 answer, revealed an impatience which made me judge him 
 more uneasy than he wished to appear. I saluted him and 
 was about retiring, when he took me by the arm, and said to 
 me with a look that seemed blasting to me, 
 
 " I have something to say to you, young man." 
 
 The tone with which he said these words caused me to 
 make very doubtful suppositions. I saw myself in the pres- 
 ence of an offended husband, who had guessed what was 
 passing in my heart, and who was preparing to exact a rigor- 
 
YiiE WALLED-UP DOOR. 137 
 
 ous account. I was without arms, except a little pocket-knife 
 artistically wrought, which my great uncle had presented to 
 me. I felt it in my pocket at this trying moment, and all my 
 assurance was fortified. I followed the baron, decided to sell 
 my life dearly if matters became serious. Arrived at his 
 chamber, the baron shut the door with care, walked several 
 times back and forth, and, stopping before me, with his arms 
 folded upon his breast, 
 
 " Young man," continued he, "I have something to say 
 to you." 
 
 All my energy blazed up, and my answer was as follows : 
 •" I hope, baron, that what you have to speak to me about, 
 will not require on my part any reparation." 
 
 The baron looked at me as if he had not understood ; then 
 he looked clown, and, with his hands behind him, recom- 
 menced his promenade. I saw him take the carbine and 
 sound the charge. My blood boiled under the apprehension 
 of danger, and I opened, in the bottom of my pocket, the 
 little knife, stepping nearer to the baron to prevent his taking 
 aim at me. 
 
 " Pretty arm," said the baron, and he deposited the carbine 
 in a corner. I knew not what face to put on the matter, 
 when the baron, coming back towards me, put his hand on 
 my shoulder and said, 
 
 " Theodore, I must appear very extraordinary to you this 
 morning. I am really entirely upset by the anguish of the 
 past night. The nervousness of my wife had nothing in it to 
 make me uneasy ; but there exists in this castle, I know not 
 what evil genius, which makes me look upon all things in the 
 most gloomy light ; this is the first time that the baroness has 
 been taken sick here, and you are the sole cause of it." 
 
 " Truly," said I calmly, " I cannot explain myself " 
 
 " I wish," interrupted the baron, "that the infernal harp- 
 sichord had been broken into a thousand pieces the day that 
 it was brought to my house ! But, after all, I ought to have 
 watched, from the first day, over what was passing here. My 
 12* 
 
138 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 wife is so delicately organized, that the least excess of sensa- 
 tion might cause her death. I had brought her here with the 
 hope that this rude climate, joined to the occupations of a 
 rough and strong mode of life, would produce on her a fortu- 
 nate reaction : but you have taken it upon yourself to ener- 
 vate her the more with your languishing melodies. Her ex- 
 alted imagination was predisposed and subject to any shock, 
 when you dealt her a fatal blow, in relating before her, I 
 know not what stupid ghost story. Your great uncle has 
 told me all ; so you can deny nothing ; I only wish you to 
 repeat to me yourself all that you pretend to have seen." 
 
 The turn that our conversation took, re-assured me suffi- 
 ciently, to enable me to obey the orders of the baron. He 
 only interrupted my very detailed narration by short exclama- 
 tions, which he immediately restrained. When I came to the 
 scene in which my great uncle had so powerfully conjured the 
 invisible phantom, he raised his joined hands to heaven and 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Yes, that was truly the tutelary genius of the family; 
 and when God shall call back his soul, I wish that his remains 
 may sleep with honor by the side of my ancestors ! " 
 
 Then, as I remained silent, he took my hand and added, 
 
 " Young man, it was you who caused unwittingly the ill- 
 ness of my wife ; from you must come her cure." 
 
 I felt the color come into my face at these words. The 
 baron, who was observing me, smiled at my embarrassment, 
 and continued in a tone which bordered upon irony, 
 
 "You are not called upon to attend a very sick person, 
 and this is the service that I expect from you. The baroness 
 is entirely under the influence of your music ; it would be 
 cruel to suppress it. I authorize you then, to continue it, 
 but I require you to change the style of the pieces that you 
 execute before her. Make a gradual choice of sonatas more and 
 more energetic ; mix skilfully the gay and the serious ; and 
 then, above all, speak to her often of the apparition which 
 you have related to her. She will gradually become familiar 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 139 
 
 with this idea, and will end by attaching no farther impor- 
 tance to it. You understand me well, do you not ? I count 
 on your exactness." 
 
 On finishing this species of instruction, the baron left me. 
 I remained confounded to myself, judged as a being of so 
 little consequence, that I was not even capable of awaking 
 the jealousy of a man by my attentions to the most beautiful 
 woman that it was possible to imagine. Xow my heroic 
 dream was broken, I fell to the level of the child who takes 
 seriously in his amusements his gilt paper crown for real. 
 
 My great uncle, persuaded that I had been playing some 
 trick, awaited my return with anxiety. 
 
 " From whence comest thou?" cried he, as I came in sight. 
 
 " I have just had," said I, quite disconcerted, " an inter- 
 view with the baron." 
 
 "Alas!" said the worthy justice ; "when I told thee 
 that sooner or later it would end badly " 
 
 The burst of laughter with which my great uncle accom- 
 panied this sally, proved clearly to me that on all sides I was 
 turned into ridicule. I suffered violently, but I took good 
 care not to allow it to be perceived ; had I not the future 
 open to revenge myself for the little that was granted to me ? 
 The baroness appeared at dinner, dressed in white, which color 
 accorded with the paleness of her cheeks ; her physiognomy 
 breathed a melancholy milder than ever ; I felt, at the sight of 
 her, my heart melt in my breast ; and besides, I felt against 
 Seraphine herself, in despite of her divine beaut} 7 , something of 
 the anger with which the baron had inspired me ; it seemed 
 to me that these two beings united together to mystify me ; 
 I thought I read, I know not what of ironical in the half 
 veiled look of Seraphine, and all the graciousness of her former 
 reception wounded me like an odious lie. I sought with ex- 
 treme care to keep myself as far from her as possible, and I 
 took my place between two soldiers, with whom I drank full 
 glasses, and time after time. Towards the end of the meal, a 
 servant presented me with a plate filled with sugar plums, and 
 
no 
 
 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 whispered these words in my car: " From Adelheid." I 
 took the plate, and on the largest of the sweetmeats I read 
 these words, traced on the sugared envelope, with the point of 
 a knife : " and Seraphine ! " An ardent flame immediately 
 circulated in my veins. I threw a fugitive look at Adelheid ; 
 she made a siga to me which seemed to say : 
 
 " Drinker, you forget nothing hut the health of Sera- 
 phine ? " 
 
 I immediately carried my glass to my lips ; I emptied it at 
 a single draught, and, on replacing it on the table, I per- 
 ceived that the beautiful baroness had done the same ; we had 
 drank at the same instant; and, when our glasses touched the 
 table, our eyes met ! A cloud passed over my eyes, and the 
 remorse of my ingratitude wounded my heart. Seraphine loves 
 me ; I have no longer any right to doubt ; my happiness will 
 become madness. But one of the guests arose, and, accord- 
 ing to the custom of the North, proposed to drink to the 
 health of the mistress of the castle. I know not how much 
 spite, at finding myself anticipated, disturbed my brain : I 
 take my glass, I raise it ; I remain immovable ; it seemed 
 to me in this moment of fascination, that I was about to fall 
 at the feet of my mistress. 
 
 " Well ! what are you doing, my dear friend ? " said my 
 nearest neighbor. 
 
 This single word broke the charm ; my eyes were opened — 
 but Seraphine had disappeared. 
 
 After the repast, my intoxication became so insupportable, 
 that I had to go out of the castle, in spite of the hurricane 
 which was blowing, and the snow which was falling thickly, 
 I took to running through the furze, along the borders of the 
 lake, crying out with all my force : — " See how the devil 
 makes the foolish child dance, who wished to pluck the for- 
 bidden fruit in the garden of love ! " 
 
 And I ran, I ran until I lost my breath ; and Grod knows 
 how far I should have gone in this way, if I had not heard 
 my name called out in the woods by a known voice, that of 
 the master forester of R — sitten. 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 141 
 
 " Hallo! my clear Theodore, " exclaimed this honest man, 
 " where the devil do you come from to wet your feet in the 
 snow, at the risk of catching a fatal cold ? I have been look- 
 ing for you everywhere, for the justice has been waiting for 
 you at the castle two long hours." 
 
 Recalled to the track of common sense by the remembrance 
 of my great uncle, I followed, a little mechanically, the guide 
 who had been sent to seek me. 
 
 On arriving, I found him gravely attending to his duties, 
 in the audience hall. I counted on receiving a lecture ; but 
 the good man was very indulgent. 
 
 " Cousin," said he to me, smilingly, " thou didst well to go 
 out and cool thyself to-day,but be more reasonable for the future ; 
 thou art not of an age to permit thyself those Little excesses." 
 
 As I did not answer a word, and as, like a scholar caught 
 in fault, I feigned an anxiety to set myself to work — 
 
 "Tell me then, in full," continued my great uncle, " what 
 passed between the baron and thee." 
 
 I confessed all, without restriction. 
 
 " Very well," interrupted my great uncle, when he had 
 heard enough of it; " the baron confided to thee a famous 
 mission ! Luckily for him we go away to-morrow." 
 
 At these words I thought that I should fall. But on the 
 morrow the great uncle kept his word, and since then I have 
 never seen Seraphine. 
 
 A few days after our return, the respectable justice was 
 assailed by extremely violent attacks of the gout. His tem- 
 per, on account of the sufferings that he endured, became sud- 
 denly morose and bitter ; in spite of my care and the aid of 
 medicine, the disease only grew worse. 
 
 One morning I was called to him in great haste ; a crisis 
 more painful than the others, nearly killed him ; I found him 
 lying on his bed ; his hand held a crumpled letter, which he 
 tightly pressed. I recognized the hand- writing of the ste- 
 ward of E. — sitten ; but my sorrow was so great that no curi- 
 osity was awakened in my mind ; I trembled constantly, for 
 
142 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 fear that I should see this dear old relation expire, whose true 
 affection for myself I was well acquainted with. Finally, 
 after many hours of anguish, life gained the ascendant, the 
 pulse commenced to beat, and the robust organization of the 
 old man tired out the attacks of death. Gradually the dan- 
 ger disappeared; but he remained many months confined, 
 without hardly moving, on his suffering bed. His health was so 
 destroyed by this shaking, that it was necessary for him to 
 retire from the practice of the law. There w r as no longer 
 any hope of my return to It — sitten. The poor sick man 
 eould bear with no other care than mine, and, when his pain 
 left him a moment of respite, all his consolation was to talk 
 with me, but he never spoke of our stay at B, — sitten, and I 
 dared not myself recall it to his remembrance. When, by 
 force of devotion and assiduous watching, I succeeded in 
 restoring my great uncle to comparative health, the remem- 
 brance of Seraphine awoke in my heart, surrounded by a 
 more powerful charm than ever. One day that I opened by 
 chance, a portfolio, which I had used during my stay at 
 R — sitten, something white fell from it. It was a silk ribbon 
 that tied together a lock of Seraphine 's hair. On examining 
 this token of remembrance, given by secret love, that fate 
 had crushed at its birth, I noticed a reddish spot on the rib- 
 bon. Was it blood ? and this blood, was it a prognostic of 
 some tragical event ? My imagination abandoned itself to 
 the most fatal suppositions, without having any means to verify 
 its fears or putting a stop to them. 
 
 Meanwhile, my great uncle gradually regained his strength 
 with the fine weather. During a mild evening, I had taken 
 him to walk under the odorous lindens in our garden. He 
 was in a joyous humor. 
 
 " Cousin," said he, "I feel myself exceedingly strong; 
 but I do not deceive myself concerning the future ; this re- 
 turn to health resembles the last vivid flashes of a lamp on 
 the eve of going out. But, before going to sleep the last 
 slumber, whose approach I feel with the calmness of a just 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 143 
 
 man, I have to acquit myself of a debt towards thee. Dost 
 thou remember our stay at R — sitten ? " 
 
 This unexpected question threw me into inexpressible con* 
 fusion. The old man perceived it, and continued without 
 giving me time to seek for an answer. 
 
 " Cousin," said he, " thou wouldst have given thyself up 
 without my aid, to a passion which might have plunged thee 
 into an abyss of misfortune, if I had not withdrawn thee from 
 R — sitten. There exists, concerning the master of that 
 castle, a mysterious story, with which thy imprudence was 
 near mixing thee. Now that the danger is past, listen to me; 
 I wish, before death separates us, to reveal to thee strange 
 facts. Perhaps thou wilt find, some day, occasion to profit 
 by it." 
 
 And here is what the great uncle related to me, speaking 
 of himself in the third person. 
 
 During a stormy night of 17 6-, the inhabitants of the 
 manor of R — sitten were suddenly awakened by a shock like 
 an earthquake. All the servants of this gloomy domain ran 
 frightened through the rooms, to seek the cause of this 
 event ; but they found no vestige of destruction. All had 
 returned to the secular calm, in which reposed the ancient 
 family residence of R — sitten. Meanwhile, the old major- 
 domo, Daniel, having gone up alone to the knight's hall, 
 where baron Roderick, of R — sitten, retired every night after 
 his labors in alchemy, to which he abandoned himself ardent- 
 ly, was seized with horror at the sight of a sorrowful spectacle. 
 Between the door of Roderick's room and the door of another 
 apartment, was a third door conducting to the summit of the 
 castle-keep, into a pavilion that the baron had constructed for 
 his experiments. Daniel having opened this door, a gust of 
 wind extinguished his lamp; some bricks became detached 
 from the wall, and fell into the gulf with a hoarse reverbera- 
 tion. Daniel fell upon his knees, exclaiming, 
 
 " Merciful heaven ! our good master perished by a terrible 
 death ! " 
 
144 hoff3iann's strange stories. 
 
 A short time after the body of the unfortunate lord was 
 brought back in the arms of his weeping servants. They 
 clothed him in his richest vestments, and they exposed him to 
 view on a bier, constructed in the middle of the knight's hall. 
 
 An examination of the place showed that the upper arch of 
 the keep had caved in. The weight of the stones forming 
 the key of the arch had crushed in the floor ; the beams car- 
 ried down at the same time, had, under their w r eight, thrown 
 down a part of the wall, and pierced like arrows the lower 
 stories, so that on opening, in the darkness, the door of the 
 great hall, you could not step into the tower, without falling 
 into a hole more than a hundred feet deep. 
 
 The old baron Roderick had predicted the day of his death, 
 and had announced it to Wolfgang, the eldest of his children, 
 on whom fell the entail of R — sitten. This young lord, 
 having received at Vienna the message of his father, started 
 without delay to go to him. On his arrival he found his fears 
 cruelly realized, and fell fainting by the side of the funeral 
 couch. 
 
 " My poor father ! " exclaimed he, in a voice broken by 
 sobs, after a long pause of inanition and silent despair ; "my 
 poor father ! the study of the mysteries of the world has not 
 given thee the science of prolonging life." 
 
 After the funeral of the old lord, the young baron had 
 narrated to him the details of the ruin of the turret by Dan- 
 iel ; and, as the major-domo asked for his orders for the rep- 
 aration of it, 
 
 " No, never," said Wolfgang. " What to me is this old 
 residence, where my father consumed, in the study of magic, 
 the treasures that I had a right to inherit some day ! I do 
 not believe that the turret was destroyed by an ordinary acci- 
 dent. My father perished the victim of the explosion of his 
 accursed crucibles, in which melted away my fortune. I will 
 not give a florin to replace one stone of these ruins. I prefer 
 finishing the villa that one of my ancestors has commenced in 
 the valley." 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 145 
 
 ic But," said Daniel, " what will be the fate of the ancient 
 and faithful followers, whose asylum this manor is ? Shall 
 they go and beg the bread of pity ? '? 
 
 " What is it to me! " replied the inheritor of the entail ; 
 " what have I to do with these old people. I shall give to 
 each one a reward proportioned to the length of his services/' 
 
 "Alas, alas!" exclaimed the major-domo, mournfully, 
 84 must I at my age be sent from this house, where I hoped 
 that my bones would rest in peace ! J> 
 
 "Accursed dog," howled Wolfgang, his hand raised against 
 Daniel; " damned hypocrite, dost thou expect any favor of 
 me, and dost thou think to make me thy dupe, after having 
 aided my father in his sorcery, which consumed gradually the 
 best part of my inheritance ; thou who excite dst in the heart 
 of the old man all the extravagances of avarice ! Ought I 
 not, to reward thee worthily, kill thee ? " 
 
 Great was, at these words, the fright of Daniel ; he crawl- 
 ingly threw himself at the feet of his new lord, who having 
 no compassion upon him, knocked him down to the floor by a 
 violent kick in the breast. The miserable major-domo uttered 
 a stifled cry, like a wild beast wounded, and raised himself 
 slowly, throwing a look full of hatred and vengeance towards 
 his master, then went away without picking up a purse full 
 of gold that baron Wolfgang had dropped, to pay for the ill 
 treatment that had been inflicted upon his servant. 
 
 The first care of the new proprietor of R — sitten was to 
 compute, with the assistance of his counsellor, the lawyer 
 
 V , my great uncle, the state of the revenues of the 
 
 estate. This examination, finished with the most minute care, 
 established in the mind of the lawyer that the old baron Rod- 
 erick had not been able to spend the whole of the annual rent 
 of his domain ; and as they had found amongst his papers 
 but very insignificant value in bills of exchange, it was mani- 
 fest that the cash must have been secreted in some place, of 
 which the major-domo, Daniel, confidant of the deceased, alone 
 possessed the secret. 
 13 
 
146 Hoffmann's strange stories 
 
 The baron Wolfgang narrated to his counsellor the violent 
 scene in which he had struck Daniel, and showed some fear 
 that, to revenge himself, he would not discover the hiding- 
 place where reposed, probably, the ducats of the old lord. 
 The counsellor, like a sensible man, and like a skilful lawyer 
 who knows how to make people communicative in spite of 
 themselves, told Wolfgang not to trouble himself, and de- 
 clared that he would take it upon himself to interrogate 
 Daniel. But his first essays were unsuccessful. To every 
 question Daniel answered, with a satanic smile — M Good 
 heavens ! Master Justice, I have no desire to make a mystery 
 concerning a few miserable crowns ! You will find a goodly 
 number in a closet belonging to the bed-chamber of my poor 
 master. As for the remainder," added he with flashing 
 glances, " you must go and seek for them under the ruins of 
 the turret. I engage that there could be enough gold found 
 there to purchase a province." 
 
 Conformably to his directions, the closet was searched in 
 presence of Daniel. There was found a large iron trunk, full 
 of pieces of gold and silver, with a folded parchment under 
 the cover. They read there the following lines, written by 
 the old baron's own hand : 
 
 " He who shall inherit, after my death, the castle of 
 R — sitten, will find here one hundred and fifty thousand du- 
 cats, of which it is my last wish that he should make use to 
 construct, at the western angle of this castle, in the place of 
 the turret that he will find destroyed, a light-house, whose 
 light should burn every night, to warn those who sail upon 
 the lake." 
 
 This singular will was signed with the name and seal of 
 Roderick, baron of R — sitten, and dated St. Michaels eve, 
 176-. 
 
 After having verified the account of the ducats, Wolfgang 
 turned towards Daniel. 
 
 w Thou hast been," said he to him, "a faithful servant, 
 and I regret the violence with which I have used thee unjustly. 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR, 147 
 
 To repay thee for it, I continue thee in thy office of major- 
 domo. According to thy desire, thy bones shall rest in this 
 castle ; if thou wishest gold, stoop and fill thy hands. " 
 
 Daniel only answered the young baron by a hoarse groan. 
 The justice trembled at the extraordinary sound of that voice, 
 which appeared to sob in an infernal language — ' ' I want 
 none of thy gold— I want thy blood ! " . 
 
 Wolfgang, dazzled by the sight of the treasure which rolled 
 before his eyes, had not observed the equivocal look of Daniel, 
 when the latter, with the cowardliness of a whipped dog, bent 
 down to kiss the hand of his lord, and thank him for his gra- 
 cious goodness, 
 
 Wolfgang shut the coffer, the key of which he put into his 
 pocket ; then he came out of the closet, saying to Daniel, with 
 his face suddenly clouded — " Would it then be so difficult to 
 recover the treasure buried under the ruins of the turret ? ' p 
 
 Daniel answered by shaking his head, and opened the. door 
 which led to the keep. But hardly was it open, when a 
 whirlwind of cold air forced into the room a mass of snow, and 
 from the abyss arose an owl, who made several turns back and 
 forth, and flew away frightened, uttering mournful cries. 
 
 The baron advanced towards the edge of the gulf, and could 
 not refrain from shuddering, in measuring with a look its 
 l^lack depths. The justice, fearing a vertigo, drew Wolfgang 
 back, whilst Daniel hastened to shut the fatal door, saying in 
 a piteous tone — " Alas, yes, down there are buried and 
 broken the instruments of the great art of my honored master, 
 articles of the highest value I ' ' 
 
 " But," exclaimed the baron, " thou hast spoken of 
 moneyed treasures, of considerable sums " 
 
 1 ' Oh, ' ' continued Daniel, ' ' I only meant to say that the 
 telescopes, the retorts, the quarter circles, the crucibles, had 
 cost considerable sums. I know nothing more." 
 
 No other reply could be elicited from the major-domo. 
 
 Baron Wolfgang felt quite joyful in having at his disposi- 
 tion pretty large sums to meet the expense of the construction 
 
148 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 of the new castle that he wished to finish. Architects of re- 
 nown were called to R — sitten, to draw up plans for him to 
 choose from ; but the lord of the domain, not being able to 
 decide upon any of those that were presented to him, decided 
 upon drawing himself the sketch of the elegant habitation 
 which he wished to erect for himself; and, for the rest, he 
 spared no expense to pay liberally all the workmen that he 
 employed. 
 
 Daniel appeared to have forgotten his feelings against 
 Wolfgang, and acted towards the baron with a reserve full of 
 respect. 
 
 A short time after these events, the peaceful life of the in- 
 habitants of R — sitten was troubled by the arrival of a new 
 personage, Hubert, the younger brother of Wolfgang. This 
 unexpected visit produced on the inheritor of the castle a 
 singular impression. He repulsed the embraces of his brother, 
 and drew him violently into a distant room, where they re- 
 mained shut up for several hours. At the end of this long 
 interview, Hubert came out with a look of consternation, and 
 asked for his horse * — but when he was about to depart, law- 
 yer V , thinking that this meeting would establish again, 
 
 forever, harmony between two brothers, too long separated by 
 family dissensions, begged Hubert to remain for a few hours 
 longer at the castle : and, at the same time, baron Wolfgang 
 arriving, joined his entreaties to those of the justice, saying 
 to his brother, 
 
 il I hope that before long thou wilt reflect." 
 
 These words calmed, apparently, the agitation of Hubert ; 
 he decided upon remaining. Towards evening, my great uncle 
 went up to Wolfgang's study, to consult with him concerning 
 a detail of the administration of the affairs of the castle. He 
 found him a prey to a violent anxiety, and walking the room 
 hurriedly, like a man pre-occupied with a fixed and painful 
 idea. 
 
 " My brother has just arrived," said Wolfgang, " and I 
 have found in him, at first, evidences of that family aversion 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 149 
 
 which has separated us for so many years. Hubert hates me 
 because I am rich, and because he has spent, like a true prodi- 
 gal, the greater part of his fortune. He comes to me with 
 the most hostile disposition, as if I ought to become responsi- 
 ble for his folly. I cannot and will not dispossess myself of 
 the smallest part of the revenues of my inheritance. But, 
 like a good brother, I would consent to abandon to him a half 
 that belongs to*me, of a vast domain, that our father pos- 
 sessed in C our land. This sacrifice, on my part, would place 
 Hubert in a position to pay the debts that he has contracted, 
 and to withdraw from annoyance his wife and children, who 
 are suffering now the consequences of his improvidence and 
 
 misconduct. But, figure to yourself, my dear V , that 
 
 this prodigal madman has discovered, I know not by what 
 sorcery, the existence in my hands of the coffer which con- 
 tains the hundred and fifty thousand ducats, that we found in 
 the vault. He pretends that he can force me to give up to 
 him a half of this sum ! But may the lightning strike me 
 before I consent to it ; and if he meditates any evil trick 
 against me, God preserve me, and make his attempts unsuc- 
 cessful.' ' 
 
 The justice forgot nothing that would make Wolfgang look 
 upon the visit of his brother in a less odious light. Charged 
 by the baron with the negotiation of a transaction with Hubert, 
 he acquitted himself of this confidential mission with infinite 
 zeal. Hubert, pressed by a very active need of money, ac- 
 cepted the offers of Wolfgang with two conditions : the first, 
 that Wolfgang should add to his part of the inheritance a 
 present of four thousand ducats, which should be employed 
 to calm the pursuit of the most pressing among his creditors ; 
 the second, that he should be permitted to pass several days 
 at R — sitten, near his beloved brother. 
 
 To this demand Wolfgang loudly exclaimed, that he could 
 never subscribe, his wife being on the point of arriving. For 
 the rest, he counted out to Hubert two thousand pieces of 
 gold, as a gift. 
 
 13* 
 
.150 hoffmanx's strange stokles. 
 
 On listening to the message of the justice, Hubert knit his 
 brows : — " I will reflect upon it," said he ; " but meanwhile, 
 I am installed here, and I will not stir." 
 
 The justice exhausted himself in vain efforts to dissuade 
 him from his resistance to the desires of the baron. Hubert 
 could not tranquilly resign himself to seeing the inheritance 
 in the hands of a brother, privileged by right of age. This 
 law appeared to him supremely unjust and%ounding. The 
 generosity of Wolfgang appeared to him more difficult to 
 support than an injury. 
 
 " So then," exclaimed he, " my brother treats me like a 
 beggar ! I will never forget it, and soon, I hope, he will ap- 
 preciate the consequences of his proceedings as regards me. 
 
 Hubert installed himself, as he had announced, in one of 
 the wings of the old castle. He passed his days in hunting, 
 and often Daniel accompanied him ; he was, besides, the only 
 one of the inhabitants of the manor whose association ap- 
 peared to agree with him. He lived, for the rest, in almost 
 absolute solitude, avoiding, above all things, a meeting with 
 his brother. The justice did not remain long without con- 
 ceiving some suspicion, and without manifesting a certain dis- 
 trust, in regard to Hubert and his mysterious life. One 
 morning, Hubert entered his office, and announced that he 
 had changed his opinion, that hew T as ready to quit R — sitten, 
 provided that he counted out to him on the spot, the two 
 thousand pieces of gold agreed upon. 
 
 " His departure," said he, " was fixed for the next night ; 
 and as he wished to travel on horseback, he asked that the 
 sum might be given to him in a letter of credit, on the banker 
 Isaac Lazarus, of the city of K., where it was his intention to 
 establish himself. 
 
 This news caused ineffable joy in the heart of Wolfgang. 
 
 " My dear brother," said he, whilst signing the letters of 
 credit, ?? has at last renounced his angry disposition towards 
 me ! Good harmony is forever re-established between us, or 
 at least he will no longer sadden, by his presence, the occu- 
 pation of this castle.*' 
 
THE WALLED-UP BOOR. * 151 
 
 In the middle of the following night, the justice V 
 
 was suddenly awakened by a lamentable groan. He arose in 
 bed and listened ; but all had become silence again, and 
 
 V imagined that he had had a bad dream : he left his 
 
 bed and went to the window to calm his mind by breathing 
 the cool night air. Hardly had he remained a few minutes 
 leaning on the window-sill, than he saw the castle door open, 
 creaking on its rusty hinges. Daniel, the major-domo, armed 
 with a dark lantern, took from the stable a saddled horse, 
 which he led into tbe yard ; then another man, enveloped to 
 the eyes in a furred cloak, came out of the castle ; it was 
 Hubert, who conversed several minutes with the major-domo, 
 gesticulating animatedly, after which he re-entered the castle. 
 Daniel conducted the horse back to the stable, shut it, also 
 the door of the castle, and retired noiselessly. The justice 
 made all kinds of conjectures concerning this failure to depart. 
 He asked himself for what motive Hubert could have changed 
 his mind ; did there not exist between him and Daniel some 
 understanding to produce an evil, that the future alone would 
 make known ? All possible suppositions were equally dan- 
 gerous and painful ; great sagacity and an indefatigable sur- 
 veillance was necessary to thwart the evil projects that these 
 two men could nourish between them, the last of whom above 
 all, master Daniel, was already covered, in the eyes of the 
 
 justice, with a coating of ineffacable wickedness. V 
 
 passed the remainder of the night in the midst of singular 
 reflections, which were something less than re-assuring. At 
 day break, as he was about to go to sleep again, he heard a 
 great noise of confused voices, and people who were running 
 about in every direction; soon several distracted servants 
 came and knocked at his door, and announced to him that the 
 baron Wolfgang had disappeared, without their being able to 
 tell what had become of him. He had retired the night be- 
 fore at his usual hour, then he must have gone out in his 
 night dress with a light, for these articles were no longer to 
 be found in his chamber, in the place where they were the 
 night before. 
 
152 HOFFMANN [ : S STKANGK STOttlKS. 
 
 Struck with a sudden idea, which caused him the most 
 
 cruel anguish, the justice V recollected the fact, of which 
 
 he was rendered the involuntary witness the past night. He 
 also recollected the mournful cry that he had heard. His 
 heart a prey to the most fatal apprehensions, lie ran' to the 
 knight's hall; the door which communicated with the keep 
 was open ! The justice pointed with his finger to the abyss 
 of the tower, and said to the servants, chilled with fright, 
 
 " It is there that your unfortunate master has found death 
 this night ! " 
 
 And in fact, through a thick coating of snow, which had 
 drifted during the night, on the ruins, was seen an arm stif- 
 fened by death, half extended from amongst the stones. Several 
 hours were required, and at the risk of the greatest danger, 
 to recover, by means of ladders fastened together, the body of 
 baron Wolfgang. One of his hands starkly held the lamp 
 which had served to light him ; all his limbs were horribly 
 dislocated in his fall, and torn by the angles of the rocks. 
 
 Hubert was amongst the first to make his appearance, offer- 
 ing on his face all the signs of a true despair. The body of 
 Wolfgang was laid on a large table, in the same place, where 
 b short time before they had placed that of the old baron 
 Roderick. Hubert threw himself on the body weepingly. 
 
 " Brother,' ' exclaimed he, "I did not ask this fatal ven- 
 geance of the demons who possessed me ! " 
 
 The justice, who was present, did not understand what 
 these mysterious words could signify, but a secret instinct 
 which he could not repress, pointed Hubert out to him as the 
 murderer, through jealousy of the title to the entail. A few 
 hours after this painful scene, Hubert came to seek him in 
 the council chamber. He seated himself, pale and unnerved, 
 in an oak arm chair, and spoke in a voice, made tremulous by 
 emotion. 
 
 " I was," said he, " the enemy of my brother, on account 
 of that absurd law which enriches the eldest of a family to 
 the disadvantage of the other children. A frightful misfor- 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 153 
 
 tune has ended his days. I wish that this may not be a 
 chastisement from heaven for the hardness of his heart. I am 
 now the inheritor of the entail ; God knows how much this 
 change of fortune afflicts my heart ; all happiness in this 
 world has fled from me. As for yourself, sir, I confirm you 
 fully in the charges and powers that were confided to you 
 during the lifetime of my father and my brother ; rule this 
 domain according to your views, for my best interest. As 
 for myself, I am about to leave this castle ; I cannot live a 
 single day longer amongst the scenes where such frightful 
 events have taken place." 
 
 With these words, Hubert arose and left the apartment. 
 Two hours afterwards he was galloping his horse towards 
 K . 
 
 Meanwhile they were busy making inquiries concerning the 
 cause of the death of the unfortunate baron. The common 
 opinion was that he had arisen during the night, to seek for 
 some book in the library. Deceived by his half slumbering 
 condition, he mistook the door, and had opened the middle 
 one, which opened on the abyss. This explanation was not 
 wholly satisfactory ; the door leading to the turret must have 
 been usually bolted with great care, and time and strength 
 were necessary to open it. How then imagine that the 
 young baron could have been the victim of such an error ? 
 The justice lost himself in reflections, when Franz, the favorite 
 servant of Wolfgang, who listened to him as he was talking 
 to himself, interrupted him to say, 
 
 "Ah ! it was not thus, that his misfortune happened ! " 
 
 But all the questions with which he was urged, could not 
 draw from him the least explanation in presence of witnesses. 
 He declared that he would only speak to the justice, and 
 under promise of secrecy. He afterwards related, in a mys- 
 terious conversation, that the departed often spoke of treasures 
 that he supposed were buried up under the ruins of the turret ; 
 that he had taken the key of the door from Daniel, and that 
 often, in the middle of the night, he went and crouched over 
 
154 
 
 the gulf, to dream at leisure of the immense riches that his 
 love of gold led him to imagine were buried up in this abyss. 
 It was probable that during one of these perigrinations, he 
 had been attacked with a dizziness, and fallen. Daniel, who 
 appeared to feel, inore_ sensibly than any other person, the 
 horror of this accident, proposed to have the door walled-up, 
 and his suggestion was immediately followed. 
 
 Hubert, invested with the title, returned to the province of 
 
 Courland, leaving to justice V the necessary power for 
 
 managing for him the domain of R — sitten. The project for 
 the construction of a new castle was abandoned, and they 
 solely occupied themselves in propping up the ruins of the 
 old one. 
 
 Several years after these events, Hubert re-appeared one 
 day at R — sitten : it was at the beginning of autumn. Dur- 
 ing the short stay that he made at the castle, he had frequent 
 secret interviews with the justice, spoke of his approaching 
 death, and announced that he had deposited his will in the 
 hands of the magistrates of the city of K— — . His presenti- 
 ments were justified : he died the next year. His son, who 
 bore his name, went immediate ty to R — sitten, to take pos- 
 session of his inheritance ; his mother and sisters were his 
 companions. The young lord appeared to be inclined to all 
 the vices. On his arrival at R — sitten, he drew upon himself 
 the hatred of all his companions in the manor : the first act 
 of his will was about to turn everything in the domain upside 
 down, when the justice declared that he formally opposed the 
 orders given by this young madman, until after the will of 
 his father was read, which could alone confer upon him in a 
 reasonable manner the rights that he so arrogantly assumed. 
 
 The unexpected resistance on the part of a man who was 
 nothing in his eyes but an upper servant, transported the 
 young lord with anger. But the justice knew how to hold 
 his own against the storm, and maintained courageously the 
 inviolability of his functions. He went so far as to order 
 3 T oung Hubert to leave R — sitten until the day fixed for the 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 155 
 
 reading of the will. Three months from that time, the parch- 
 ments were opened at K , in the presence of the magis- 
 trates of the city. Besides the witnesses necessary to this 
 
 reading, justice V— had brought a good looking young 
 
 man, but simply dressed, and who might have been taken tor 
 his secretary. The future possessor of the title presented 
 himself arrogantly, and claimed the immediate reading of the 
 will, not having, as he said, much time to lose in foolish 
 formalities. 
 
 The deceased baron Hubert of R — sitten declared that he 
 had never possessed the title as the real inheritor, but that he 
 had managed for the interest of the only son of his brother 
 Wolfgang of R — sitten. This child bore, like his grand- 
 father, the name of Roderick ; he alone could be the legiti- 
 mate heir to the title. The will related, besides, that the 
 baron Wolfgang, in his travels, had been united at Geneva, 
 by a secret marriage, with a young lady of noble family, but 
 without fortune. His wife, at the end of a year, had left 
 him a widower with a son, whose rights of birth no one could 
 contest, and who found himself thus called to inherit the 
 title. Finally, to explain his perpetual silence during his 
 lifetime on the subject of this revelation, Hubert declared 
 that a private agreement between Wolfgang and himself, 
 had made this silence a sacred obligation. 
 
 The reading of the articles of the will being ended, the 
 
 justice V- arose and presented to the magistrates the 
 
 young unknown that he had brought with him. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " this is the baron Roderick of 
 
 R , legitimate son of Wolfgang of R , and lord by 
 
 right of the inheritance and title of R — sitten." 
 
 Hubert, hearing these words, appeared annihilated as if 
 stunned by a thunder clap; then recovering himself by a 
 kind of convulsion, he stretched out his hand like a threat 
 against the young man who thus suddenly stood between him 
 and his fortune, and sprang out of the hall with all the signs 
 of a furious delirium. 
 
15(5 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Meanwhile, by order of the magistrates, Roderick drew 
 from his pockets the writings that established, indubitably, his 
 identity \ he also placed before their eyes the letters of his 
 father to his mother. But, in the papers, Wolfgang had 
 taken the standing of merchant, and the name of DeBorn ; 
 and his letters, although the resemblance of the hand-writing 
 
 was evident, only bore for signature the initial W . The 
 
 judges were very much embarrassed to decide this grave ques- 
 tion, and separated, to proceed to a vigorous study of the 
 facts that had been submitted to them. Hubert, informed of 
 what was passing, immediately addressed a request to the 
 regent of the district, to be put into immediate possession of 
 the inheritance, in default of sufficient proofs in favor of his 
 adversary. The tribunal decided that it should be done as 
 the baron Hubert of R — sitten solicited, if young Roderick 
 did not, without delay, furnish undoubted evidence of the 
 legitimacy of his claims. 
 
 Justice V gathered carefully all the papers left by 
 
 Wolfgang of R ; he was once, towards midnight, in the 
 
 bed-chamber of the deceased, at R — sitten, buried to the 
 eyes in dust and old files of papers ; the moon shone from 
 outside with a sinister light, whose reflections furrowed the 
 walls of the neighboring hall, of which the door was open. 
 Suddenly the justice was drawn from his labor by a noise of 
 footsteps that proceeded from the stairway, and by the jingling 
 of a bunch of keys. He rose and went into the hall, listen- 
 ing attentively. A door opened, and a man partly dressed, 
 carrying a dark lantern, entered staggeringly, his face pale 
 
 and distorted. V recognized Daniel ; he was about 
 
 speaking to him, when on examining the features of the old 
 major-domo, he perceived that he was suffering an attack of som- 
 nambulism, for he was walking with his eyes closed, — directed 
 himself towards the walled-up door, placed his lantern on the 
 floor, drew a key from the bunch hanging at his girdle, and 
 began to scratch at the door, uttering hoarse groans. A few 
 minutes after he placed his ear to the wall* as if to listen to 
 
THE WALLED-UP DO Oil. 15? 
 
 gome noise, and with an imperative gesture seemed to impose 
 silence on some one. Finally, after all these mysterious de- 
 monstrations, he stooped, took up his lantern, and returned 
 by the same way that he had come. The justice followed him 
 carefully, Daniel descended, went to the stable, saddled a 
 horse, conducted him to the court yard, and after having re- 
 mained a short time with his head bent, in the posture of a 
 servant who is receiving the orders of his master, he put the 
 horse back into the stable, and went back to his chamber, of 
 which he took care to bolt the door. This strange scene gave birth 
 in the mind of the justice, to the idea that a crime had been 
 committed, in the castle, and that Daniel had been either the 
 accomplice or the witness of it. 
 
 The following day, towards dark, Daniel having presented 
 himself in his room to perform certain details of his duty, 
 the justice took him by both hands, and made him sit down 
 in an arm-chair opposite to him. 
 
 "Tell me, now," said he to him, "my old Daniel, what 
 you think of the disagreeable suit now pending between 
 Hubert and young Roderick ? " 
 
 "Ahem, ahem! what is it to me which of them shall be 
 master here? " answered Daniel, winking his eyes and lower- 
 ing his voice, as if he was afraid of being heard. 
 
 "What is the matter with }^ou, Daniel?" continued the 
 justice, " you tremble all over as if you had committed a 
 crime. It would be said, on seeing you, that you had just 
 passed a very restless night." 
 
 Daniel, instead of answering*, arose heavily, and tried to 
 go out of the room, throwing an unmeaning look around him. 
 But the justice, forcing him into his chair again, said to him 
 harshly, 
 
 " Stay, Daniel, and tell me immediately what, you did last 
 night : or rather explain to me what I saw ? " 
 
 " Well, in God's name, what did you see ? " said the old 
 man, shudderingly. 
 
 The justice related the nocturnal scene that I have just 
 
158 
 
 STRANGE STORIKS 
 
 described. Whilst listening to him the old major-domo, stupi- 
 fied, sank back into the great chair, and covered his face with 
 his hands, to hide himself from the penetrating look that inter- 
 rogated him. 
 
 44 It appears, Daniel," continued the justice, "that the 
 desire takes you, during the night, to go and visit the treas- 
 ures that the old baron Roderick had amassed in the turret. 
 In their attacks, somnambulists answer, without equivocation, 
 to the questions that are put to them ; the next night we will 
 speak of certain things." 
 
 As the justice spoke, Daniel was troubled ; at the last 
 words uttered by V , he cried out loudly, and fell faint- 
 ing. Some servants were called, and carried him immediate- 
 ly to his bed, insensible. He passed from this crisis to a 
 state of complete lethargy, which lasted several hours. On 
 awaking, he asked for drink, then sent away the servant, who 
 was watching with him, and shut himself up in his room. 
 
 The following night, as the justice was thinking of making 
 a decisive trial on Daniel, he heard a noise without, as if sev- 
 eral panes of glass w r ere being broke. He ran to the window : 
 a thick vapor was issuing from the room occupied by Daniel, 
 of which they had forced the door to save it from the fire. 
 The old major-domo was found in a fainting fit on the floor, 
 His broken lantern by his side, had communicated the fire to 
 the bed curtains, and without the prompt aid which was ren- 
 dered to him, he would have perished miserably. It had 
 been necessary, in order to reach him, to break down the 
 door, fastened by two enormous bolts. The justice under- 
 stood that Daniel wished to make it impossible for him to get 
 out of his room, but the blind instinct wdiieh directs somnam- 
 bulists had been stronger than his will. He had awoke in 
 the midst of the crisis, on finding an unaccustomed resistance ; 
 his lantern had fallen from his hand, had set fire, and the 
 frio-ht had made him lose the use of his senses. Come to 
 
 o 
 
 himself, Daniel had a long and serious illness, from which he 
 arose only to drag himself about in a frightfully languid con- 
 dition, 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 159 
 
 One evening that the justice, constantly occupied in seeking 
 the proofe winch established the rights of Roderick, his pro- 
 tege, was searching once more the archives of R — Bitten, 
 Daniel entered the room, walking with measured steps, like 
 a spectre. He went directly towards the desk of the justice, 
 on which he laid a portfolio of black leather ; then he fell 
 upon his knees, exclaiming : 
 
 " There is a Judge in heaven ! I wished to have time to 
 repent ! ' ' 
 
 Then he arose and went out of the chamber slowly, as he 
 had come. 
 
 The black portfolio contained precious papers, all written 
 by the hand of "Wolfgang, and sealed with his seal. These 
 papers established clearly the legitimacy of his son, and con- 
 tained the history of his secret marriage. These proofs be- 
 came indisputable. Hubert was obliged to recognize them 
 when they were presented to him, and he declared before the 
 judges that he desisted from all claims to the inheritance of 
 his uncle Wolfgang of R — sitten. After this move he quitted 
 the city and the country. It was known that he went to St. 
 Petersburg, where he served in the Russian army, and had 
 been sent to Persia. His mother and sister occupied them- 
 selves, after his departure, with putting in order the affairs of 
 their domain in Courland. Roderick, violently smitten with 
 the charms of Hubert's sister, followed these ladies to their 
 
 homes, and the justice Y having returned to K , the 
 
 castle of R — sitten became again more gloomy and deserted 
 than ever. 
 
 Since the scene of the black portfolio, Daniel had become 
 so ill, that it had been necessary to bestow his office upon an- 
 other major-domo. Franz was invested with this employment, 
 which was a just recompense for his faithful service. A short 
 time after, all the judicial affairs relative to the entail were com* 
 pletely elucidated ; the legal formalities wore fulfilled by the care 
 
 of justice V^ , who gave himself no rest until he had seen 
 
 the young Roderick installed securely, and sheltered from all 
 
160 hoffmAnn'S strange stortes. 
 
 further fears. But a short time elapsed before lie had heard 
 that Hubert, his competitor, had perished in a battle against 
 the Persians ; so that his property in Courland passed into 
 the hands of the beautiful Seraphine, his sister, who recipro- 
 cated the love of Roderick, and who was soon united to him 
 by the bonds of marriage. The wedding took place at 
 R — sitten at the commencement of the month of November, 
 and nothing was spared to give to this ceremony all the splen- 
 dor which the high rank and riches of the parties required. 
 The justice V , who had looked upon himself for a num- 
 ber of years as inseparable from the lord of R — sitten, had 
 chosen for his domicil at the castle, the old sleeping room of 
 the ancient Roderick, in order, thought he, to be thus more 
 able to spy into the secrets of the conduct of Daniel. One 
 evening that the baron and his lawyer, seated in this chamber, 
 one at each end of a table, placed before an enormous fire, 
 were busy examining the condition of the revenues of the 
 domain, the blast roared outside with great fury ; the fir trees 
 in the forest cracked like giant skeletons, and the howling of 
 the wind, like sobs, pervaded the galleries. 
 
 44 Yvhat frightful weather out there, and how comfortable it 
 is here ! " exclaimed Y . 
 
 rt Yes, yes, frightful," repeated Roderick, mechanically, 
 whom nothing had been able to abstract from his calculations 
 until then. He arose to go to the window to observe the 
 effect of the tempest : but hardly was he up, than he fell 
 back into his chair, his mouth open, his look fixed, his hand 
 extended towards the door which had just opened, to give en- 
 trance to a livid and fieshless figure, whose aspect would have 
 inspired the bravest with terror. It was Daniel ! 
 
 Paler than Daniel, and agitated by a feverish impatience 
 on seeing the old major-domo scratch at the wailed-up door, 
 the baron Roderick sprang towards him, crying out : 
 
 ;i Daniel, Daniel ! what doest thou here at this hour ? ,? 
 
 Daniel uttered a groan and fell backwards. They tried to 
 raise him, the unfortunate man was dead. 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOR. 161 
 
 64 Great God ! " exclaimed Roderick, clasping his hands, 
 " what a crime a moment of fear has made me commit ! this 
 man was a somnambulist, and the physicians, do they not say 
 that it is sufficient to call a man by his name, when he is in 
 his fits of hallucination, to kill him suddenly? " 
 
 . " Baron," said the justice, gravely, " do not accuse yourself 
 of the punishment of this man who has just died, for he was 
 the murderer of your father ! " 
 
 -Of my father?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord ; it was the hand of God which struck him 
 when you spoke ; the terror which seized upon you, is the in- 
 stinct of odious repulsion, which takes possession of us at the 
 aspect, at the touch of a scoundrel. The words that you 
 spoke to Daniel, and which killed him like a clap of thunder, 
 are the last that your unfortunate father pronounced." 
 
 The justice, taking then from his pocket a writing care- 
 fully sealed, which was wholly from the hand of Hubert, 
 brother of Wolfgang of R — sitten, he set himself about un- 
 veiling to the eyes of Roderick, the mysteries of hate and 
 vengeance which had already drawn so many misfortunes 
 upon the family of R — sitten. He read a kind of autograph 
 confession, in which Hubert, (the one who had just died in 
 Persia,) declared that his animosity against his brother Wolf- 
 gang, dated from the institution of the entail of R — sitten. 
 This act of the will of their father which deprived him, 
 Hubert, of the best part of his fortune for the advantage of 
 his elder brother, had left in his heart the germs of a resent- 
 ment which nothing could destroy. Since that epoch, Hubert, 
 yielding to an irresistable desire for vengeance, had concerted 
 with Daniel the most effectual means to create a misunder- 
 standing between Wolfgang and the old baron Roderick. 
 The old man wished to render more illustrious the new title 
 of the alliance of his eldest son with one of the oldest families 
 in the country. His astrological observations had even made 
 him read in the starry heavens the certainty of this union ; so 
 that any choice that Wolfgang could have made against his 
 14* 
 
162 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 will, would have become for him a cause of mortal grief and 
 malediction. Wolfgang, suddenly taken with a violent pas- 
 sion for a young girl of noble lineage, hut entirely without 
 fortune, had flattered himself with leading, by force of time 
 and care, his old father to approve the marriage that lie had 
 contracted secretly with the woman whom he adored. 
 
 Meanwhile the old baron, having found in the constellations 
 the prediction of his approaching death, had written to Geneva 
 to order Wolfgang to come to him immediately. But when 
 he arrived, his father was dead, as we have seen at the com- 
 mencement of this story. A little later, when Hubert came 
 to R— sitten, to settle with his brother the affairs of the suc- 
 cession, Wolfgang frankly told him the mystery of his mar- 
 riage, expressing his joy at having been blessed with a son, 
 and with being able soon to discover to his beloved wife, that 
 the merchant DeBorn, to whom she had united her fate, was 
 the rich and powerful heir of the barons of R — sitten. He 
 confided to him, at the same time, his project of returning to 
 
 Geneva, to bring back the baroness Seraphine of R . 
 
 But death surprised him at the moment he was about to set 
 out. Hubert profited by his death, to assure his direct suc- 
 cession to the inheritance, since nothing established the rights 
 of the son of Wolfgang. Nevertheless, as he had in him a 
 fund of loyalty, remorse was not long in taking possession of 
 his mind. An accident which he looked upon as providential, 
 awoke in him the fear of heavenly punishment. He had 
 two children already eleven or twelve years of age, who 
 gave continual proofs of misunderstanding. One day, the 
 eldest of these two children said to the other, 
 
 ■" Thou art nothing but a miserable fellow ; I shall be 
 some day the lord of R~— sitten, and then it will be necessary, 
 my dear youngster, to come humbly to ask me for enough to 
 buy a new doublet.'' 
 
 The younger, irritated by this pleasantry, struck his brother 
 a blow with his knife, the consequences of which were fatal. 
 Hubert, frightened by this misfortune, sent his remaining son 
 
THE WALLED-UP DOOIt. 163 
 
 to Petersburg, where lie was placed in a regiment, under 
 the command of Suvarow. The grief wM'dh troubled him 
 made him reflect seriously. He collected, with religious care, the 
 rents of the estate, and sent to Geneva, under the fictitious 
 name of a relation of the merchant DeBorn, abundant pecu- 
 niary aid, to provide for the maintenance of the young son of 
 Wolfgang. As to the death of Wolfgang, it loner remained 
 a frightful mystery, that the madness of Daniel gave hardly a 
 glimpse of. Here is the explanation given by the confession 
 of Hubert. 
 
 On the night of his departure, Daniel, who doubtlessly 
 wished to profit by the animosity which existed between the 
 two brothers, retained him as he was mounting his horse, by 
 saying that he ought not to abandon thus a magnificent in- 
 heritance to the .avarice of Wolfgang. 
 
 "Well! what can I do about it?" exclaimed Hubert, 
 angrily, striking his forehead ; then he had added, making a 
 menacing gesture with his carbine — " all ! why have I not 
 been able, in the confusion of a hunt, to find the opportunity 
 to send the sure lead ! " 
 
 " Fortunate are you not to have committed this impru- 
 dence ! " continued Daniel, pressing his arm. " But would 
 you be decided upon taking possession of this domain, if you 
 had not the responsibility of the means? " 
 
 "Yes, at any price," hoarsely murmured the savage Hubert. 
 
 "Remain then here, from this time," said Daniel: you 
 are in your own house, baron of fi — sitten ; for the former 
 lord of the castle is dead, crushed this night under the ruins 
 of the turret ! " 
 
 This is the manner in which this fatal drama was accom- 
 plished ) Daniel, who was pursuing his project of appropriat- 
 ing a good sum of money, without counting the presents of 
 the new baron, had observed that Wolfgang came every night 
 to meditate on the edge of the abyss, that had been hollowed 
 out by the fall of the key-stone to the vault of the turret. 
 One night then, after being acquainted with the approaching 
 
164 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 departure of Hubert, lie wont and posted himself in an ob- 
 scure angle of the knight's hall, to wait until Wolfgang ap- 
 peared at the accustomed hour ; and when the unfortunate 
 baron had opened the door of the tower, lie had pushed him 
 by the shoulders into the gulf. His sordid avarice thus 
 touched the realization of his hopes, and his hate was satiated 
 with vengeance. 
 
 Cruelly moved by these horrible revelations, baron Roderick 
 could no longer live in this castle, over which hung a bloody 
 veil. He returned to his estates in Courland, from whence 
 he came no more to B, — sitten, except in the hunting season. 
 
 Franz, the new major-domo, related, during my stay at 
 R — sitten, that from time to time, during the nights lighted by 
 the full moon, the shade of Daniel was perceived wandering 
 through the galleries and large halls of the manor. 
 
 Such was the recital given to me by my great uncle, the jus- 
 tice. I risked then timidly a question concerning Seraphine. 
 
 " Cousin," said the good old man to me in a trembling 
 voice, "the cruel destiny which struck the family of R — sitten 
 did not spare this poor young woman. Two days after our de- 
 parture, she was tumbled down among the rocks in a sledging 
 party ; her skull was fractured. The baron is inconsolable 
 for his loss. Cousin, we shall never return to R — sitten. 
 At these words, the voice of my great-uncle was extinguished 
 in tears. I left him with a lacerated heart. 
 
 Many years after these events, the justice had long slept in 
 the tomb. The war of Napoleon ravaged the North, and I 
 was returning from St. Petersburg along the sea coast. In 
 
 passing near the little city of K , I perceived at a great 
 
 distance a starlike flame. As I approached it, I distinguished 
 a very considerable blaze. I asked the postillion if it was a fire. 
 
 "No, sir," answered he, " it is the light-house of R — sit- 
 ten ! " 
 
 The light-house of R — sitten ! this name awoke all the 
 souvenirs of my heart. I saw in a pale halo my adored Ser- 
 
THE WALLED-UP BOOR. 165 
 
 aphine ! I drove to the village where the steward of the 
 domain lived, I ashed to see him. 
 
 " Sir," said a clerk in royal livery to me, taking out his 
 pipe, " there is no longer here any steward of the domain of 
 R — sitten. It is a domain sequestered to the crown by the 
 death of the last baron without heirs, deceased sixteen years 
 ago." 
 
 I went up to the manor ; it was in ruins. They had em- 
 ployed the best materials in the construction of a light-house 
 on the rock. A peasant whom I met in the wood of fir trees 
 told me, with a frightened look, that at the return of the full 
 moon, was often seen white shadows pursuing each other 
 among the ruins uttering mournful cries. 
 
 Sweet soul of my Seraphine, thou shalt not go into those 
 desolate places ! God has recalled thee to Himself, to sing 
 holy hymns among the angels ! 
 
. 
 
 
 BEimiOLD, THE MADMAN. 
 
 At the end of a long journey, jolted in an old coach, in 
 which the worms found nothing more to eat, I arrived before 
 the only inn of the borough of Gr— — •. This little locality 
 was not without its charms, and I should have been pleased 
 to make some stay there, had it not been for the annoyance 
 forced upon me by a detention hurtful to my interests ; for 
 the unfortunate coach in question was so dilapidated that the 
 
 curious people in G , standing at their doors, cried in my 
 
 ears, in an almost unanimous voice, that two or three clays would 
 hardly suffice to put my paltry equipage in a state to proceed. 
 Do you understand, friend reader, the pleasure of a traveller 
 stuck in the mud ? As for myself, I wag on that day in a 
 terrible humor, when I recollected suddenly, by chance, of a 
 certain person, concerning whom one of my friends had 
 spoken to me some years before. This person was called 
 Aloysius Walter ; he was an educated man, of excellent repu- 
 tation, professor of humanities in the Jesuit College at 
 
 6 . I thought that to kill time, I could not do better 
 
 than to pay a visit to the professor ; but at the door of the 
 college I learned that he was busy with his class in philosophy ; 
 it was necessary to come back at another time, or wait in the 
 stranger's parlor. I waited. The gallery, in whose archi- 
 tecture I observed a mixed style of Roman and the reformed, 
 did not offer to the eye the severe harmony of religious con- 
 structions. Portraits of the dignitaries of the Jesuit society, 
 
BERTHOLP, THE MADMAN. 167 
 
 clothed in their black robes, contrasted singularly with the 
 Greek ornaments of the pillars and ceiling, where the decor- 
 ator's had figured little flying angels, surrounded by garlands 
 of flowers and baskets of fruit. When master Aloysius pre- 
 sented himself to me, I excused the indiscretion of my visit 
 on account of the intimacy of my friend, whose name the 
 Rev. father gladly welcomed. This Jesuit was an elegant 
 talker, a priest without austere manners, and who must have 
 seen wordly life more than once through the window of his 
 convent. He conducted me into his cell, a cocjuettishly fur- 
 nished room, which would not have been discreditable to one 
 of our modern elegants, and as he guessed my surprise at the 
 sight of these little elegances of agreeable existence, the 
 taste for which had been able to slip into a place destined 
 for the accomplishment of such grave duties, he hastened tc 
 take up the conversation. 
 
 " Sir," said he with a polished smile, "we have, as you 
 see, banished from our houses the shadowy poetry of the 
 Gothic style. The Gothic applied to a religious edifice, sad- 
 dens the soul with mysterious terrors, instead of raising it to 
 hope ; God, who has made nature so beautiful and rich to 
 the eye of man, wishes us to come to him by paths of love, 
 instead of bowing himself under the arid vaults of these 
 forests of stone and iron which represent the cathedrals of the 
 north. 
 
 If the true country of man is in heaven, and God has 
 strewn the sky with marvels of his power, why should it not 
 be permitted us to enjoy, whilst passing along, the flowers 
 which spring here and there in the paths of our valley of 
 exile ? As for the rest, do not imagine that this apparent 
 richness of our houses can make us deserve an accusation of 
 luxury and prodigality. Marble, in this country, would be 
 enormously expensive ; thus we have known how to content 
 ourselves with clothing in stucco our humble stone walls, and 
 it is the brush of the painter which often creates those varied 
 marblings with which ignorant Puritanism becomes offended." 
 
168 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Whilst talking thus, father Aloysius had conducted me to 
 the chapel, whose nave was supported by a magnificent col- 
 onade of the Corinthian order. On the left of the great 
 altar arose a vast scaffolding, on which a painter was busy 
 repairing frescoes painted in the old French style. 
 
 "Well, master Berthold," said Aloysius, "how goes on 
 the work?" 
 
 The painter hardly turned to look at us, and recommenced 
 his labor, murmuring, so as to be heard with difficulty. 
 
 "Bad work ! confused lines— a mixed mass of figures of 
 men, animals, monkeys, demons ! Miserable madman that I 
 am ! " 
 
 The plaintive accent with which the painter dropped these 
 words made my heart ache : I saw before me, doubtlessly, a 
 poor unknown artist, whose talent was made use of for a bit 
 of bread which hardly sufficed to keep him from want. This 
 man carried in his features the marks of forty years of age f 
 and in spite of the dilapidation visible in his costume, there 
 was in the whole of his appearance a singular nobility of ex- 
 pression, which neither age nor grief had been able to destroy. 
 I asked, concerning him, some questions of my guide. 
 
 " He is," answered Aloysius, " a strange painter who came 
 to us at the time when we were thinking of repairing our church. 
 This circumstance was for him, as well as ourselves, very for- 
 tunate, for the poor devil was destitute of everything, and we 
 would have found with difficulty, and even then at great ex- 
 pense, a man so capable as he is, to undertake and perform 
 successfully so difficult a piece of work. On this account we 
 pay him particular attention ; besides his pay, he sits at table 
 with the superiors. This is a favor which he does not abuse. 
 I have never seen so sober a man ; he is nearly an anchorite. 
 But come with me and look at some valuable paintings with 
 which we have ornamented the lower side of the nave. With 
 the exception of the painting of Dominiquin, these are master- 
 pieces of unknown painters of the Italian school ; but you 
 will agree, I am sure, that a work has not always need of 
 
BLRTIIOLP, THE MADMAX. 169 
 
 being signed by the name of the artist to give it value, and 
 that we possess enough here to make the richest amateurs en- 
 vious." 
 
 The father was right ; and it seemed to me that even the 
 canvas of Dominiqum was inferior to the other paintings. 
 One of them was carefully veiled. I asked the reason of 
 this. 
 
 "That is," said Aloysius, "the bess one that we have; 
 we are indebted for this work to a young artist, who perhaps 
 will never make any others. And without giving me time 
 to insist, he drew me along, as if to avoid any more questions 
 on this subject. We reentered the college buildings, and 
 the obliging professor proposed to me to go on a visit, that 
 same day, to the country seat of the fathers. We returned 
 from this excursion at a pretty late hour. A storm was 
 gathering, and I had hardly returned to my hotel when the 
 rain commenced like a deluge. Towards midnight the weather 
 cleared up ; the stars became visible in the blue sky, and, 
 leaning on the sill of my window, I breathed with delight the 
 emanations of the earth. Little by little, my feelings be- 
 came so excited, that I could not resist the desire to go out 
 and walk around the place whilst waiting the inclination to sleep. 
 I passed again before the church of the Jesuits : as a feeble 
 light struggled through the windows, I approached nearer ; 
 the little side door was not shut ; I glided behind a pillar, 
 and from there I perceived a wax taper lighted in front of a 
 niche over which a netting was suspended. In the shadow 
 there was a man busy ascending and descending the steps of 
 a ladder. I recognized Berthold, who was tracing in black 
 on the interior wall of the niche all the lines of shade pro- 
 jected by the netting. A little farther, on a large easel, was 
 the design of an altar. I comprehended immediately the 
 ingenious process which Berthold was making use of. Hav- 
 ing to. paint in the niche an altar in relief, on a curved, in- 
 stead of a plane surface, he had applied a net, whose uniform 
 squares cast curved shadows on the concavity of the wall ; 
 15 
 
170 iioffmaxns strange stories. 
 
 and, by this means, the altar drawn in perspective, offered 
 itself to the eye in relief. ] hiring this labor, which absorbed 
 all his faculties, Berthold appeared quite otherwise, than I 
 had formerly seen him. His face was animated, his look a 
 expressed a satisfaction without alloy 5 and when he had fin- 
 ished tracing on the wall the shadow of the net, he stood some 
 minutes before this sketch ; and, notwithstanding the holiness 
 of the place, commenced humming the chorus of a very lively 
 air ; then as lie turned to detach the net, which fell to the 
 floor, he perceived me standing immovably in the place that I 
 had not quitted. 
 
 4 'Hallo! hallo, there!" cried he; " is that you, Chris- 
 tian ? " 
 
 I thought, then, that it was my duty to approach and apolo- 
 gize for my intrusion, paying Berthold at the same time the 
 most eulogistic compliments on the exquisite art with which 
 he had made use of the net. But without replying a single 
 word to my graciousness, he said : 
 
 " Christian is an idle fellow, with whom I can do nothing ; 
 he was to have come to pass the whole night with me, and I 
 will lay a wager that he has gone and hid himself in some 
 corner to sleep at his ease, without care for my labor. To- 
 morrow, in the day time, I can no longer paint in this niche ; 
 and yet I cannot work alone now." 
 
 I then offered my services. 
 
 " Zounds ! " replied Berthold, laughing, and laying both 
 his hands rudely on my shoulders ; " Zounds, that was well 
 said; and Christian, to-morrow, will make a strange face 
 at seeing that we can do without him. To work, then, fine 
 journeyman that chance lends to the artist ; to work ! — and 
 first let us set about raisino; a scaffolding;. " 
 
 It was done as soon as said, thanks to the dexterity of 
 Berthold and to the zeal which I showed in my functions of 
 amateur assistant. I could not but sufficiently admire the 
 precision, the boldness of touch, and the sureness of hand 
 which advanced surprisingly the work of the artist. 
 
BEP.THOLD, THE MADMAN. 171 
 
 " Master, " said I to him, "it is easy to guess, on seeing 
 you, that you are not ignorant of any of the secrets of your 
 art ; but have you never executed paintings of other kinds 
 than frescoes ? Historical and landscape pieces are in the 
 first rank in the domain of the painter's art ; imagination en- 
 riches them with all its charms, and the cold severity of 
 mathematical lines does not stop at every step the soaring of 
 the artist, as in this false animation that you give to stone by 
 the illusions of perspective." 
 
 Berthold, whilst listening to me, laid aside his pencil ; he 
 leaned his burning forehead upon his hand, and replied to me 
 in a slow and grave tone of voice : 
 
 "Do not prof me the holiness of art, by establishing among 
 its works those degrees of inferioritv which degrade the hum- 
 ble subjects of a despot. The true artist is not always he 
 who, overstepping the limits traced by rule, loses himself in 
 the spheres of the unknown. It is dangerous to attempt to 
 wrestle with the Creator. Recollect, my young friend, the 
 fable of Prometheus. This great artist of the ancient world 
 had stolen the fire of heaven to animate men of clay ; but 
 jou know what his punishment was. God docs not allow the 
 mystery of his power to be penetrated with impunity." 
 
 " But, Berthold," replied I, " what guilty temerity can 
 you find in the re-production of beauty and exterior life, by 
 painting, sculpture, and the other arts of imitation ? " 
 
 " Those are, in truth, but child's play," replied the painter 
 with a bitter smile; "that is a pitiful simplicity which im- 
 agines that anything is created by daubing, with brushes 
 dipped in colors, squares of cloth of all dimensions. Poor 
 madmen are they who allow themselves to be absorbed by such 
 labors ! But when the soul of the artist quits terrestrial 
 regions to spring towards the ideal world, when, a new Prome- 
 theus, he attempts to imprison in the work of his hands some 
 spark ravished from the world of spirits, it is then that an 
 irresistible force draws him into the quicksands, and by a 
 fatal illusion, the devil Pride makes him see at the bottom 
 
172 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 of a gulf the deceitful reflection of the star that his imprudent 
 eye sought for in heaven. " 
 
 Berthold made a pause, passed his hand over his forehead, 
 as if to brush off a cloud ; then, raising his head, he con- 
 tinued : — " What am I talking about ! would I not be better 
 employed in finishing my task, instead of discussing such vain 
 subtleties ? Look, my friend, look at this work ; rule has 
 conducted each line of it • hence what neatness ! what exact- 
 ness ! all this enters into geometrical calculation, whose ap- 
 plication the mind of man can exercise. All which goes be- 
 yond this measure, all which rises to the fantastic, is either a 
 special gift of God or an hallucination of hell. God has 
 communicated to us the secrets of art in proportion to the 
 wants felt by poor humanity. Thus, mechanics produce the 
 movement and the life to create mills and time-pieces, or 
 machines to make cloth. All that is in rule, because it is 
 all useful. And so, quite recently, the professor Aloysius 
 maintained that certain animals were created for the purpose 
 of eating others, and he took for example the cat, whose voracious 
 appetite for mice prevents them from eating up all our candles, 
 and all our sugar. And by my faith, the reverend father 
 was right. I say, myself, that men are, in spite of their 
 vanity, only animals, more skilfully organized than others, to 
 create various products, whose contemplation pleases the un- 
 known master of all that exist. But enough of metaphysics. 
 Hallo ! my friend, pass me those colors ; I yesterday took 
 considerable time to mix them, and I have numbered them 
 with care, so that the flickering of the torches that light my 
 work during the night, should not make me commit errors. 
 Give me number one." 
 
 I hastened to obey. Berthold made me pass in review all 
 his colors, which I handed to him one after another, — a tire- 
 some labor, which would not have preserved me from the 
 desire to sleep, if the artist had not sweetened the toil with 
 one of the most original dissertations, and which he alone 
 bore the burden of, on the subject of all kinds of questions, 
 
BERTHOLD, THE MADMAN. 1 ,' O 
 
 which he destroyed by a running fire of paradoxes, each 
 more strange than the other. When his arm was fatigued 
 more than his tongue, he descended from his scaffolding. 
 The dawn of day began to pierce the shadows, and the light 
 of the wax candles began to grow pale. I cast a last look at 
 Bert-hold's painting ; it was truly something admirable ; — 
 " You are," said I to him, " a strange man, and your work 
 of a night is a thousand times more peifect than the fruits of 
 long studies by our first masters. But one feels, in looking 
 at it, that a burning fever guides your pencil; you are wear- 
 ing out your strength." 
 
 " Grood God ! " exclaimed Berthold, " these hours of labor 
 which are taking away my days are the only happy ones that 
 I count in my sorrowful life." 
 
 " What ! " said I, " can you be tormented by any grief, or 
 pursued by the remembrance of any misfortune ? " 
 
 Berthold gathered together, without saying a word, all his 
 utensils ; he then extinguished the wax candles which had 
 furnished him with light, and, coming back to me, he pressed 
 my hand forcibly, and said, with a fixed look, and in a voice 
 trembling with emotion: — "Would you be able to live a 
 single moment without suffering, if your soul was burthened 
 with the remembrance of an ineffacable crime ?" 
 
 I felt myself chilled with fear on hearing these words, 
 which opened to me revelations hidden from sight in the life 
 of this man. The first light of the rising sun illuminated 
 his face with its ruddy beams, which brought out with more 
 fascination his supernatural paleness. I dared not question 
 him more, and he went out of the church stao-gerins: like a 
 drunken man, through a little door which communicated with 
 the college yard. 
 
 When I found again the professor Aloysius Walter, I 
 hastily related to him my adventure of the past night, the 
 emotion occasioned by which was still impressed on my coun- 
 tenance. He listened to me coldly, and ended by laughing 
 at what he called my sensibility. However, as I earnestly 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 pressed him, for it seemed to me that he knew more than he 
 wished to tell, concerning Berthold, 
 
 " My friend," said he, " this man who appears to yon, at 
 present, so mysterious, is a very mild being, a good workman, 
 and of very regular habits ; but it may be that to his good 
 qualities is joined a weak mind. Formerly he enjoyed quite 
 a reputation as a painter of historical subjects, but since he 
 has got his head crammed with metaphysical nonsense, he is 
 ■ reduced to the poor part of dauber of frescoes. Thus termi- 
 nate, in one manner or another, all those restless minds that 
 attempt to measure the height of intelligence. But since 
 you wish to know something of his private life, come to the 
 church whilst Berthold is resting from his night of labor ; I 
 wish, before all, to show you the preface of my narration. " 
 
 The professor Aloysius then conducted me in front of the 
 veiled picture that I had remarked the evening before ; it 
 was a composition in the style of Raphael, — Mary the Virgin, 
 and Elizabeth, seated in a garden, with Jesus and John, who 
 were playing with flowers at their feet. In the second part, 
 on one side is seen Joseph praying. No words could express 
 the ravishing grace and wholly celestial character of this 
 painting. Unfortunately, the work was unfinished. The 
 face of the Virgin and those of the two children were alone 
 finished ; but that of Elizabeth seemed to await the last touches 
 of the artist : the man who was praying was only sketched. 
 
 •■This picture, " said father Aloysius, "was sent to us, 
 some years ago, from Upper Silesia ; one of our fathers, who 
 was travelling in that country, bought it, by chance, at an 
 auction sale ; and, although it was not finished, we have 
 placed it in this frame, in the place of a poor painting which 
 did not fit it. When Berthold came here to work on the 
 frescoes, he perceived this picture, uttered a cry and fainted. 
 We could not obtain from him any revelation of the reason of 
 its making so powerful an impression on him. But since 
 that time, he never passes near it, and I am the only one to 
 whom he has confided that this painting is his last work of 
 
EEETHOLE, THE MADMAN. 175 
 
 the kind. I have several times tried, but without success, to 
 make him decide upon finishing it ; but he has always re- 
 pulsed my entreaties with marks of a singular aversion ; and 
 as it has even been necessary to distract his attention whilst 
 working here, from a cruel anguish which seems never to 
 leave him, it has been necessary to have this frame veiled, 
 whose aspect caused him, even at a distance, frightful fainting 
 fits." 
 
 ' ' Poor unfortunate I ' ' exclaimed I, with a deep sensation 
 of pity. 
 
 " I think that he is very little to be pitied,'' gravely con- 
 tinued father Aloysius. " This man, I am sure, has been 
 himself his own demon ; for the story of his life does not 
 excuse him. Berthold has made the acquaintance of a young 
 student here ; and in friendly confidence, has told him the 
 greatest part of the secrets of his life. This young man had 
 drawn up a kind of a journal of it, that I found on inspect- 
 ing his papers ; for, in our college, it is neither permitted nor 
 possible to hide anything. I have kept this manuscript, and 
 this evening, not only will I show it to you, but I with pleas- 
 ure make you a gift of it, although I do not suppose that you 
 will find in it any powerful interest." 
 
 Here, kind reader, is what this manuscript contained : — 
 
 "Let your son follow the fancy that urges him towards 
 Italy. His hand is practised enough, his imagination ardent 
 enough, to make the study of the great models of art profita- 
 ble to him. Dresden has been the cradle of the painter ; it is 
 time that Home should be the school where his young inspira- 
 tions shall be purified ; he must go and live the free life of 
 the artist, in the bosom of the country in which all the con- 
 ceptions of the genius of man flourish. The classic soil of 
 the great masters is necessary to the painter, as the influence 
 of the warm sun is necessary to the shrub to develope its 
 foliage and gild its ripe fruits. Tour son carries within him 
 the sacred fire ; let him take a noble flight towards the future." 
 
 " Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar." 
 i; What is to be cannot fail." 
 
170 HOFFMANN \s STKANGE STOKIES. 
 
 Thus spoke one day the old painter, Stephen Birkner, to 
 the parents of Berthold. They sold all that they possessed 
 to furnish the valise of their son with the modest baggage 
 that he needed ; and soon this Raphael in embryo found 
 himself at the height of his wishes. His first essays had 
 given preference to landscape paintings ; but when he found 
 himself at Home, in the midst of artists and amateurs, he 
 heard constantly repeated that historical painting was the only 
 style that merited the name of art, and that all others signified 
 nothing. These exalted opinions, in the midst of which lived 
 young Berthold, joined to the magic effect produced on him 
 by the contemplation of the Vatican frescoes, masterpieces of 
 Raphael Sanzio, decided his new vocation. He set himself 
 about copying, on a reduced scale, the works of the best 
 masters, and was not without encouragement in this dry labor ; 
 but he was unceasingly pursued by the thought that the artist 
 only exists by the originality and life with which he stamps 
 his works. Did he try to sketch a creation, he felt his 
 strength fail him ; the idea, seen for an instant, suddenly fled, 
 and was lost in the misty distance, as soon as he thought that 
 he could seize it, and he found nothing on his canvas but 
 features without character and immovable scenes. The result of 
 these useless stragglings was to throw Berthold into a savage 
 melancholy ; and he went out alone, every day, far from the 
 city, in desert places, and there, in secret, he tried to draw 
 his sketches ; and his grief increased to find that he had even 
 lost much of his facility in this style ; and he began to doubt his 
 vocation and despair for the future. He wrote a very sorrow- 
 ful letter to Birkner : but the old. artist remembered that he 
 had himself passed many days of anxiety and discouragement. 
 
 " Have patience, my son," replied he to Berthold : " he 
 who, filled with a blind presumption, imagines that he can 
 advance in the career of arts progressively, is a poor madman, 
 from whom- there is nothing more to hope. Leave routine to 
 the timid, clear with one bound the common track, and when 
 thou shalt have created a path where none can follow thee, 
 
EEUTIIOLD, THE MADMAN. 177 
 
 when thou shalt have given life to a free work, loosened 
 from the fetters of ordinary rule, thy place will be fixed, and 
 thou wilt see coming towards thee with an even step, both 
 glory and fortune." 
 
 When Berthold received Birkner's letter, an idea suddenly 
 pervaded his mind like a flash of lightning. The reputation of 
 the German landscape painter, Phillip Hackert, was at its 
 height, and the historical painters themselves, envious and 
 exclusive as they might have been, recognized without hesita- 
 tion the extent of his talent. Berthold resolved to go to 
 Naples to become the pupil of so distinguished a master. 
 Hackert welcomed him with that kindness which is the char- 
 acter of true genius, and his young countryman profited so 
 well by his lessons, that he was not long in becoming his 
 rival. Only this, poor Berthold could not hide from himself, 
 that it does not suffice to give exactly the details of trees, of 
 foliage and perspective, or mix skilfully the tints of a sky 
 fringed with warm and gilded vapors ; he understood that his 
 landscapes wanted that something which is admired in the 
 scenes of Claude Lorraine and the beautiful deserts of Salvator 
 Rosa. Berthold inquired of himself every day, if the repu- 
 tation of Hackert was not greater than its value, and if the 
 lessons of the master would not guide the student in a false 
 direction. However, he carefully combat ted these doubts 
 which seemed culpable, and resolutely condemned himself to 
 walk in the footsteps of his model. It happened one day 
 that Hackert requested, that amongst some of his own com- 
 positions, Berthold should expose in public a landscape of 
 considerable dimensions, faithfully copied from nature. All 
 the persons who visited the museum were of unanimous 
 opinion concerning the exquisite perfection of the pictures 
 exposed to their criticism. One man alone, middle aged, 
 and singularly dressed, distinguished himself by his silence 
 from the crowd of lookers on, who distributed their fulsome 
 praises. 
 
 Berthold, who followed his look, observed that wdien he 
 
178 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 arrived before his picture the unknown shook his head doubt- 
 fully, and passed disdainfully on. Vexed, in spite of his 
 natural modesty, by this kind of depreciation, Berthold went: 
 and placed himself before this person, whom he looked upon 
 as an adversary, and said to him, in a tone which showed 
 plainly his ill humor, 
 
 " Would you have the kindness, sir, to point out what you 
 find that shocks you in this composition, so that by the as- 
 sistance of your opinion I may be able to correct it ? " 
 
 The unknown fixed a penetrating glance upon Berthold, 
 and contented himself with replying : 
 
 "Young man, there was in you the material for a great 
 artist ! " 
 
 These words froze the poor pupil of Hackert ; he could 
 not find words to reply, and remained for a long time nailed 
 to the spot. Master Hackert found him still bewildered at 
 this speech. But when Berthold had described the person 
 to him : 
 
 "Ah, good ! " exclaimed the painter, " is that all that 
 grieves thee ? Console thyself, quickly ; for the man who 
 has just spoken to thee is an old grumbler that we are accus- 
 tomed to seeing periodically strolling about. He is a Greek, 
 born at Malta ; he is as rich as he is singular, and under- 
 stands himself passably w r ell in painting ; but the works that 
 he has produced himself, bear the stamp of such singularity, 
 that it can only be attributed to his mania for putting forth at 
 all times the most exaggerated paradoxes. That is the deplor- 
 able system which has rendered both his judgment and his 
 taste false. But I care, indeed, as little for his blame as his 
 praise. My reputation is too old to meet with a check from 
 his caprice. " 
 
 Berthold soon forgot the kind of waminp' of the Maltese ; 
 he set himself to work with renewed vigor ; and to double 
 the success, which his great landscape had obtained, he re- 
 solved to paint its companion. Hackert chose for a subject, 
 one of the finest views in Naples, illumined by the rising sun, 
 
BERTIIOLD, THE MADMAN. ' . 179 
 
 to contrast with the first landscape, which offered an evening 
 H-ene. Now,, one morning that Berthokl, seated on the capi- 
 tal of a ruined column, was finishing, in bold outline, his 
 sketch, he heard a voice near him exclaim, 
 
 " That is well done ! The drawing is perfect ! " 
 
 He raised his eyes, and they met those of the Maltese. 
 
 " You have forgotten onry one thing," continued the latter; 
 "look, that wall, draped with a wild vine, has a gate half 
 open in it ; it would he prodigious to draw skilfully the shadow 
 of that half opened door.' 7 
 
 " You are joking, sir, I see very well," said Berthokl in 
 an ofTeoded tone : " But know that the most trifling details 
 are not to be neglected in a landscape carefully painted. I 
 know, besides, that it is the part you assume, to ridicule this 
 kind of compositions ; so, I beg of you, to cut short all useless 
 discussions, to leave me to pursue my work in peace." 
 
 " Young man," replied the stranger, " your assurance 
 pleases me, and well becomes you ; but remember my first 
 words ; yes, there was in you the material for a great artist, 
 but you are following the wrong direction. I am not the 
 enemy of any branch of art ; both landscape and historical 
 paintings require an equal degree of special qualities. The 
 aim of painters is always the same ; to seize nature, and in 
 fact reproduce at the moment when is best manifested its re- 
 lation with the infinite world ; such is the mission of art ; but 
 servile imitation will never fulfil this condition. A copied 
 painting resembles the transcribing of a text in a foreign 
 language, in which an ignorant copyist would be obliged to 
 imitate the letters of words which he could not read. But the 
 true artist, that is to say the man who feels, draws towards 
 him the divine essence, is penetrated through ail his pores by 
 it, and gives a mysterious life to scenes that he spreads out 
 upon his canvas. Look at the pictures of the old masters ; 
 truly, in admiring them, the spectator does not examine 
 closely to see if the leaves of the pine or linden trees are 
 well distinguished by all the details of their tissues; it is 
 
180 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 the appearance of the whole which touches and entrances him. 
 The mean detail, to his eyes, is no longer art, it is imitation 
 without color, it is mechanism deprived of movement. As 
 to the rest, my friend, I do not seek to turn you from what 
 you believe to be your vocation. I have guessed in you the 
 .slumbering fire of genius, and I have tried to light it up into 
 a real flame. Farewell ! " 
 
 A sudden revolution took place in the thoughts of Berthold, 
 after hearing these words from the mouth of the Maltese, 
 denouncing the direction which he had followed until then, 
 he quitted his master, and gave himself up, without reserve, 
 to all the vagabond habits of a savage life. Seeking to break, 
 by fatigue of the body, the anguish of his mind, he wan- 
 dered from morning until night over the mountain and plain. 
 This forced exercise dissipating gradually the vapors by 
 which he was possessed, he found again the calm which had 
 so long fled from him. In one of these excursions, he became 
 acquainted with two young artists, who, like him, had come 
 from Dresden. One of them, who was named Florentin, 
 occupied himself much less with serious studies than with 
 enriching his portfolio with a quantity of agreeable sketches 
 full of spirit and dramatic movement, in spite of the rapidity 
 of their execution. In looking over these drawings, Berthold 
 felt his soul illumined by a light which he had never before 
 been aware of. The picturesque method of Florentin sin- 
 gularly pleased his intelligence, greedy of knowing and real- 
 izing artistic truth. He set about copying, with a lively 
 pleasure, the sketches of his friend, and succeeded pretty 
 well in reproducing them, although it was impossible for him 
 to give them the life and animation of the originals. What 
 the Maltese had told him came back to his mind, and he 
 related it to Florentin. 
 
 "I am of his opinion," answered Florentin; " I believe, 
 that to arrive at producing the artistic resemblance, it is 
 necessary at first, to familiarize oneself with the types which 
 come the most frequently under our observation. Resign 
 
BERTHOLD, THE M ADM AX. 1 
 
 th} r self to drawing faces, until thou hast acquired assurai a 
 enough to seize the features at once. Thou wilt pass fr 
 that more easily to the reproduction of other objects, and 
 difficulties which afflict thee now, will vanish hnperceptibl 
 
 Berthold profited by the advice of his new friend, and 
 not long in finding himself better for it. But the ardor v 
 which he labored brought on a nervous enthusiasm, dm 
 which he could only produce faces strangely and infini 
 varied ; the type which was in his thought, manifested if 
 on the canvas by a kind of moving profile, whose feati . 
 he could not succeed m fixing. In despair at this exces: 
 •activity, which made his hands operate in spite of his ^ 
 he threw aside both pencil and brush, and returned to 
 wandering life. 
 
 Not far from the city of Naples arose the country hous 
 a rich lord, who declared himself the patron of foreign paint 
 and above all -of landscape painters. Berthold had 1 
 several times to visit this fine domain, from which might 
 seen the magnificent panorama of the sea and Mount Vesm 
 One day that, leaning on the marble balustrade overloo] 
 the park, he was yielding up his thoughts in vain aspirat 
 for fame, he heard a light foot rustling amongst the foli 
 and nearly at the same time a woman of admirable be; 
 appeared before him as if by enchantment. 
 
 A shudder pervaded the veins of Berthold before this ap- 
 parition, which realized for him the ideal of beauty th*t 
 dreams had until then vainly pursued. He fell on his kr. 
 with his hands extended towards this supernatural being who 
 had come to smile upon him ; a cloud passed before his e 
 When he recovered his senses, the apparition, angel, wo 
 or demon, had vanished. But in its place, Berthold perce 
 Florentin. 
 
 " Oh, my friend ! " exclaimed he, " I have found he 
 last, I have seen, and nearly touched, the heavenly unkn 
 who made my thoughts delirious ! " 
 
 At these words, he escaped, before Florentin had been 
 16 
 
Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 *k him a single question, — he runs, he flies, and returning 
 is studio, he throws upon the canvas the features which 
 so strongly moved his soul. This time, guided by enthu- 
 siasm, his hand goes not astray; the sketch is completed, and 
 Aiold recognizes his ideal. Since that day he is no longer 
 same man. The joy of success has poured into all his 
 • es a new life. His mind, purified from its discourage- 
 EQf ts, re-attaches itself with vigor to the study of models; 
 i copying masterpieces he passes to invention, and the 
 dts that he obtains are not less fortunate ; decidedly, he 
 }Is in painting portraits. Landscape was abandoned, and 
 jkert, abandoned, was obliged to confess that his student 
 I finally found his only vocation. From that time fortune 
 vered her favors upon Berthold. He had orders for 
 church paintings, and great lurds disputed amongst themselves 
 for his pictures, at the price of golcL In all the fancy 
 :es that he executed, Berthold always reproduced the 
 ures of his marvellous apparition. It was found that this 
 i bore a striking resemblance to the princess Angiola 
 — ; and the critics took very little care to conceal from 
 ^e who would listen to their opinion, that the young and 
 donable painter was desperately in love with this beautiful 
 y. Berthold often became irritated at these pleasantries,, 
 which seemed to abase his ideal to the mean proportions of a 
 :tal being. 
 
 1 Do you believe," said he, " that there can exist, under 
 sky, so perfect a creature ? No, it is in infinite space 
 t my eye has caught a glimpse of this angel of an unknown 
 •Id ; it is from that hour of ecstacy that my vocation of 
 nter dates ! " 
 
 When the French army, overrunning Italy, from victory 
 
 to victory, following the footsteps of Bonaparte, arrived at 
 
 gates of Naples, a revolutionary movement, caused by 
 
 imminence of the danger, overthrew the whole city 
 
 e King and Queen retreated before the sedition. Tb* 
 
 me minister of the kingdom concluded a dishonorable 
 
b£rtiiold, the madma>v 183 
 
 capitulation with the French general, in consequence of which 
 the commissaries of the enemy's army raised enormous contri- 
 butions. The people arose, the houses of the nobility, suspected 
 of treachery, were pillaged with the cry of "Long live the 
 holy faith ! " Moliterno and Bocca Komana, who directed the 
 municipality, made vain efforts to oppose anarchy. The Duke, 
 de la Torre and Clemens Filomarino, two detested patricians, 
 had just served as victims to the insurrection, and nothing 
 eould be foreseen of the time of duration of this popular 
 reaction. Bertbold, escaped, nearly naked, from his house 
 devoured by the flames, found himself carried forward by a 
 crowd of the armed populace who were going with frightful 
 
 bowlings to the palace of prince T . Xothing could 
 
 withstand these furious men. In a few moments, the prince, 
 his servants and a few friends who had joined him were mas- 
 sacred without pity, and the flames finished what the knife 
 had commenced. Berthold still carried on by this band of 
 robbers, had traversed many rooms in the palace, which a 
 black smoke already filled ; he tried to fly, but found no out- 
 let, when a cry of distress struck upon his ear. He sprang 
 towards it, burst open a door, and sees a woman who is strug- 
 gling beneath the dagger of a beggar. 
 
 " Great God ! it is the princess ! it is the heavenly appari- 
 tion which Berthold had seen but once. A superhuman 
 strength exalted the courage of the exhausted artist ; after a 
 short struggle he overthrows the beggar and stabs him with ■ 
 his own poignard ; then raising in his nervous arms, the 
 beautiful Angiola, he traverses again all the rooms of the 
 palace devoured by the fire, reaches the door, makes his way 
 through the crowd, who gave way before his bloody dagger, 
 and, after having walked a long time at the mercy of chance, 
 he reaches a quarter of the city rendered desert by the affray ; 
 he deposits his precious burden in the corner of a shed, and, 
 broken by so many emotions, fells senseless by the side of 
 Angiola. When he opened his eyes again, the beautiful 
 princess, on her knees at his side, was bathing with water his 
 
184 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 forehead, blackened by the fire and covered with blood and 
 dust. Berthold thought that he was dreaming, but Angiola 
 said to him : 
 
 " My friend, my savior, I recognize thee, thou art Berthold, 
 the celebrated German painter ; thou hast seen me but once 
 before, and thou hast loved me so much, that my features were 
 reproduced under thy pencil in all thy works. Then a great 
 distance separated us, and I could not be thine ; but now, in 
 Naples, destroyed by fire, there is no longer any patricians 
 nor separations required by the pride of rank. Come, Ber- 
 thold, let us fly, let us go and seek a home in thy country : 
 I am thine forever ! " 
 
 The artist was beside himself; so much unexpected happi- 
 ness exceeded his strength ; but love performs miracles, and 
 after many dangers the two fugitives succeeded in escaping 
 from the city without being recognized or pursued. They 
 approached gradually the south of Germany, where Berthold 
 hoped to create, hj his talents, a rich and happy life for 
 
 Angiola. Arrived in the city of M , he resolved to 
 
 establish, at one trial, his reputation, by painting a large 
 church picture. He chose for his subject, the Virgin Mary 
 and Elizabeth having at their feet the child Jesus and St. 
 John. This composition was very simple ; but this time the 
 artist had lost his power. His ideas had become confused 
 again ; he did nothing but commence and efface without any 
 success. The face of the Virgin had, in spite of him, features 
 of terrestrial beauty ; it was the face of Angiola, but de- 
 prived of all its poetry. The beautiful Neapolitan sat to him 
 in all the brilliancy of her charms ; the painter only succeeded 
 in fixing on the canvas nothing but waxen tints, with mourn- 
 ful and glassy eyes. Then his melancholy attacked him 
 again with unheard of pains ; the loss of his talent plunged 
 him into frightful misery, which was augmented by the birth 
 of a son. Misery leads, by a fatal drag, either to crime or 
 madness. Berthold took an aversion to his poor wife, who 
 nevertheless, did not complain ; and as suffering and priva- 
 tions had faded her attractions : 
 
BERTHOLD, THE MADMAN. 185 
 
 " No;" said he to himself one day, " this is not the ideal 
 being that I saw ; this cursed creature took for a time her 
 celestial form to seduce me and draw me into her snares ! 
 This is not a woman, it is a demon ! " 
 
 And the miserable man, a prey to fits of delirium, made 
 use of such cruel treatment towards Angiola and her child, 
 that the neighbors became indignant and denounced him to 
 the magistrate. Berthold, warned that they were coming to 
 arrest him, disappeared from his garret with his wife and 
 child. They were tunable, at first, to find out what had be- 
 come of him. Sometime afterwards he came to N , in 
 
 Upper Silesia. But he ^vas alone then, and he undertook to 
 recommence the picture of the Virgin ; but he could not 
 succeed in finishing it. A languishing disease was carrying 
 him to the grave step by step. It was necessary for him, in 
 order to exist, and pay for some remedies, to sell the last of 
 his property, and even his unfinished picture, which were sold 
 at auction by a picture dealer. Death was not yet ready for 
 Berthold. When he had recovered some strength, he went 
 aiway begging his bread, from door to door, and paying his 
 trifling expenses by painting signs. 
 
 Here the manuscript given me by professor Aloysius. Walter 
 ended. I concluded that the unfortunate Berthold, become 
 mad with misery, had assinated his wife and child, to get rid 
 of their support. However, as nothing after all, authorized 
 sucti a belief, I felt a lively curiosity to interrogate him 
 adroitly in one of his moments of good humor, to which he 
 sometimes gave himself up when his labor went to his liking. 
 
 I went back to the church ; he was, as formerly, perched 
 on his scaffolding, looking gloomy and absent ; he was sketch- 
 ing on the wall tints of rose marbling. I went up and placed 
 myself beside him, to officiously hand him his colors ; and as 
 he looked at me with surprise :— " J^m I not," said I to him 
 in a low voice, "your last night's companion, whom you ac- 
 cepted in the place of that lazy fellow Christian ? " 
 16* 
 
18G Hoffmann's stkaxge stories. 
 
 At these words, I saw his lips contract into a smile. This 
 appearing to me to be a good omen, I risked the conversa- 
 tion on the adventures of his life. I reached, by long turn- 
 ings, that I considered very adroit, to the confidence so greed- 
 ily hoped for, of the fatal winding up, and to lead to an 
 avowal, I said to him suddenly : — It was then in a fit of 
 fever that you killed your wife and child ? 
 
 The thunder falling from heaven, would not have produced 
 a like effect. Berthold dropped his brushes, and, after throw- 
 ing on me a horrible look, raised his hands towards heaven 
 and cried out : 
 
 " I am pure of the blood of my wife and my child. But 
 if you say another word more, I will throw myself with you 
 down to the floor of the church ! " 
 
 At this threat, feeling very little reassured, and fearing that 
 in a fit of remorse he might wish to kill himself, and draw me 
 with him to the tomb, I rapidly turned the conversation. 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed I, with all the assurance I could' 
 affect, ' ' look Berthold, how that ugly yellow color runs down 
 the wall ! " And whilst master Berthold turned round to wipe 
 off the color with his largest brush, I gained the ladder, ta 
 put myself out of the reach of the dangerous caprices of the 
 Jesuit painter. Some hours after, I took leave of the profes- 
 sor Aloysius Walter, making him promise to keep me informed 
 by letter, of what he could learn new concerning Berthold. 
 
 Six moiiths after my journey, he wrote to me : 
 
 "Our strange artist has finished his reparations of the 
 church, and put the last touches to the picture of the Virgin 
 Mary, of which, he has made a finished piece. Then he dis- 
 appeared • and $g two days after his departure they found his 
 
 hat and stick on the banks of the river , everybody 
 
 here believes that the poor devil put an end to his misery by 
 suicide. Brfcy for bim. ' ' 
 

 
 COPPELITJS, THE SANDMAN. 
 
 Certainly you must all be uneasy that I have not written 
 for so long— so very long. My mother, I am sure, is angry, 
 and Clara will believe that I am passing my time in dissipa- 
 tion, entirely forgetful of the fair angel-image that is so deeply 
 imprinted in my heart and mind. Such, however, is not the 
 case. Daily and hourly I think of you all, and in my sweet 
 dreams the kindly form of my lovely Clara passes before me, 
 and smiles upon me with her bright eyes, as she was wont 
 when I appeared among you. Alas, how could I write to 
 you in the distracted mood which has hitherto disturbed my 
 every thought ! Something horrible has crossed my path of 
 life. Dark forebodings of a cruel, threatening fate, spread 
 themselves over me like dark clouds, which no friendly sun- 
 beam can penetrate. Now will I tell } T ou what has befallen 
 me. I must do so, that I plainly see — but if I only think of 
 it, it will laugh out of me like mad. Ah, my dear Lothaire, 
 how shall I begin it ? How sliall I make you in any way 
 sensible that that which occurred to me a few days ago could 
 really have such a fatal effect on my life I If you were here 
 you could see " for yourself, but now you will certainly take 
 me for a crazy ghost-seer. In a word, the horrible thing 
 which happened to me, and the painful impression of which I 
 in vain endeavored to escape, is nothing more than this ; that 
 some days ago, namely, 011 the 30th of October, at twelve 
 o'clock at noon, a barometer-dealer came into my room and 
 
188 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 offered me his wares. I bought nothing, and threatened to 
 throw him down stairs, upon which he took himself off of his 
 own accord. 
 
 You suspect that only relations of the most peculiar kind, 
 and exerting the greatest influence over my life, can give any 
 import to this occurrence, nay, that the person of that un- 
 lucky dealer must have a hostile effect upon me. So it is, 
 indeed. I collect myself with all my might, that patiently 
 mid quietly I may tell you so much of my early youth as will 
 bring all plainly and clearly in bright images before your 
 active mind. As I am about to begin, I fancy that I 
 hear you laughing and Clara saying : " Childish stories, 
 indeed! " Laugh at me I beseech you, laugh with all your 
 heart. But, heavens, my hair stands on end, and it seems as 
 if I am asking you to laugh at me, in mad despair, as Franz 
 Moor asked Daniel.* But to my story. 
 
 Excepting at dinner time, I and my brothers and my sisters 
 saw my father very little during the day. He was, perhaps, 
 ^busily engaged at his ordinary occupation. After supper, 
 which, according to the old custom, was served up at seven 
 o'clock, we all went with my mother into my father's work- 
 room, and seated ourselves at the round table. My father 
 smoked tobacco and drank a large glass of beer. Often he 
 told us a number of wonderful stories, and grew so warm 
 over them that his pipe continually went out. I had to light 
 it again, with burning paper, which I thought great sport. 
 Often, too, he would give us picture-books, and sit in his arm 
 chair silent and thoughtful, puffing out such thick clouds of 
 smoke, that we all seemed to be swimming in the clouds. On 
 such evenings as these my mother was very melancholy, and 
 immediately after the clock struck nine, she would say : " Now 
 children, to bed — to bed ! The Sandman is coming, I can 
 see." And certainly on all these occasions I heard some- 
 thing with a heavy, slow step go bouncing up the stairs. 
 
 * Two characters in Schiller's play of " Die Rauber." 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. ■ 189 
 
 That I thought must be the Sandman. Once that dull noise 
 and footstep were particularly fearful, and I asked my mother, 
 while she took us away : " Eh, mamma, who is this naughty 
 Sandman, who always drives us away from papa ? What 
 does he look like?" "There is no Sandman, dear child/ ' 
 replied my mother. "When I say the Sandman comes, I 
 only mean that you are sleepy and cannot keep your eyes 
 open — just as if sand had been sprinkled into them." This 
 answer of my mother's did not satisfy me — nay, in my child- 
 ish mind the thought soon matured itself, that she only denied 
 the existence of the Sandman to hinder us from being terrified 
 at him. Certainly I always heard him coming up the stairs. 
 Full of curiosity to hear more of this Sandman, and his par- 
 ticular connection with children, I at last asked the old woman 
 who tended my youngest sister, what sort of man he was. 
 " Eh, Natty," said she, " do you not know that yet? He is 
 a wicked man, who comes to children when they will not go 
 to bed, and throws a handful of sand into their eyes, so that 
 they start out bleeding from their heads. These eyes he 
 puts in a bag and carries them to the half-moon to feed his 
 own children, who sit in the nest up yonder, and have crooked 
 beaks like owls, with which they may pick up the eyes of the 
 naughty human children." 
 
 A most frightful image of the cruel Sandman was horribly 
 depicted in my mind, and when in the evening I heard the 
 noise on the stairs, I trembled with agony and alarm. My 
 mother could get nothing out of me, but the cry of " The 
 Sandman, the Sandman!" which was stuttered forth through 
 my tears. I then ran into the bed-room, where the frightful 
 apparition of the Sandman terrified me during the whole 
 night. I had already grown old enough to perceive that the 
 nurse's tale about the Sandman and the nest of children in 
 the half-moon, could not be quite true, but, nevertheless, this 
 Sandman remained a fearful spectre, and I was seized with 
 the utmost horror, when I heard him not only come up the 
 stairs, but violently force open my father's room-door and 
 
100 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 enter. Sometimes he staid away for a long period, but oftener 
 his visits were in close succession. This lasted for years, and 
 I could not accustom myself to the terrible goblin ; the 
 image of the dreadful Sandman did not become more faint. 
 His intercourse with my father began more and more to occu* 
 py my fancy. An unconquerable fear prevented me from 
 asking my father about it, but if I— I myself could penetrate 
 the mystery and behold the wondrous Sandman — ?that was the 
 wish which grew upon me with years. The Sandman had 
 brought me into the path of the marvellous and wonderful, 
 which so readily finds a domicil in the mind of a child. 
 Nothing was to me more delightful than to read or hear hoi> 
 rible stories of goblins, witches, pigmies, &c. ; but above 
 them all stood the Sandman, whom, in the oddest and most 
 frightful shapes, I was always drawing with chalk or charcoal 
 on the tables, cupboards, and walls. When I was ten years 
 old, my mother removed me from the children's room into a 
 little chamber, situated in a corridor near my father's room \ 
 Still, as before, we were obliged speedily to take our de- 
 parture as soon as, on the stroke of nine, the unknown was 
 heard in the house. I could hear in my little chamber how 
 he entered my father's room, and then it soon appeared to 
 me that a thin vapor of a singular odor diffused itself about 
 the house. Stronger and stronger with my curiosity grew my 
 resolution to form in some manner the Sandman's acquaint- 
 ance. Often I sneaked from my room to the corridor, when 
 my mother had passed, but never could I discover any thing, 
 for the Sandman had always gone in at the door when I 
 reached the place where I might have seen him. At last, 
 urged by an irresistible impulse, I resolved to hide myself 
 in my father's room and await the appearance of the Sand- 
 man. 
 
 By the silence of my father, and the melancholy of my 
 mother, I perceived one evening that the Sandman was coming, 
 I therefore feigned great weariness, left the room before 
 nine o'clock, and hid myself in a corner close to the door P 
 
COPPELIUS, fHE SANDMAN. 191 
 
 The hottse-door creaked, and the heavy, slow, groaning step 
 went through the passage and towards the stairs. My mother 
 passed me with the rest of the children. Softly, very softly; 
 I opened the door of my father's room. He sat as usually, stiff 
 and silent, with his back turned to the door. He did not 
 perceive me, and I swiftly darted into the room arid behind 
 the curtain, drawn before an open press, which stood, close to 
 the door, and in which my father's clothes were hanging. 
 The steps sounded nearer and nearer-*— there was a strange 
 coughing and scraping and murmuring without. My heart 
 trembled with anxiety and expectation. A sharp step close — - 
 very close to the door — a smart stroke on the latch, and the 
 door was open with a rattling noise. Screwing up my cour- 
 age with ail my might, I cautiously peeped out. The Sand- 
 man was standing before my father in the middle of the room j 
 the light of the candles shone full upon his face. The Sand- 
 man, the fearful Sandman, was the old advocate Coppelius, 
 who had often dined with us. 
 
 But the most hideous form could not have inspired me with 
 deeper horror than this very Coppelius. Imagine a large 
 broad-shouldered man, with a head disproportionately big, a 
 face the color of yellow ochre, a pair of grey bushy eye-brows, 
 from beneath which a pair of green cat's eyes sparkled with 
 the most penetrating lustre, and with a large nose curved 
 over his upper lip. His wry mouth was often twisted into a 
 malicious laugh, when a couple of dark red spots appeared 
 upon his cheeks, and a strange hissing sound was heard 
 through his compressed teeth. Coppelius always appeared in 
 an ashen-grey coat, cut in old-fashioned style, with waistcoat 
 and breeches of the same color, while his stockings were 
 black, and his shoes adorned with buckles set with precious 
 stones. The little peruke scarcely reached further than the 
 crown of his head, the curls stood high above his large red 
 ears, and a broad hair-bag projected stiffly from his neck, so 
 that the silver buckle which fastened his folded cravat might 
 be plainly seen. The whole figure was hideous and repulsive, 
 
192 
 
 but most disgusting to us children were his coarse brown 
 hairy fists ; indeed, we did not like to eat what he had touched 
 with them. This he had remarked, and it was his delight, 
 under some pretext or other, to touch a piece of cake, or some 
 nice fruit, that our kind mother might privately have put in 
 our plate, in order that we, with tears in our eyes, might, 
 from disgust and abhorrence, no longer be able to enjoy the 
 treat intended for us. He acted in the same manner on holi- 
 days, when my father gave us a little glass of sweet wine. 
 Then would he swiftly draw his fist over it, or perhaps he 
 would even raise the glass to his blue lips, and laugh most dev- 
 ilishly, when we could only express our indignation by soft 
 sobs. He always called us the little beasts ; we dared not 
 utter a sound when he was present, and we heartily cursed 
 the ugly, unkind man, who deliberately marred our slightest 
 pleasures. My mother seemed to hate the repulsive Cop- 
 pelius as much as we did, since as soon as he showed himself, 
 her liveliness, her free and cheerful mind were changed into a 
 gloomy solemnity. My father conducted himself towards him, 
 as though he was a superior being, whose bad manners were 
 to be tolerated, and who was to be kept in good humor at any 
 rate. He need only give the slightest hint, and the favorite 
 dishes were cooked, and the choicest wines served. 
 
 When I now saw this Coppelius, the frightful and terrific 
 thought took possession of my soul, that indeed no one but 
 he could be the Sandman. But the Sandman was no longer 
 that bugbear of a nurse's tale, who provided the owl's nest 
 in the half-moon with children's eyes, — no, he was a hideous 
 spectral monster, who, wherever he appeared, brought with 
 him grief, want and destruction — temporal and eternal. 
 
 I was rivetted to the spot as if enchanted. At the risk of 
 being discovered, and as I plainly foresaw, of being severely 
 punished, I remained with my head peeping through the cur- 
 tain. My father received Coppelius with solemnity. " Now 
 to our work ! " cried the latter with a harsh, grating voice, 
 as he flung off his coat. My father silently and gloomily 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 193 
 
 drew off his night-gown, and both attired themselves in long 
 black frocks. Whence they took these, I did not see. My 
 father opened the door of what I had always thought to be a 
 cupboard, but I now saw that it was no cupboard, but rather 
 a black hollow, in which there was a little hearth. Coppelius 
 entered, and a blue flame began to crackle up on the hearth. 
 All sorts of strange utensils lay around. Heavens ! — As 
 my old father now stooped down to the fire, he looked quite 
 another man. A frightful convulsive pain seemed to have 
 distorted his mild reverend features into a hideous, repulsive, 
 diabolical countenance. He looked like Coppelius : the latter 
 was brandishing red hot tongs, and with them taking shining 
 masses busily out of the thick smoke, which he afterwards 
 hammered. It seemed to me, as if I saw human faces around 
 without any eyes — but with deep holes instead. "Eyes here, 
 eyes ! " said Coppelius in a dull roaring voice. Overcome 
 by the wildest terror, I shrieked out, and fell from my hiding 
 place upon the floor. Coppelius seized me, and showing his 
 teeth, bleated out, " Ah — little wretch, — little wretch ! " — 
 then dragging me up, he flung me on the hearth, where the 
 fire began to singe my hair. " Now we have eyes enough — 
 a pretty pair of child's eyes." Thus whispered Coppelius, 
 and taking out of the flame some red-hot grains with his fists, 
 he was about to sprinkle them in my eyes. My father, upon 
 this, raised his hands in supplication, and cried : " Master, 
 master, leave my Nathaniel his eyes ! " 
 
 Coppelius uttered a yelling laugh, and said : . " Well, let 
 
 the lad have his eyes, and cry his share in the world, but we 
 
 the mechanism of his hands and feet. And 
 
 >rcibly that my joints cracked, and 
 
 d feet, and put them on again, one 
 
 ]very thing is not right here ! — As 
 
 one has understood it ! " So did 
 
 Coppelius say, in a hissmg, lisping tone, but all around me 
 
 became black and dark, a sudden cramp darted through my 
 
 bones and nerves — and I lost all feeling. A gentle warm 
 16 
 
194 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 breath passed over my face ; I awoke as out of a sleep of 
 death. My mother had been stooping over me. " Is the 
 Sandman yet there? " I stammered. " No, no, my dear 
 child, he has gone away long ago, — he will not hurt you ! " 
 So said my mother, and she kissed and embraced her recover- 
 ing darling. 
 
 Why should I weary you, my dear Loth aire ! Why 
 should I be so diffuse with details, when I have so much 
 more to tell. Suffice it to say, that I had been discovered 
 while watching, and ill-used by Coppelius. Agony and terror 
 had brought on delirium and fever, of which I lay sick for 
 several weeks. " Is the Sandman still there ? " That was 
 my first sensible word and the sign of my amendment — my 
 recovery. I can now only tell you, the most frightful moment 
 in my juvenile years. Then you will be convinced that it is 
 no fault of my eyes, that all to me seems colorless, but that a 
 dark fatality has actually suspended over my life a gloomy 
 veil of clouds, which I shall, perhaps, only tear away in death. 
 
 Coppelius was no more to be seen ; it was said he had left 
 the town. 
 
 About a year might have elapsed, when, according to the 
 old custom, we sat at the round table. My father was very 
 cheerful, and told much that was entertaining, about his 
 travels in his youth ; when, as the clock struck nine, w t o 
 heard the house-door creak on the hinges, and slow steps, 
 heavy as iron, groaned through the passage and up stairs. 
 " That is Coppelius," said my mother, turning pale. " Yes ! 
 that is Coppelius ! " repeated my father, with a faint broken 
 voice. The tears started from my mother's ey<^ " T> - J - 
 father — father ! " she cried, " must i 
 
 " He comes to me for the last time. I pr< 
 the answer. " Only go now — go with 
 to bed. Good night ! " 
 
 I felt as if I were pressed into coid, neavy stone, — my 
 breath was Stopped. My mother caught me by the arm as I 
 stood immovable. " Come, come, Nathaniel ! " I allowed 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 195 
 
 myself to be led, and entered my chamber ! "Be quiet — 
 be quiet — go to bed — go to sleep ! " cried my mother after 
 me ; but tormented by restlessness, and an inward anguish 
 perfectly indescribable, I could not close my eyes. The 
 hateful, abominable Coppelius stood before me with fiery 
 eyes, and laughed at me maliciously. It was in vain that I 
 endeavored to get rid of his image. About midnight there 
 was a frightful noise, like the firing of a gun. The whole 
 house resounded. There was a rattling and a rustling by my 
 door, and the house-door was closed with a violent sound. 
 u That is Coppelius ! " I cried, and I sprang out of bed in 
 terror. There was then a shriek as if of acute inconsolable 
 grief. I darted into my father's room ; the door was open, a 
 suftocatino; smoke rolled towards me, and the servant girl 
 cried : 
 
 "Ah, my master, my master ! " On the floor of the 
 smoking hearth lay my father dead, with his face burned and 
 blackened, and hideously distorted, — my sisters were shrieking 
 and moaning around him, — and my mother had fainted. 
 " Coppelius ! — cursed Satan, thou hast slain my father I" I 
 cried, and lost my senses. When, two days afterwards, my 
 father was laid in his coffin, his features were again as mild 
 and gentle as they had been in his life. My soul was com- 
 forted by the thought that his compact with the devilish Cop- 
 pelius could not have plunged him into eternal perdition. 
 
 The explosion had awakened the neighbors, the occurrence 
 had become the common talk, and had reached the ears of 
 the magistracy, who wished to make Coppelius answerable. 
 He had, however, vanished from the spot, without leaving a 
 trace. 
 
 If I tell you, my dear friend, that the barometer-dealer was 
 the accursed Coppelius himself, you will not blame me for 
 regarding a phenomenon so unpropitious as boding some heavy 
 calamity. He was dressed differently, but the figure and 
 features of Coppelius are too deeply imprinted in my mind, 
 for an error in this respect to be possible. Besides, Coppelius 
 
196 hoffmann' s strange stories. 
 
 has not even altered his name. As I hear, he gives himself 
 out as a Piedmontese optician, and calls himself Giuseppe 
 Coppola. 
 
 I am determined to cope with him, and to avenge my 
 father's death, be the issue what it may. 
 
 Tell my mother nothing of the hideous monster's appear- 
 ance. Remember me to my dear sweet Clara, to whom I will 
 write in a calmer mood. — Farewell. 
 
 Clara to Nathaniel. 
 
 It is true that you have not written to me for a long time, 
 but nevertheless I believe that I am still in your mind and 
 thoughts. For assuredly you were thinking of me most in- 
 tently, when, designing to send your last letter to my brother 
 Lothaire, you directed it to me, instead of him. I joyfully 
 opened the letter, and did not perceive my error till I came 
 to the words : "Ah, my dear Lothaire." Now, by rights I 
 should have read no farther, but should have handed over the 
 letter to my brother. Although you have often in your 
 childish teasing mood, charged me with having such a quiet, 
 womanish, steady disposition, that like the lady, even if the 
 house were about to fall in, I should smoothe down a wrong 
 fold in the window curtain before I ran away, I can hardly 
 tell you how your letter shocked me. I could scarcely breathe, 
 — my eyes became dizzy. Ah; my dear Nathaniel, how could 
 such a horrible event have crossed your life ? To be parted 
 from you, never to see you again — the thought darted through 
 my breast like a burning dagger. I read and read. Your 
 description of the repulsive Coppelius is terrific. For the 
 first time I learned how your good old father died a shocking 
 violent death. My brother Lothaire, to whom I gave up the 
 letter as his property, sought to calm me, but in vain. The 
 fatal barometer-maker, Giuseppe Coppola, followed me at 
 efvery step, and I am almost ashamed to confess that he dis- 
 turbed my healthy, and generally peaceful sleep, with all 
 sorts of horrible visions. Yet soon,-*-even the next day, I 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 197 
 
 was quite changed again. Do not "be offended, dearest one, 
 if Lothaire tells you, that in spite of your strange misgiving, 
 that Coppelius will in some manner injure you, I am in the 
 same cheerful unembarrassed frame of mind as ever. 
 
 I will honestly confess to you that, according to my opinion, 
 all the terrible things of which you speak, merely occurred in 
 your own mind, and that the actual external world had little 
 to do with them. Old Coppelius may have been repulsive 
 enough, but his hatred of children was what really caused the 
 abhorrence of your children towards him. 
 
 In your childish mind the frightful Sandman in the nurse's 
 tale was naturally associated with old Coppelius, who, even if 
 you had not believed in the Sandman, would still have been 
 a spectral monster, especially dangerous to children. The 
 awful nightly occupation with your father, was no more than 
 this, that both made alchemical experiments, and with these 
 your mother was constantly dissatisfied, since, besides a great 
 deal of money being uselessly wasted, your father's mind 
 being filled with a fallacious desire after higher wisdom, was 
 alienated from his family — as they say is always the case with 
 such experimentalists. Your father, no doubt, by some act 
 of carelessness, occasioned his own death, of which Coppelius 
 was completely guiltless. Would you believe it, that I, yes- 
 terday, asked our neighbor, the clever apothecary, whether 
 such a sudden and fatal explosion was possible in such chemi- 
 cal experiments ? " Certainly," he replied, and in his way 
 told me at great length, and very circumstantially, how such 
 an event might take place, uttering a number of strange- 
 sounding names, which I am unable to recollect. Now, I 
 know you will be angry with your Clara ; you will say that 
 her cold disposition is impenetrable to every ray of the mys- 
 terious, which often embraces man with invisible arms, that 
 she only sees the variegated surface of the world, and has the 
 delight of a silly child, at some gold-glittering fruit, which 
 contains within it a deadly poison. 
 
 Ah ! my dear Nathaniel ! Bo you not then believe that 
 
198 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 even in free, cheerful, careless minds, there may dwell the 
 suspicion of some dread power, which endeavors to destroy us 
 in our own selves ? Forgive me, if I, a silly girl, presume 
 in any manner to indicate what I really think of such an 
 internal struggle ; I shall not find out the right words after 
 all, and you will laugh at me, not because my thoughts are 
 foolish, but because I set about so clumsily to express them. 
 
 If there is a dark power, which with such enmity and 
 treachery lays a thread within us, by which it holds us fast, 
 and draws us along a path of peril and destruction, which we 
 should not otherwise have trod ; if, I say, there is such a 
 power, it must form itself within us, or from ourselves ; 
 indeed, become identical with ourselves, for it is only in this 
 condition that we can believe in it, and grant it the room 
 which it requires* to accomplish its secret work. Now, if we 
 have a mind, which is sufficiently firm, sufficiently strength- 
 ened by cheerful life, always to recognize this strange hostile 
 operation as such, and calmly to follow the path which belongs 
 to our inclination and calling, then will the dark power fail in 
 its attempt to gain a power, that shall be a reflection of our- 
 selves. Lothaire adds that it is certain, that the dark physi- 
 cal power, if, of our own accord, we have yielded ourselves 
 up to it, often draws within us some strange form, which the 
 external world has thrown in our way, so that we, ourselves, 
 kindle the spirit, which, as we in our strange delusion 
 believe, speaks to us in that form. It is the phantom of our 
 own selves, the close relationship with which, and its deep 
 operation on our mind, casts us into hell, or transports us into 
 heaven. You see, dear Nathaniel, that I and my brother 
 Lothaire have freely given our opinion on the subject of dark 
 powers, which subject, now I find I have not been able to 
 write down the chief part without trouble, appears to me 
 somewhat deep. Lothaire 's last words I do not quite com- 
 prehend. I can only suspect what he means, and yet I feel 
 as if it were all very true. I beg of you, get the ugly advo- 
 cate Coppelius, and the barometer-seller, Giuseppe Coppola, 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 199 
 
 quite out of your head. Be convinced that these strange 
 fears have no power over you, and that it is only a belief in 
 their hostile influence that can make them hostile in reality. 
 If the great excitement of your mind did not speak from 
 every line of your letter, if your situation did not give me 
 the deepest pain, I could joke about the Sandman-Advocate, 
 and the barometer-seller, Coppelius. Be cheerful, I have 
 determined to appear before you as your guardian-spirit, and 
 if the ugly Coppelius takes it into his head to annoy you in 
 your dreams, to scare him away with loud peals of laughter. 
 I am not a bit afraid of him nor of his disgusting hands ; he 
 shall neither spoil my sweetmeats as an advocate, nor my 
 eyes as a sandman. Ever yours, my dear Nathaniel. 
 
 Nathaniel to Lothaire. 
 
 I am very sorry that in consequence of the error occasioned 
 by my wandering state of mind, Clara broke open the letter 
 intended for you, and read it. She has written me a very 
 profound philosophical epistle, in which she proves, at great 
 length, that Coppelius and Coppola only exist in my own 
 mind, and are phantoms of myself, which will be dissipated 
 directly when I recognize them as such. Indeed, one could not 
 believe that the mind which often peers out of those bright 
 smiling, childish eyes, like a sweet charming dream, could 
 define with such intelligence, in such a professor-like manner. 
 She appeals to you — you, it seems have been talking about 
 me. I suppose you read her logical lectures, that she may 
 learn to divide and sift every thing acutely. Pray leave it 
 off. Besides, it is quite certain that the barometer-dealer, 
 Giuseppe Coppola, is not the advocate Coppelius. I attend 
 the lectures of the professor of physics, who has lately ar- 
 rived. His name is the same as that of the famous natural 
 philosopher, Spalanzani, and he is of Italian origin. He has 
 known Coppola for years, and moreover, it is clear from his 
 accent that he is really a Piedmontese. Coppelius was a 
 German, but I think no honest one. Calmed I am not, and 
 
200 Hoffmann's stkaxge stories. 
 
 though you and Clara may consider nic a gloomy visionary, I 
 cannot get rid of the impression, which the accursed face of 
 Coppelius makes upon me. I am glad that Coppelius has 
 left the town, as Spalanzani says. This professor is a strange 
 fellow — a little round man, with high cheek bones, a sharp 
 nose, pouting lips, and little piercing eyes. Yet you will get 
 a better notion of him than by this description, if you look at 
 the portrait of Cagliostro, designed by Chodowiecki, in one of 
 the Berlin annuals ; Spalanzani looks like that exactly. I 
 lately went up stabs, and perceived that the curtain, which 
 was generally drawn completely over a glass door, left a little 
 opening on one side. I know not what curiosity impelled me 
 to look through ; a tall and very slender lady, most symmetri- 
 cally formed, and most splendidly attired, sat in the room by 
 a little table, on which she had laid her arms, her hands being 
 folded together. She sat opposite to the door, so that I could 
 completely see her angelic countenance. She did not appear 
 to see me, and indeed there was something fixed about her eyes 
 as if, I might almost say, she had no power of sight. It 
 seemed to me that she was sleeping with her eyes open. I 
 felt very uncomfortable, and therefore I slunk away into the 
 auditorium, which was close at hand. Afterwards I learned 
 that the form I had seen was that of Spalanzani' s daughter, 
 Olympia, whom he kept confined in a very strange and im- 
 proper manner, so that no one could approach her. After all, 
 there may be something the matter with her ; she is silly, 
 perhaps, or something of the kind. But why should I write 
 you all this ? I could have conveyed it better and more cir- 
 cumstantially by word of mouth. Know that I shall see you 
 in a fortnight. I must again behold my dear, sweet angelic 
 Clara. The ill-humor will then be dispersed, which, I must 
 confess, has endeavored to get the mastery over me, since 
 that fatal, sensible letter. Therefore I do not write to her 
 to-day. A thousand greetings, &c. > _ 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 201 
 
 Nothing more strange and chimerical can be imagined than 
 that which occurred to my poor friend, the young student 
 Nathaniel, and which I, gracious reader, have undertaken to 
 tell you. Have you, kind reader, ever known a something 
 that has completely filled your heart, thoughts and senses, 
 so as to exclude every thing else ? There was in you a fer- 
 mentation and a boiling, and your blood, inflamed to the hot- 
 test glow, bounded through your veins, and gave a higher 
 color to your cheeks. Your glance was so strange, as if you 
 wished to perceive, in empty space, forms which to no other 
 eyes are visible, and your speech flowed away into dark sighs. 
 Then your friends asked you : " What is it, revered one ? " 
 " What is the matter, dear one." And now you wished to 
 express the internal picture with all its glowing tints, with all 
 its light and shade, and labored hard to find words only to 
 begin. You thought that in the very first word you ought to 
 crowd together all the wonderful, noble, horrible, comical, 
 frightful, that had happened, so that it might strike all the 
 hearers at once like an electric shock. But every word, every 
 thing that is in the form of speech, appeared to you colorless, 
 cold and dead. You hunt and hunt, stutter and stammer, 
 and the sober questions of your friends dart like icy breezes 
 upon your internal fire until it is ready to go out ; whereas 
 if, like a bold painter, you had first with a few daring strokes 
 drawn an outline of the internal picture, you might with 
 small trouble, have laid on the colors brighter and brighter, 
 and the living throng of various forms would have carried 
 your friends along with it, and they, like you, would have 
 seen themselves in the picture that had proceeded from your 
 mind. Now I must confess to you, kind reader, that no one 
 has really asked me for the history of the young Nathaniel, 
 but you know well enough that I belong to the queer race of 
 authors, who, if they have anything in their mind, such as I 
 have just described, feel as if every one who comes near them, 
 and indeed perhaps the whole world besides, is asking them : 
 " What is it then — tell it, my dear friend ? " Thus was I 
 
202 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 forcibly compelled to tell you of the momentous life of Na- 
 thaniel. The singularity and marvellousness of the story 
 filled my entire soul, but for that very reason and because, 
 my reader, I had to make you equally inclined to endure 
 oddity, which is no small matter, I tormented myself to begin 
 the history of Nathaniel in a manner as inspiring, original 
 and striking as possible. " Once upon a time," the begin- 
 ning of every tale, was too tame. " In the little provincial 
 
 town of S lived " — was somewhat better, as it at least 
 
 prepared for the climax. Or should I dart at once medias in 
 res, with " Go to the devil, cried the student Nathaniel, with 
 rage and horror in his wild looks, when the barometer-seller, 
 Giuseppe Coppola?'' I had, indeed, already written this 
 down, when I fancied that, in the wild looks of the student 
 Nathaniel, I could detect something ludicrous, whereas the 
 story is not comical at all. No form of language suggested 
 itself to my mind, which even in the slightest degree seemed 
 to reflect the coloring of the internal picture. I resolved 
 that I would not begin it at all. So take, gentle reader, the 
 three letters, which friend Lotharie was good enough to give 
 me, as the sketch of the picture which I shall endeavor to 
 color more and more as I proceed in my narrative. Perhaps, 
 like a good portrait painter, I may succeed in catching many 
 a form in such a manner, that you will find it is a likeness 
 without having the original, and feel as if you had seen the 
 person with your own corporeal eyes. Perchance, dear reader, 
 you will believe that nothing is stranger and madder than 
 actual life, and that this is all the poet can conceive, as it 
 were in the dull reflection of a dimly polished mirror. 
 
 In order that that which is necessary in the first place to 
 to know, may be made clearer, we must add to these letters 
 the circumstance, that shortly after the death of Nathaniel's 
 father, Clara and Lothaire, the children of a distant relative, 
 who had likewise died, and left them orphans, were taken by 
 Nathaniel's mother to her own home. Clara and Nathaniel 
 formed a strong attachment for each other, and no one in the 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 203 
 
 world Laving any objection to make, they were betrothed , 
 
 when Nathaniel left the place to pursue his studies in G . 
 
 He is, according to the date of his last letter, hearing the 
 lectures of the celebrated professor of physics, Spalanzani. 
 
 Now I could proceed in my story with confidence, but at 
 this moment Clara's image stands so plainly before me, that 
 I cannot look another way, as indeed was always the case 
 when she gazed at me, with one of her lively smiles. Clara 
 could not by any means be reckoned beautiful ; that was the 
 opinion of all who are competent judges of beauty, by their 
 calling. Nevertheless, the architects praised the exact sym- 
 metry of her frame, and the painters considered her neck, 
 shoulders and bosom almost too chastely formed, but then 
 they all fell in love with her wondrous Magdalen-hair, and 
 above everything prated about battonisch coloring. One of 
 them, a most fantastical fellow, singularly compared Clara's 
 eyes to a lake by Ruysdael, in which the pure azure of a 
 cloudless sky, the wood and flowery field, the whole cheerful 
 life of the rich landscape are reflected. Poets and composers 
 went still further. " What is a lake — what is a mirror? " 
 said they ; " can we look upon the girl without wondrous, 
 heavenly songs and tunes flashing towards us from her glances, 
 and penetrating our inmost soul, so that all there is awakened 
 and stirred. If even then we sing nothing that is really sensible, 
 there is not much in us, and that we can feelingly read in the 
 delicate smile which plays on Clara's lips, when we presume 
 to tinkle something before her which is to pass for a song, 
 although it is only a confused jumble of tones." 
 
 So it was. Clara had the vivid fancy of a cheerful, unem- 
 barrassed child, a deep, tender, feminine disposition, an acute, 
 clever understanding. The misty dreams had but a bad 
 chance with her, since, though she did not talk, — as indeed 
 talking would have been altogether repugnant to her tacit 
 nature, her bright glance, and her firm ironical smile, would 
 say to them : ' ' Good friends, how can you imagine that I 
 shall take your fleeting shadowy images for real forms with 
 
204 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 life and motion ? " On this account Clara was censured by 
 many as cold, unfeeling and prosaic ; while others, who con- 
 ceived life in its clear depth, greatly loved the feeling, acute, 
 childlike girl, but none so much as Nathaniel, whose percep- 
 tion in art and science was clear and strong. Clara was at- 
 tached to her lover with all her soul, and when he parted 
 from her, the first cloud passed over her life. With what trans- 
 port did she rush into his arms when, as he had promised in 
 his last letter to Lothaire, he had actually returned to his 
 native town and entered his mother's room. Nathaniel's ex- 
 pectations were completely fulfilled ; for directly he saw Clara 
 he thought neither of the Advocate Coppelius, nor of her 
 " sensible " letter. All gloomy forebodings had gone. 
 
 However, Nathaniel was quite right, when he wrote to his 
 friend Lothaire that the form of the repulsive barometer-seller, 
 Coppola, had had a most hostile effect on his life. All felt, 
 even in the first days, that Nathaniel had undergone a thor- 
 ough change in his whole temperament. He sank into a 
 gloomy reverie, and conducted himself in a strange manner, 
 that had never been known in him before. Everything, his 
 whole life had become to him a dream and a foreboding, and 
 he was always saying that every man, although he might 
 think himself free, only served for the cruel sport of dark 
 powers. These, he said, it was vain to resist, and man must 
 patiently resign himself to his fate. He went even so far as 
 to say, that it is foolish to think that we do any thing in art 
 and science according to our own self-acting will, for the in- 
 spiration which alone enables us to produce any thing, does 
 not proceed from within ourselves, but is the effect of a higher 
 principle without. 
 
 To the clear-headed Clara this mysticism was in the highest 
 degree repugnant, but contradiction appeared to be useless. 
 Only when Nathaniel proved that Coppelius was the evil 
 principle, which had seized him at the moment when he was 
 listening behind the curtain, and that this repugnant principle 
 would in some horrible manner disturb the happiness of their 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. ' 205 
 
 life, Clara grew very serious, and said: "Yes, Nathaniel, 
 you are right. Coppelius is an evil, hostile principle ; he 
 can produce terrible effects, like a diabolical power that has 
 come invisibly into life ; but only then, when you will not 
 banish him from your mind and thoughts. So long as you 
 believe in him he really exists, and exerts his influence ; only 
 your belief is his power." 
 
 Nathaniel, quite indignant that Clara established the de- 
 mon's existence only in his own mind, would then come out 
 with all the mystical doctrine of devils and fearful powers. 
 But Clara would break off peevishly, by introducing some 
 indifferent matter, to the no small annoyance of Nathaniel. 
 He thought that such deep secrets were closed to cold, un- 
 susceptible minds, without being clearly aware that he reck- 
 oned Clara among these subordinate natures, and therefore 
 he constantly endeavored to initiate her into the mysteries. 
 In the morning, when Clara was getting breakfast ready, he 
 stood by her, and read out of all sorts of mystical books, till 
 she cried : " But, dear Nathaniel, suppose I blame you as 
 the evil principle, that has a hostile effect upon my coffee ? 
 For if to please you, I leave every thing standing still, and 
 look in your eyes, while you read, my coffee will run into the 
 fire, and none of you will get any breakfast." 
 
 Nathaniel closed the book at once, and hurried indignantly 
 to his chamber. Once he had a remarkable forte for grace- 
 ful, lively tales, which he wrote down, and to which Clara 
 listened with the greatest delight ; now, his creations were 
 gloomy, incomprehensible, formless, so that although Clara, 
 out of compassion, did not say so, he plainly felt how little 
 she was interested. Nothing was more insupportable to Ciara 
 than tediousness ; in her looks and in her words a mental 
 drowsiness, not to be conquered, was expressed. Nathaniel's 
 productions were indeed, very tedious. His indignation at 
 Clara's cold, prosaic disposition, constantly increased, and Clara 
 could not overcome her dislike of Nathaniel's dark, gloomy, 
 tedious mysticism, so that they became more and more es- 
 18 
 
iiOG Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 trangecl from each other in mind, without perceiving it. The 
 form of the ugly Coppelius, as Nathaniel himself was forced 
 to confess, grew more dim in his fancy, and it often cost him 
 trouble to color with sufficient liveliness in his pictures, when 
 he appeared as a ghastly bugbear of fate. At last it struck 
 him that he would make the gloomy foreboding, that Coppe- 
 lius would destroy his happiness in love, the subject of a 
 poem. He represented himself and Clara as united by true 
 love ; but occasionally it seemed as though a black hand 
 darted into their life, and tore away some newly-springing 
 joy. At last, while they were standing at the altar, the 
 hideous Coppelius appeared, and touched Clara's lively eyes. 
 They flashed into Nathaniel's heart, like bleeding sparks, 
 scorching and burning, when Coppelius caught him, and flung 
 him into a flaming fieiy circle, which flew round with the 
 swiftness of the stream, and carried him along with it, amid 
 its roaring. The roar is like that of the hurricane, when it 
 fiercely lashes the foaming waves, which, like black giants 
 with white heads, rise up for the furious combat. But 
 through the wild tumult he hears Clara's voice : " Can you 
 not, then, see me ? Coppelius has deceived you. Those, 
 indeed, were not my eyes, which so burned in your breast — 
 they were glowing drops of your own heart's blood. I have 
 my eyes still — only look at them ! " Nathaniel reflects : 
 " That is Clara, and I am hers forever ! " Then it seems to 
 him as though thought forcibly entered the fiery circle, which 
 stands still, while the noise dully ceases in the dark abyss. 
 Nathaniel looks into Clara's eyes, but it is only death that, 
 with Clara's eyes, kindly looks on him. 
 
 "While Nathaniel composed this poem he was very calm 
 and collected ; he polished and improved every line, and hav- 
 ing subjected himself to the fetters of metre, he did not rest 
 till all was correct and melodious. When at last he had 
 finished and read the poem aloud to himself, a wild horror 
 seized him, and he cried Out: "Whose horrible voice is 
 that?" Soon, however, the whole appeared to him a very 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 207 
 
 successful work, and he felt that it must inflame Clara's cold 
 temperament, although he did not clearly consider for what 
 Clara was to be excited, nor what purpose it would answer to 
 torment her with the frightful images which threatened a hor- 
 rible destiny, destructive to their love. Both of them, that 
 is to say, Nathaniel and Clara, were sitting in their mother's 
 little garden, Clara very cheerful, because Nathaniel, during 
 the three days in which he had been writing his poem, had 
 not teased her with his dreams and his forebodings. Even 
 Nathaniel spoke lively and joyfully about pleasant matters, 
 as he used to do formerly, so that Clara said: "Now for 
 the first time I have you again ! Do you not see that we 
 have driven away the ugly Coppelius J " Then it first struck 
 Nathaniel that he had in his pocket the poem, which he had 
 intended to read. He at once drew the sheets out and began, 
 while Clara, expecting something tedious as usual, resigned 
 herself and began quietly to knit. But as the dark cloud 
 rose ever blacker and blacker, she let the stocking fail and 
 looked full into his face. He was carried along unceasingly 
 by his poem, and internal fire deeply reddened his cheeks, 
 tears flowed from his eyes. At last, when he had concluded, 
 he groaned in a state of utter exhaustion, and catching Clara's 
 hand, sighed forth, as if melted into the most inconsolable 
 grief : 
 
 " Oh Clara ! — Clara ! " Clara pressed him*gently to her 
 bosom, and said softly, but very solemnly and sincerely : " Na- 
 thaniel, dearest Nathaniel, do throw that mad, senseless, in- 
 sane stuff into the fire ! " Upon this Nathaniel sprang up 
 enraged, and thrusting Clara from him, cried: " Thou in- 
 animate, accursed automaton! " He ran off; Clara deeply 
 offended, shed bitter tears, and sobbed aloud ; "Ah, he has 
 never loved me, for he does not understand me." 
 
 Lothaire entered the arbour ; Clara was obliged to tell 
 him all that had occurred. He loved his sister with all his 
 soul, and every word of her complaint fell like a spark of 
 fire into his heart, so that the indignation which he had long 
 
208 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 harbored against the visionary Nathaniel, now broke out into 
 the wildest rage. He ran to Nathaniel and reproached him 
 for his senseless conduct towards his beloved sister, in hard 
 words which the infuriated Nathaniel retorted in the same 
 style. The appellation of "fantastical mad fool," was an- 
 swered by that of " miserable common-place fellow." A 
 duel was inevitable. They agreed on the following morning, 
 according to the academical custom of the place, to fight with 
 sharp rapiers behind the garden. Silently and gloomily 
 they slunk about. Clara had overheard the violent dispute, 
 and seeing the fencing-master bring the rapiers at dawn, 
 guessed what was to occur. Having reached the place of 
 combat, Lothaire arid Nathaniel had, in gloomy silence, flung 
 off their coats, and with the fierce desire of fighting in their 
 flaming eyes, were about to fall upon one another, when Clara 
 rushed through the garden door. Sobbing, she cried aloud, 
 " Ye wild cruel men ! Strike me down before you attack 
 each other, for how shall I live longer in the world if my 
 lover murders my brother, or my brother murders my lover." 
 Lothaire lowered his weapon, and looked in silence on the 
 ground ; but in Nathaniel's heart, amid the most poignant 
 sorrow, revived all the love for the beautiful Clara, which he 
 had felt in the best days of his happy youth. The weapon 
 fell from his hand, he threw himself at Clara's feet. " Can 
 you ever forgive me, my only — my beloved Clara? Can you 
 forgive me, my dear brother, Lothaire? " 
 
 Lothaire was touched by the deep contrition of his friend ; 
 all three embraced in reconcilation amid a thousand tears, 
 and vowed eternal love and fidelity. 
 
 Nathaniel felt as though a heavy burden, which pressed 
 him to the ground, had been rolled away, as though by re- 
 sisting the dark power, which held him fast, he had saved his 
 whole being, which had been threatened with annihilation. 
 Three happy days he passed with his dear friends, and then 
 
 went to G , where he intended to stay a year, and then 
 
 to return to his native town forever. 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN, 209 
 
 All that referred to Coppelius was kept a secret from the 
 mother, for it was well known that she could not think of him 
 without terror, as she, as well as Nathaniel, accused him of 
 causing her husband's death. 
 
 How surprised was Nathaniel, when proceeding to his 
 lodging, he saw that the whole house was burned down, and 
 that only the bare walls stood up amid the ashes. However, 
 notwithstanding the fire had broken out in the laboratory of 
 the apothecary, who lived on the ground-floor, and had, there- 
 fore, consumed the house from bottom to top, some bold 
 active friends had succeeded in entering Nathaniel's room in 
 the upper story, in time to save the books, manuscripts, and 
 instruments. They carried all safe and sound into another 
 house, where they took a room which Nathaniel entered at 
 once. He did not think it at all remarkable that he lodged 
 opposite to Professor Spalanzani ; neither did it appear singu- 
 lar when he perceived that his window looked straight into 
 the room where Olympia often sat alone, so that he could 
 plainly recognize her figure, although the features of her face 
 were indistinct and confused. At last it struck him, that 
 Olympia often remained for hours in this attitude, in which 
 he had once seen her through the glass-door, sitting at a little 
 table, without any occupation, and that she plainly enough 
 looked over at him with an unvarying glance. He was forced 
 to confess that he had never seen a more lovely form, but 
 with Clara in his heart, the stiff Olympia was perfectly in- 
 different to him. Occasionally, to be sure, he gave a transient 
 look over his compendium, at the beautiful statue, but that 
 was all. He was just writing to Clara, when he heard a 
 light tap at the door ; it paused at his words, and the repul- 
 sive face of Coppola peeped in. Nathaniel's heart trembled 
 within him, but remembering what Spalanzani had told him 
 about the countryman, Coppola, and also the sacred promises 
 he had made to Clara with respect to the Sandman Coppelius, 
 he felt ashamed of his childish fear, and collecting himself 
 18* 
 
210 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 with all his might, and as softly and civilly as possible : "I 
 do not want a barometer, my good friend ; pray, go." 
 
 Upon this, Coppola advanced a good way into the room, and 
 said in a hoarse voice, while his wide mouth distorted itself 
 into a hideous laugh, and his little eyes under their long gray 
 lashes sparkled forth piercingly : " Eh, eh — no barometer — 
 no barometer ? I have besides, pretty eyes — pretty eyes V ' ' 
 
 " Madman ! " cried Nathaniel, with horror, " how can you 
 have eyes ? — Eyes ? " 
 
 But Coppola had already put his barometer aside, and 
 plunged his hand into his wide coat-pocket, whence he drew 
 lunettes and spectacles, which he placed on the table. " There 
 — there — spectacles on the nose, those are my eyes — pretty 
 eyes ! " 
 
 And so saying he drew out more and more spectacles, so 
 that the whole table began to glisten and sparkle in the most 
 extraordinary manner. A thousand eyes glanced, and quiv- 
 ered convulsively, and stared at Nathaniel ; yet he could not 
 look away from the table, and Coppola kept still laying down 
 more and more spectacles, while flaming glances were in- 
 termingled more and more wildly, and shot their blood- 
 red rays into Nathaniel's breast. Overcome with horror, he 
 shrieked out : " Hold, hold, frightful man!" He seized 
 fast by the arm Coppola, who was searching his pockets to 
 bring out still more spectacles, although the whole table was 
 already covered. Coppola had greatly extricated himself by 
 a hoarse repulsive laugh, and with the words : ''Ah, nothing 
 for you,— but here are pretty glasses; " he had collected all 
 the spectacles, put them up, and from the breast-pocket of 
 his coat had drawn forth a number of telescopes large and 
 small. As soon as the spectacles were removed Nathaniel 
 felt quite easy, and thinking of Clara, perceived that the 
 hideous phantom was but the creation of his own mind, and 
 that Coppola was an honest optician, and could by no means 
 be the accursed double of Coppelius. Moreover, in all the 
 glasses which Coppola now placed on the table, there was 
 
COPPELICS, THE SANDMAN. 211 
 
 nothing remarkable, or at least nothing so ghost-like as the 
 spectacles, and to make matters right Nathaniel resolved to 
 buy something of Coppola. He took up a little and ver} 
 neatly worked pocket telescope, and looked through the 
 window to try it. Never in his life had he met a glass which 
 brought the objects so sharply, plainly and clearly before his 
 eyes. Involuntarily he looked into Spalanzani's room ; 
 Oiympia was sitting as usual before the little table, with her 
 arms laid upon it, and her hands folded. For the first time 
 could he see the wondrous beauty in the form of her face ; — 
 only the eyes seemed to him singularly stiff and dead. Never- 
 theless, as he looked more sharply through the glass, it seemed 
 to him as if moist-born beams were rising in the eyes of 
 Oiympia. It was as if the power of seeing was kindled for 
 the first time ; the glances Hashed with constantly increasing 
 liveliness. As if spell-bound, Nathaniel reclined against 
 the window, meditating on the charming Oiympia. A hem- 
 ming and scraping aroused him as if from a dream. Coppola 
 was standing behind him: "Tre zecchini — three ducats!"" 
 Nathaniel, who had quite forgotten the optician, quickly paid 
 him what he asked. 
 
 " Is it not so ? A pretty glass — a pretty glass ? " asked 
 Coppola, in his hoarse, repulsive voioe, and with his hoarse 
 malicious smile. " Yes— yes," replied Nathaniel, peevishly; 
 " good bye, friend." 
 
 Coppola left the room, not without casting many strange 
 glances at Nathaniel. He heard him laugh loudly on the 
 stairs. "Ah, thought Nathaniel, "he is laughing at me, 
 because, no doubt, I have paid him too much for this little 
 glass. While he softly uttered these words, it seemed to me as 
 if a deep, deadly sigh was sounding fearfully through the 
 room, and his breath was stopped by inward anguish. He 
 perceived, however, that it was himself who had sighed. 
 " Clara," he said to himself, " is right in taking me for a 
 senseless dreamer, but it is pure madness- — nay, more than 
 madness, that the stupid thought, that I have paid Coppola 
 
212 Hoffmann's strange btoribs. 
 
 too much for the glass, pains me even so strangely. I cannot 
 sec the cause. 77 
 
 He now sat down to finish his letter to Clara ; but a glance 
 through the window convinced him that Olympia was still 
 sitting there, and he instantly sprang out, as if impelled by 
 an irresistible power, seized Coppola's glass, and could not 
 tear himself from the seductive view of Olympia, till his 
 friend and brother Sigismund, called him to go to Professor 
 Spalanzani's lecture. The curtain was drawn close before 
 the fatal room, and he could neither perceive Olympia now 
 nor during the two following days, although he scarcely ever 
 left the window, and constantly looked through Coppola's 
 glass. On the third day the windows were completely cov- 
 ered. Quite in despair, and impelled by a burning wish, he 
 ran out of the town-gate. Olympia' s form floated before 
 him in the air, stepped forth from the bushes, and peeped at 
 him with large beaming eyes from the clear brook. Clara's 
 image had completely vanished from his mind ; he thought of 
 nothing but Olympia, and complained aloud and in a mur- 
 muring tone: "Ah, thou noble, sublime star of my love, 
 hast thou only risen upon me, to vanish immediately and leave 
 me in dark hopeless night ? " 
 
 When he was retiring to his lodging, he perceived that 
 there was a great bustle in Spalanzani's house. The doors 
 were wide open, all sorts of utensils were being carried in, 
 the windows of the first floor were being taken out, maid ser- 
 vants were going about sweeping and dusting with great hair- 
 brooms, and carpenters and upholsterers were knocking and 
 hammering within. Nathaniel remained standing in the street 
 in a state of perfect wonder, when Sigismund came up to him, 
 laughing, and said : 
 
 "Now, what do you say to our old Spalanzani?" — 
 Nathaniel assured him that he could say nothing, because he 
 knew nothing, about the professor, but on the contrary per- 
 ceived with astonishment, the mad proceedings in a house 
 otherwise so quiet and gloomy. He then learnt from Sigis- 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 213 
 
 nmnd that Spalanzani intended to give a grand festival on 
 the following day, — a concert and ball — and that half the uni- 
 versity was invited. It was generally reported that Spalan- 
 zani, who had so long kept his daughter most painfully from 
 every human eye, would now let her appear for the first time. 
 
 Nathaniel found a card of invitation, and with heart beat- 
 ing highly, went at the appointed hour to the professor's, 
 where the coaches were already rolling, and the lights were 
 shining in the decorated saloons. The company was numer- 
 ous and brilliant. Oiympia appeared dressed with richness 
 and taste. Her beautifully turned face, her figure called for 
 admiration. The somewhat strange bend of her back inwards, 
 the wasp-like thinness of her waist, seemed to be produced by 
 too tight lacing. In her step and deportment there w T as some- 
 thing measured and stiff, which struck many as unpleasant, but 
 it was ascribed to the constraint produced by the company. The 
 concert began. Oiympia played the piano with great dex- 
 terity, and executed a bravura, with a voice like the sound of 
 a glass bell, clear, and almost cutting. Nathaniel was quite 
 enraptured ; he stood in the hindermost row, and could not 
 perfectly recognize Oiympia' s features in the dazzling light. 
 He, therefore, quite unperceived, took out Coppola's glass, 
 and looked towards the fair Oljmpia. Ah ! then he saw with 
 what a longing glance she looked towards him, how every tone 
 first resolved itself plainly in the glance of love, which pene- 
 trated, in its glowing career, his inmost soul. The artistical 
 roulades seemed to Nathaniel the exultation of a mind il- 
 luminated with love, and when, at last, after the cadence, the 
 long thrill sounded shrilly through the saloon, he felt as if 
 grasped by glowing arms ; he could no longer restrain him- 
 self, but with mingled pain and rapture shouted out " Oiym- 
 pia ! " All looked at him, and many laughed. The organist of 
 the cathedral made a more gloomy face than usual, and simply 
 said: " Well, well." The concert had finished, the ball 
 began. ;i To dance with her — with her ! " 
 
 That was the aim of all Nathaniel's wishes, of all his efforts ; 
 
214 
 
 HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 but how to gain courage to ask her, the queen of the festival ? 
 Nevertheless — he himself did not know how it happened — no 
 sooner had the dancing begun, than he was standing close to 
 Olyrapia, who had not yet been asked to dance, and scarcely 
 able to stammer out a few words, had seized her hand. The 
 hand of Olympia was as cold as. ice ; he felt a horrible deadly 
 frost thrilling through him. He looked into her eye — that 
 was beaming full of love and desire, and at the same time it 
 seemed to him as though the pulse began to beat, and the 
 stream of life to glow in the cold hand. And in the soul of 
 Nathaniel the joy of love rose still higher ; he clasped the 
 beautiful Olympia, and with het flew through the dance. He 
 thought that his dancing was usually correct as to time, but 
 the peculiar rhythmical steadiness with which Olympia moved, 
 and which often put him completely out, soon showed him, 
 that his time was very defective. However, he would dance 
 with no other lad}?, and would have liked to murder any one 
 who approached Olympia for the purpose of asking her. But 
 this only happened twice, and to his astonishment Olympia 
 remained seated after every dance, when he lost no time in 
 making her rise again. Had he been able to see any other 
 object besides the fair Olympia, all sorts of unfortunate quar- 
 rels would have been inevitable, for the half-soft, scarcely- 
 suppressed laughter, which arose among the young people in 
 every corner, was manifestly directed to Olympia, whom they 
 pursued with very curious glances — one could not tell why. 
 Heated by the dance, and by the wine, of which he had freely 
 partaken, Nathaniel had laid aside all his ordinary reserve. — 
 He sat by Olympia, with her hand in his, and highly inflamed 
 and inspired, told his passion, in words which no one under- 
 stood — neither himself nor Olympia. Yet, perhaps, she did ; 
 for she looked immovably in, his face, and sighed several 
 times, "Ah, ah!" Upon this, Nathaniel said, "Oh, thou 
 splendid, heavenly lady ! Thou ray from the promised land 
 of love- — thou deep soul, in which all my being is reflected ! ? ' 
 with much more stuff of the like kind ; but Olympia merely 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 215 
 
 went on sighing, "Ah — ah! " Professor Spalanzani occasion- 
 ally pasted the happy pair, and smiled on them with a look of 
 singular satisfaction. To Nathaniel, although he felt in quite 
 another region, it seemed all at once as though Professor 
 Spalanzani was growing considerably darker \ he looked 
 around, and, to his no small horror, perceived that the two 
 last candles in his empty saloon had burned down to their 
 sockets, and were just going out. Music and dancing had 
 ceased long ago. 
 
 " Separation, separation ! " he cried, wildly, and in despair ; 
 he kissed Olympia's hand, he bent towards her mouth, when 
 his glowing lips were met by lips cold as ice ! Just as when 
 he touched Olympia's cold hand, he felt himself overcome by 
 horror ; the legend of the dead bride darted suddenly through 
 his mind, but Olympia pressed him fast, and her lips seemed 
 to recover to life at his kiss. Professor Spalanzani strode 
 through the empty hall, his steps caused a hollow echo, and 
 his figure, round which a flickering shadow played, had a 
 fearful, spectral appearance. " Dost thou love me, dost thou 
 love me, Olympia ? Only this word ! — Dost thou love me ?" 
 So whispered Nathaniel ; but Olympia, as she rose, only 
 sighed, "Ah — ah ! " " Yes, my gracious, my beautiful star 
 of love," said Nathaniel, "thou hast risen upon me, and thou 
 wilt shine, ever illuminating my inmost soul." "Ah — ah ! " 
 replied Olympia, going. Nathaniel followed her, and they 
 both stood before the Professor. 
 
 ' ' You have had a very animated conversation with my 
 daughter," said he, smiling; "so dear Herr Nathaniel, if 
 you have any taste for talking with a silly girl, your visits 
 shall be welcome." 
 
 Nathaniel departed, with a whole heaven beaming in his 
 bosom. The next day Spalanzani's festival was the subject 
 of conversation. Notwithstanding the professor had done 
 everything to appear splendid, the wags had all sorts of in- 
 congruities and other oddities to talk about, and were partic- 
 ularly hard upon the dumb, stiff Olympia, to whom, in spite 
 
216 Hoffmann's stkange stories. 
 
 of her beautiful exterior, they ascribed absolute stupidity, 
 and were pleased to find therein the cause why Spalanzani 
 kept her so long concealed. Nathaniel did not hear this with- 
 out increased rage ; but, nevertheless, he held his peace, for, 
 thought he, " Is it worth while to convince these fellows that 
 it is their own stupidity that prevents them from recognizing 
 Olympiad deep, noble mind ? " 
 
 One day Sigismund said to him : " Be kind enough, 
 brother, to tell me how it was possible for a sensible fellow 
 like you to fall in love with that wax face, that wooden doll 
 up there ? ' ' 
 
 Nathaniel was about to fly out in a passion, but he quickly 
 recollected himself, and retorted: "Tell me, Sigismund, 
 how it is that Olympia' s heavenly charms could escape your 
 glance, which generally perceives everything so clearly — your 
 active senses? But, for that very reason, Heaven be thanked, 
 I have not you for my rival ; otherwise, one of us must have 
 -fallen a bleeding corpse ! " 
 
 Sigismund plainly perceived his friend's condition, so he 
 skilfully gave the conversation a turn, and added, after ob- 
 serving that in love affairs there was no disputing about the 
 object : " Nevertheless it is strange, that many of us think 
 much the same about Olympia. To us — pray do not take it 
 ill, brother, — she appears singularly stiff and soulless. Her 
 shape is symmetrical — so is her face— that is true ! She 
 might pass for beautiful, if her glance were not so utterly 
 without a ray of life — without the power of seeing. Her 
 pace is strangely measured, every movement seems to depend 
 on some wound-up clockwork Her playing — her singing has 
 the unpleasantly correct and spiritless measure of a singing 
 machine, and the same may be said of her dancing. To us, 
 this Olympia has been quite unpleasant ; we wished to have 
 nothing to do with her ; it seems as if she acts like a living 
 being, and yet has some strange peculiarity of her own." 
 
 Nathaniel did not completely yield to the bitter feeling, 
 which was coming over him at these words of Sigismund ; he 
 
C0PPEL1US, THE SANDMAN. 217 
 
 mastered his indignation, and merely said, with great earnest- 
 ness, ''Well may Olympia appear awful to you, cold prosaic 
 man. Only to the poetical mind does the similarly organized 
 develope itself. To me alone was her glance of love revealed, 
 beaming through mind and thought; only in the love of 
 Olympia do I find myself again. It may not suit you, that 
 she does not indulge in idle chitchat like other shallow minds. 
 She utters few words, it is true, but these few words appear 
 as genuine hieroglyphics of the inner world, full of love and 
 deep knowledge of the spiritual life in contemplation of the 
 eternal yonder. But you have no sense for all this, and my 
 words are wasted on you." 
 
 " God preserve you, brother," said Sigismund very mildl}', 
 almost sorrowfully; " but it seems to me, that you are in an 
 evil way. You may depend upon me, if all — no, no, I will 
 not say any thing further." All of a sudden it seemed to 
 Nathaniel as if the cold prosaic Sigismund meant very well 
 towards him, and, therefore, he shook the proffered hand very 
 heartily. 
 
 Nathaniel had totally forgotten that there was in the 
 world a Clara, whom he had once loved; — his mother — 
 Lothaire — all had vanished from his memory ; he lived only 
 for Olympia, with whom he sat for hours every day, uttering 
 strange fantastical stuff about his love, about the sympathy 
 that glowed to life, about the affinity of souls, to all of which 
 Olympia listened with great devotion. From the very bottom 
 of his desk, he drew out all that he had ever written. Poems, 
 fantasies, visions, romances, tales — this stock was daily in- 
 creased with all sorts of extravagant sonnets, stanzas, and 
 canzone, and he read all to Olympia for hours in succession 
 without fatigue. Never had he known such an admirable 
 listener. \ She neither embroidered nor knitted, she never 
 looked out of window, she fed no favorite bird, she played 
 neither with lap-dog nor pet-cat, she did not twist' a slip of 
 paper nor any thing else in her hand, she was not obliged to 
 suppress a yawn by a gentle forced cough. In short, she sat 
 19 
 
218 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 for hours, looking straight into her lover's eyes, without stir- 
 ring, and her glance became more and more lively and ani- 
 mated. Only when Nathaniel rose at last, and kissed her" 
 hand and also her lips, she said, " Ah — ah ! " adding " good 
 night, dearest ! ' ' 
 
 " Oh deep, noble mind," cried Nathaniel in his own room, 
 "by thee, by thee, dear one, am I fully comprehended." 
 He trembled with inward transport, when he considered the 
 wonderful accordance that was revealed more and more every 
 day in his own mind, and that of Olympia, for it seemed to 
 him as if Olympia had spoken concerning him and his poeti- 
 cal talent, out of the depths of his own mind ; — as if the 
 voice had actually sounded from within himself. That must 
 indeed have been the case, for Olympia never uttered any 
 words whatever, beyond those which have been already men- 
 tioned. Even when Nathaniel, in clear and sober moments, 
 as for instance, when he had just woke in the morning, re- 
 membered Olympia's utter passivity, and her paucity and 
 scarcity of words, he said : " Words, words ! The glance of 
 her heavenly e} r e speaks more than any language here below. 
 Can a child of heaven adapt herself to the narrow circle which 
 a miserable earthly necessity has drawn ? " 
 
 Professor Spalanzani appeared highly delighted at the inti- 
 macy of his daughter with Nathaniel. To the latter he gave 
 the most unequivocal signs of approbation, and when Nathan- 
 iel ventured at last to hint at an union with Olympia, he 
 smiled with his white face, and thought "he would leave his 
 daughter a free choice in the matter." 
 
 Encouraged by these words, and with burning passion in 
 his heart, Nathaniel resolved to implore Olympia on the very 
 next day, that she would say directly, in plain words, that 
 which her kind glance had told him long ago ; namely, that 
 she loved, him. He sought the ring which his mother had 
 given him at parting, that he might give it to Olympia as a 
 symbol of his devotion, of his life which budded forth and 
 bloomed with her alone. Clara's letter and Lothaire's came 
 
OOPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 
 
 219 
 
 into his hands during the search ; but he flung them aside in- 
 differently, found the ring, put it up, and hastened over to 
 Olympia* 
 
 Already on the steps, in the hall, he heard a strange noise, 
 which seemed to proceed from Spalanzani' s room. There was 
 a stamping, a clattering, a pushing, a hurling against the 
 door, intermingled with curses and imprecations. 
 
 " Let go, let go, rascal! — scoundrel! Body and soul 
 ventured in it ? Ha, ha, ha ! that I never will consent to — 
 I, made the eyes, I the clockwork — stupid blockhead with 
 jour clockwork — accursed dog of a bungling watch-maker — 
 off with you — Satan — stop, pipe-maker — infernal beast — hold 
 — begone — let go I " 
 
 These words were uttered by the voices of Spalanzani, and 
 the hideous Coppelius, who was thus raging and clamoring. 
 Nathaniel rushed in, overcome by the most inexpressible an- 
 guish. The professor held a female figure fast by the shoul- 
 ders, the Italian Coppola grasped it by the feet, and thus 
 they were tugging and pulling, this way and that, contending 
 for the possession of it, with the utmost fury. Nathaniel 
 started back with horror, when in the figure he recognized 
 Olympia. Boiling with the wildest indignation, he was about 
 to rescue his beloved from these infuriated men, but at that 
 moment Coppola, turning himself with the force of a giant, 
 wrenched the figure from the professor's hand, and then with 
 the figure itself gave him a tremendous blow, which made 
 him reel and fall backwards over the table, where vials, re- 
 torts, bottles and glass cylinders were standing. All these 
 were dashed to a thousand shivers. Now Coppola flung the 
 figure across his shoulders, -and, with frightful, yelling laugh- 
 ter, dashed down the stairs, so that the feet of the figure, 
 which dangled in the ugliest manner, rattled with a wooden 
 sound on every step. Nathaniel stood paralyzed; he had 
 seen but too plainly that Olympia's waxen, deadly pale coun- 
 tenance had no eyes, but black holes instead — she was, indeed, 
 a lifeless doll. Spalanzani was writhing on the floor; the 
 
220 Hoffmann's strange STonm. 
 
 pieces of glass had cut his head, hands and arms, and the 
 blood was spirting np, as from so many fountains. But he 
 soon collected all his strength. 
 
 "After him — after him — why do you pause? Coppelius, 
 Coppelius, has robbed me of my best automaton — a work of 
 twenty years — body and soul set upon it — the clock-work — 
 the speech — the walk, mine ; the eyes stolen from you. The 
 infernal rascal — after him ; fetch Olympia — there you have 
 the eyes !" 
 
 And now Nathaniel saw how a pair of eyes, which lay 
 upon the ground, were staring at him ; these Spalanzani 
 caught up, with the unwounded hand, and flung against his 
 heart. At this, madness seized him with its burning claws, 
 and clutched into his soul, tearing to pieces all his thougths 
 and senses. 
 
 "Ho — ho — ho — a circle of fire! of fire! — turn thyself 
 round, circle, merrily, merrily, ho, thou wooden doll — turn 
 thyself, pretty doll ! * ? 
 
 With these words he flew at the professor and pressed in 
 his throat. He would have strangled him, had not the noise 
 attracted many people, who rushed in, forced open Nathaniel's 
 grasp, and thus saved the professor, whose wounds were 
 bound immediately. Sigismund, as strong as he was, was 
 not able to master the mad Nathaniel, who, with frightful 
 voice kept crying out : " Turn thyself, wooden doll ! " and 
 struck around him with clenched fists. At last the combined 
 force of many succeeded in overcoming him, in flinging him 
 to the ground, and binding him. His words were merged 
 into a hideous roar, like that of a brute, and raging in this 
 insane condition he was taken to the mad-house. 
 
 Before, gentle reader, I proceed to tell thee what more 
 befel the unfortunate Nathaniel, I can tell thee, in case thou 
 takest an interest in the skilful optician and automaton-maker, 
 Spalanzani, that he was completely healed of his wounds, He 
 was, however, obliged to leave the university, because Na- 
 thaniel's story had created a sensation, and it was universally 
 
COPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 221 
 
 deemed an unpardonable imposition to smuggle wooden dolls 
 instead of living persons into respectable tea-parties — for such 
 Olympia had visited with success. The lawyers called it a 
 most subtle deception, and the more culpable, inasmuch as he 
 had planned it so artfully against the public, that not a single 
 soul — a few cunning students excepted — had detected it, al- 
 though all now wished to play the acute, and referred to various 
 facts which appeared to them suspicious. Nothing very clever 
 was revealed in this way. For instance, could it strike any 
 one as so very suspicious, that Olympia, according to the ex- 
 pression of an elegant tea-ite, had, contrary to all usage, 
 sneezed oftener than she had yawned ! 
 
 " The former" remarked this elegant person, "was the 
 self- winding-up of the concealed clockwork, which had, more- 
 over, creaked audibly" — and so on. The professor of poetry 
 and eloquence took a pinch of snuff, clapped first the lid of 
 his box, cleared his throat, and said, solemnly, " Ladies and 
 gentlemen, do you not perceive how the whole affair lies ? It 
 is all an allegory — a continued metaphor — you understand 
 me — Sapienti sat. ' ' 
 
 But many were not satisfied with this ■ the story of the 
 automaton had struck deep root into their souls, and, in fact, 
 an abominable mistrust against human figures in general, be- 
 gan to creep in. Many lovers, to be quite convinced that 
 they were not enamored of wooden dolls, would request 
 their mistress to sing and dance a little out of time, to em- 
 broider and knit, and play with their lap-dogs, while listening, 
 <fcc. ; and, above all, not to listen merely, but also sometimes 
 to talk, in such a manner as presupposed actual thought and 
 feeling. 
 
 With many did the bond of love become firmer, and more 
 chaining, while others, on the contrary, slipped gently out 
 of the noose. 
 
 " One cannot really answer for this," said some. At tea- 
 parties, yawning prevailed to an incredible extent, and there 
 was no sneezing at all, that all suspicion might be avoided, 
 19* 
 
222 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Spalaiizani, as already stated, was obliged to decamp, to 
 escape the criminal prosecution for fraudulently introducing 
 an automaton into human society. Coppola had vanished 
 also. 
 
 Nathaniel awakened as from a heavy, frightful dream ; he 
 opened his eyes and felt an indescribable sensation of pleasure 
 streaming through him, with soft heavenly warmth. He was 
 in bed in his own room, in his father's house, Clara stooping 
 over him, and Lothaire and his mother were standing near. 
 
 " At last, at last, oh beloved Nathaniel, hast thou recovered 
 from thy serious illness — now thou art again mine ! ' ' 
 
 So spoke Clara, from the very depth of her soul, and 
 clasped Nathaniel in her arms. But with mingled sorrow 
 and delight did the brightly glowing tears fall from his eyes, 
 and he deeply groaned forth : " My own — my own Clara ! " 
 Sigismund, who had faithfully remained with his friend in the 
 hour of trouble, now entered. Nathaniel stretched out his 
 hand to him. 
 
 " And thou, faithful brother, hast not deserted me?" 
 
 Every trace of Nathaniel's madness had vanished, and he 
 soon gained strength amid the care of his mother, his beloved, 
 and his friends. Good fortune also had visited the house, for 
 ah old penurious uncle, of whom nothing had been expected, 
 had died, and had left the mother, besides considerable prop- 
 erty, an estate in a pleasant spot near the town. Thither 
 Nathaniel, with his Clara, whom he now thought of marrying, 
 his mother, and Lothaire, desired to go. Nathaniel had now 
 grown milder and more docile than he had ever been, and he 
 now understood, for the first time, the heavenly purity and 
 the greatness of Clara's mind. — No one, by the slightest hint, 
 reminded him of the past. Only, when Sigismund took leave 
 of him, Nathaniel said : 
 
 " Heavens, brother, I was in an evil way, but a good angel 
 led me betimes to the path of light. Ah, that was Clara ! " 
 
 Sigismund did not let him carry the discourse further, for' 
 fear that deeply wounding recollections might burst forth 
 
t'OPPELIUS, THE SANDMAN. 2'J.o 
 
 bright and flaming. It was about this time that the four 
 happy persons thought of going to the estate. They were 
 crossing, at noon, the streets of the city, where they had 
 made several purchases, and the high steeple of the town-house 
 already cast its gigantic shadow over the market-place. 
 
 " Oh," said Clara, " let us ascend it once more, and look 
 at the distant mountains ! " 
 
 No sooner said than done, Nathaniel and Clara both as- 
 cended the steps, the mother returned home with the servant, 
 and Lothaire, not inclined to clamber up so many steps, re- 
 mained below. The two lovers stood arm in arm in the highest 
 gallery of the tower, and looked down upon the misty forest, 
 behind which the blue mountains were rising like a gigantic 
 city. 
 
 1 - Look there at that curious little gray bush, which actually 
 seems as if it were striding towards us," said Clara. Nathaniel 
 mechanically put his hand into his breast pocket — he found 
 Coppola's telescope, and he looked on one side. Clara was 
 before the glass. There was a convulsive movement in his 
 pulse and veins, — pale as death, he stared at Clara, but soon 
 streams of fire flashed and glared from his rolling eyes, and 
 he roared frightfully, like a hunted beast. Then he sprang 
 high into the air, and,, in the intervals of a horrible laughter, 
 shrieked out, in a piercing tone, " Wooden doll, turn thyself! " 
 
 Seizing Clara with immense force, he wished to hurl her 
 down, but with the energy of a desperate death-struggle she 
 clutched the railings. Lothaire heard the raging of the mad- 
 man — he heard Clara's shriek of agony — fearful forebodings 
 darted through his mind, he ran up, the door of the second 
 flight was fastened, and the shrieks of Clara became louder 
 and louder. Frantic with rage and anxiety, he dashed against 
 the door, which, at last, burst open. Clara's voice became 
 fainter and fainter. " Help — help — save me ! " — with these 
 words the voice seemed to die in the air. 
 
 " She is gone — murdered by the madman ! " cried Lothaire. 
 The door of the gallery was also closed, but despair gave 
 
221 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 him a giant's strength, and he burst it from the hinges. 
 Heavens — Clara, grasped by the mad Nathaniel, was hanging 
 in the air over the gallery, only with one hand she still held 
 one of the iron railings. Quick as lightning Lothaire caught 
 his sister, drew her in, and, at the same moment, struck the 
 madman in the face with his clenched fist, so that he reeled 
 and let go his prey. 
 
 Lothaire ran down with his fainting sister in his arms. She 
 was saved. Nathaniel went raging about the gallery and 
 bounded high in the air, crying, " Fire circle — turn thyself! " 
 The people collected at the sound of the wild shriek, and 
 among them, prominent by his gigantic stature, was the ad- 
 vocate Coppelius, who had just come to the town, and was 
 proceeding straight to the market-place. Some wished to 
 ascend and secure the madman, but Coppelius laughed, saying 
 "Ha, ha, — only wait — he will soon come down of his own 
 accord," and looked up like the rest, Nathaniel suddenly 
 stood still, as if petrified ; he stooped down, perceived Cop- 
 pelius, and yelling out, "Ah, pretty eyes — pretty eyes!" 
 he sprang over the railing. 
 
 When Nathaniel lay on the stone pavement, with his head 
 shattered, Coppelius had disappeared in the crowd. 
 
 Many years afterwards it is said that Clara was seen in a 
 remote spot, sitting hand in hand with a kind-looking man be- 
 fore the door of a country house, while two lively boys played 
 before her. From this it may be inferred that she at last 
 found that quiet domestic happiness which suited her serene 
 and cheerful mind, and which the morbid Nathaniel would 
 never have given her. 
 
■ . 
 
 SALVATOR ROSA. 
 
 At the time when the fisherman, Massaniello proclaimed by 
 the sound of the tocsin, liberty in Naples, the painter Salva- 
 tor, driven from the city by the terror which this eight days' 
 revolution occasioned, fled, destitute of everything, and took 
 the road to Koine. He wore a costume of humble appearance, 
 and two poor sequins, well worn, chinked in the bottom of 
 his almost empty purse, when he arrived, towards dark, at 
 the gates of Rome, the same day that witnessed the death of 
 Massaniello, and Naples return to the yoke of Spain. He 
 slipped like a shadow through the deserted streets, until he 
 reached the Navona Square. It was there that, in happier 
 times, he had lived in a beautiful house, near the Pamfili 
 palace. His gaze was fixed, with all the anguish of a sad 
 remembrance, on the high windows which reflected the bril- 
 liancy of the full moon. 
 
 " Alas ! " said he to himself, I shall have to expend much 
 time in producing paintings before I shall be able to regain 
 my favorite studio ! ' ' 
 
 This thought agitated him with a painful shudder ; then, 
 his strength being nearly exhausted suddenly failed him, and, 
 sinking down on a stone seat, before the regretted house, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " How many pictures must I daub, in order to live, and 
 satisfy the caprice of fools ? I feel no longer courage, or con- 
 fidence in the future ! " 
 
226 Hoffmann's strange gronnss. 
 
 A frozen wind whirled whistling through the deserted 
 streets. Salvator soon felt the necessity of seeking for an 
 asylum ; and. dragging himself as far as the corner of Ber- 
 gognona street, near the Corso, he stopped before a silent 
 little house, with two windows, in which lived a poor widow 
 with her two daughters. This family had made a home for him 
 at the time of his first visit to Rome, when he was nothing 
 but a poor unknown artist. Salvator hoped that this remem- 
 brance would procure him a kindly welcome. He knocked 
 for a long time without being able to make himself heard ; 
 finally the widow, suddenly awaking, came gropingly and 
 half opened the window, grumbling with her whole soul 
 against the belated individual who came to disturb her repose 
 at this hour of the night ; but as soon as Salvator, after many 
 words wholly lost, thanks to the state of half slumber in 
 which the lady was wrapped, had succeeded in making him- 
 self recognized — 
 
 " What is it ! " exclaimed his old hostess, " what, is that you, 
 master Salvator ? You are very welcome ; your little cham- 
 ber has remained empty, and the fig-tree which grew up 
 against the wall, now encloses the window in its fresh foliage. 
 My good friend, how happy my daughters will be to see you 
 again ! You will no longer recognize my dear Margaret, she 
 has grown so tall and handsome ! and your favorite cat, alas ! 
 she, three months ago choked herself with a fish-bone. We 
 are all mortal ! And our fat neighbor, whom you so well 
 caricatured, has married a Signor Luigi, a young man. — 
 Heaven be praised for all ; but singular marriages are ar- 
 ranged up above." 
 
 " But," interrupted Salvator, with great exertion, " for heav- 
 en's sake, Madame Catherine, open the door for me at once, then 
 we will talk at our ease about the fig-tree, your daughter, the 
 cat and the fat neighbor. I am dying of fatigue and hunger." 
 
 " Well, well ! " said the old lady, grumblingly, " patience, 
 I am coming." 
 
 Then it took her a good quarter of an hour to find the key 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 
 
 227 
 
 of the door, awaken the girls, and light a fire. The door was 
 finally opened to the poor traveller, who took three steps 
 inside the door and fainted with exhaustion. The good 
 lady Catherine loved Salvator, and placed his talents far 
 above those of other painters. The accident of her old lodger 
 caused her extreme pain, and she cried out for them to quickly 
 seek a confessor. By chance, her son, who ordinarily worked 
 at Tivoli, was in the house that night. This young man 
 thought that a physician was more necessary than a confessor, 
 and he ran to the Place d'Espagne to beg the doctor Splendi- 
 ano Accoramboni to come immediately to the artist, whom 
 they had swaddled up in a very warm bed. The good Cathe- 
 rine sprinkled him with holy water, and surrounded him with 
 holy relics, whilst the young girls, bathed in tears, endeav- 
 ored to pour through the lips of the sick man some drops of 
 an old cordial. Day began to break when the doors were 
 thrown open, to allow the famous doctor to pass. The young 
 girls discreetly retired, not without throwing on poor Salvator 
 uneasy glances. 
 
 It is not, perhaps, useless to describe the new character 
 who makes his appearance on the stage at the little house in 
 Eergognona street. In spite of all the natural dispositions 
 towards the most perfect physical developement, doctor Splen- 
 diano Accoramboni had not been able to exceed the respecta- 
 ble height of four feet. It is yet truth to tell that in his 
 childhood he had given promises of acquiring the finest pro- 
 portions ; and before his head became a little deformed by I 
 know not what accident, had acquired, thanks to his puffy 
 cheeks and his double chin, an exaggerated volume ; before 
 his nose had become violet by the corrosive action of the 
 Spanish tobacco ; before his paunch, swelled with maccaroni, 
 had attained uncomfortable dimensions, the celebrated doctor 
 Splendiano very advantageously wore the costume of an 
 abbot. He was, to tell the truth, such a pretty young man, 
 that the old Roman ladies, who petted him, rivalled each 
 other in calling him a duck, their dear little fellow. This 
 
^28 Hoffmann's strange storijks. 
 
 nick-name had made his fortune, and a German painter said, 
 cunningly, on seeing Signor Splendiano pass through the 
 Place d'Espagne, that he seemed like an Alcides of gigantic 
 stature, and at least six feet high, with the head of a puppet. This 
 strange figure was rolled up in an immense piece of Venice 
 damask with large figures ; a belt of buffalo skin, buckled 
 over his chest, supported a rapier at least three ells in length, 
 and on his powdered wig swayed a high and pointed cap, 
 which resembled not a little the obelisk of Saint Peter's 
 Square ; and this frizzled wig, which, on account of the small 
 stature of the wearer, reached the middle of his back, repre- 
 sented a kind of cocoon, from which this enormous silk-worm 
 projected half way. 
 
 Splendiano put on his spectacles to observe the sick man, 
 and taking dame Catherine aside : — '• He is very ill," said he 
 in a low voice; " the esteemed painter, Salvator Rosa, will 
 give up the ghost in your house, if my science does not pre- 
 serve him. When did he arrive ? Does he bring any fine 
 pictures to Naples? " 
 
 "Alas ! my worthy Signor," said the old lady, -* the poor 
 fellow came very suddenly upon me to-night : as for the pic- 
 tures of which you speak, I have seen nothing of them ; but 
 there is down below a great box that Salvator had recom- 
 mended to my care before falling into the state in which. you 
 see him. " Catherine lied, but we shall soon see on what account. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " said the doctor, smacking his lips and smiling 
 through his beard ; then, with all the gravity which his long 
 rapier would allow him to assume, whilst it caught against 
 every piece of furniture, he approached the sick man and felt 
 his pulse with a knowing look, breathing like a smith's bel- 
 lows in the silence that surrounded him. xifter having de- 
 clined in Greek and Latin, the odd names of more than a 
 hundred diseases which the painter had not, he added that 
 he could not ex abrupto denominate that from which Salvator 
 was suffering, but that he should not be long in finding a very 
 remarkable name, and very efficacious remedies. Having 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 229 
 
 said that, he went away with measured steps, as he had come ; 
 but at the foot of the staircase the box came into his mind, 
 and, pressed with questions, dame Catherine showed him an 
 old chest in which reposed some garments of her departed 
 husband. The doctor sounded the chest with his foot and 
 went out, repeating, " We shall see." 
 
 "When the good widow went back to the little chamber, 
 Salvator began to give some signs of life. The young girls 
 had come stealthily back, and stood, like two guardian angels, 
 at his bedside. There was a delicious poetry in the joy of 
 this poor family, when the pale face of the artist appeared to 
 grow animated under the rays of the rising sun. 
 
 Mother, said the young girls in a low voice, " God will 
 save our good friend Salvator ; why then has this ugly doctor, 
 whose face is repulsive, and whose words are fearful, been 
 called?" 
 
 " Silence, young people," answered Catherine, " it is for- 
 tunate for us that the wise Splendiano has not disdained to 
 come to our humble dwelling, for he is the fashionable physi- 
 cian amongst great lords ; and if, thanks to him, master Sal- 
 vator recovers his health, he will paint some fine picture to 
 pay him for it ; Splendiano is a generous man who treats 
 artists like brothers." 
 
 " When he does not bury them ! " said the young girls, 
 softly ; and their eyes sought again on the features of the 
 painter the first indications of his awaking from this fatal 
 fainting fit. When Salvator opened his eyes, an almost im- 
 perceptible smile of affectionate gratitude to the good hearts 
 that had not abandoned him, lightly contracted his lips ; he 
 was, perhaps, about to speak, but a delicate white hand. was 
 placed upon his mouth, whilst a sweet voice said softly to 
 him, " Hope and courage ! " 
 
 Some minutes afterwards, Splendiano re-appeared, loaded 
 with several phials filled with a detestable drug, which he 
 prescribed to be administered to his patient ; but either the 
 20 
 
230 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 disease progressed, or the remedy was worse than the disease, 
 Salvator was making his way slowly towards the other world. 
 
 Poor Catherine passed the whole night in praying to the 
 Madonna and all the saints in heaven to aid her old lodger, 
 and not allow him to die so young and with so promising a 
 future before him. The young girls, in despair, accused the 
 doctor's medicines, and uttered plaintive cries at each convul- 
 sion of the sick man, who had become delirious. This scene 
 of tears and terror lasted until broad day. Suddenly in an 
 attack of fever, Salvator furiously sprang from the bed, seized 
 all the phials one after the other, and threw them out of the 
 window. The wise Splendiano, who was then entering the 
 house, was copiously inundated with the stinking fluid in the 
 phials, which broke on his head. He ran, squalling strangely : 
 1 ' Master Salvator has become mad! in ten minutes he is a 
 dead man ! Give me the picture, dame Catherine ! I will 
 have it immediately, to pay for my visits ! " 
 
 The old lady opened the chest without saying a word ; but 
 when the doctor saw the rags with which it was filled, his 
 eyes, fringed with scarlet, became inflamed with anger ; he 
 stamped his foot, gritted his teeth, and, devoting the whole 
 house in Bergognona street to all the devils in h — , he flew like 
 a bomb-shell, violently driven from a mortar by an explosion. 
 
 When the fever had left him, Salvator fell back into a state 
 of insensibility again. The good Catherine believing that he 
 was going, ran to the neighboring monastery to seek for 
 father Bonifazio to administer the last sacraments to him. 
 But at the sight of the sick man, the reverend man guessed 
 that his ministry was not yet in season, and that the artist, 
 with judicious care, might escape from it, provided that the 
 door should be immediately shut against the doctor. Wiser 
 remedies soon reestablished an equilibrium in the organs of 
 the sick man. When he opened his eyes again, his first 
 glance fell upon a young man of distinguished exterior, who 
 threw himself on his knees at his bedside, and exclaimed, 
 weeping with joy : 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 231l 
 
 M Oh my excellent, my illustrious master, you are saved !" 
 
 "Where am I ?" murmured Salvator. But the young 
 man, begging him not to speak in his present state of weak- 
 ness, hastened to anticipate his questions. 
 
 "You were sick on arriving from Naples here ; but thanks 
 to God, simple remedies and devoted care would soon have 
 put you on your feet again, if chance had not delivered you 
 into the hands of doctor Pyramid, who was taking strong 
 measures to consign you to the ground." 
 
 i; Who is this," said Salvator, " who is this doctor Pyra- 
 mid '( Is he not a kind of monkey whom I caught sight of 
 during my delirium, and who seemed to wear upon his head 
 the obelisk of Saint Peter's Square?" 
 
 " Would to God," replied the young man, u the name of 
 Pyramid came from his head-dress ! You do not know that 
 this infernal doctor has a monomania for pictures, and that he 
 uses, to augment his gallery, quite a new proceeding ? Mis- 
 fortune to painters, above all foreigners, whom the chance of 
 a bad digestion, or the consequences of an orgie place in his 
 hands ; he muffies them up in a disease of his own invention, 
 the danger of which is wholly in his remedies. Under a fine 
 air of disinterestedness, he stipulates for a picture as the price 
 of his cure, and he is often the heir of the unfortunates whom 
 he hastens to the cemetery in the neighborhood of the Pyra- 
 mid of Cestius. That is the field in which the doctor Splen- 
 diano Accoramboni sows and reaps, surnamed Pyramid by 
 those who escape from his claws. Dame Catherine, who is 
 not rich, had made him believe that you brought a magnificent 
 picture from Naples, and the hope of becoming possessor of 
 it stimulated the zeal of this executioner. Very fortunate 
 for you, in your delirium you broke over bis head his poison- 
 ous phials, and, believing you in extremity, dame Catherine 
 called in father Bonifazio, to whom I owe the happiness of 
 being near you. We combatted, by a moderate bleeding, the 
 inflammation of your blood, then we brought you to this little 
 chamber which you formerly occupied. Here, here is your 
 
232 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 easel, and several sketches that dame Catherine kept as relics 
 of you. You will return to health, to glory ; this is more 
 than is necessary for the happiness of your poor servant 
 Antonia Scacciati, who desired nothing so much as to see 
 once in his life the celebrated Salvator Rosa ! " 
 
 " I cannot guess," said Salvator, " what motives animate 
 the affectionate sentiments that you express towards me." 
 
 " Permit me," continued the young man, "to still keep 
 silence; but when you are recovered, I will confide to you a 
 great secret." 
 
 " Dispose of me," replied Salvator, "for I know not the 
 face of a man that I have contemplated with more interest 
 than yours ; the more I look at you, the more I seem to find 
 in your features resemblance to those of the divine Sanzio ! ' ' 
 
 At these words, his eyes flashed like lightning, but he 
 did not answer. The good Catherine entered the little cham- 
 ber, followed by father Bonifazio, who offered Salvator an ex- 
 cellent strengthening cordial. 
 
 A very few days after, our artist, perfectly recovered, took 
 up his pencil again and drew several sketches, which he pro- 
 posed executing in oil. Antonio very seldom quitted him ; 
 he was present during his hours of labor, and often made 
 observations which announced very advanced practical notions. 
 
 " Listen," said Salvator to him, one day, "you understand 
 too well the rules of the art to allow me not to believe that 
 you have yourself handled the pencil." 
 
 " Remember, my dear master," answered Antonio, that I 
 spoke to you during your illness, of a secret that consumes 
 my heart ; the time seems to have come for me to open my 
 mind to you. Why should I conceal from you that Antonio 
 Scacciati, the poor surgeon who, God aiding, saved your life, 
 burns like yourself with the most ardent love for art? " 
 
 " Truly, think well of it, dear Antonio, from skilful sur- 
 geon that you are, do not become a moderate painter ; are you 
 not a little too old for a study which would require a whole 
 lifetime?" 
 
SALVATOR ROSA- * 283 
 
 "Ought I to tell you," continued Seaeciati, "that I have 
 worked at it from my earliest youth, and that in spite of all 
 the opposition of my father, I have already been with several 
 great artists ? Annibal Carraeci has advised me, and I con- 
 fess myself the pupil of Guido RenL" 
 
 " In that case," exclaimed Salvator, in a voice slightly 
 moved, and through which appeared a little irony, " if you 
 are, as I believe, the worthy pupil to such high talent, how 
 can you find in my humble paintings the least merit ? " 
 
 Antonio's face became scarlet, but he continued quickly : 
 "Allow me to tell you all. I have never, I swear to you* 
 venerated the talent of any master so much as I have done 
 yours ; I admire the sublime elevation of ideas which breathes 
 in your works. You know how to bring to light the most secret 
 beauties of nature, you read in her mysterious books; you 
 understand her voice, and you depict her to the life on the 
 canvas ! ' ' 
 
 "A thousand thanks," interrupted Salvator, "you repeat 
 those fine words to me after the manner of the jealous, who 
 abandon landscape to me in order to make room for themselves 
 in the historic style. In effect, have I the least knowledge in 
 the world of how to sketch the human figure ! " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, master, do not be angry; the real 
 painters in Rome would be too happy to copy after you ! 
 No, the vulgar term landscape cannot be applied to your 
 pictures ; they are living scenes from which the thoughts 
 spring in luminous features, which attest the independence of 
 a creation, even when you seem to imitate nature. That is 
 the sign of true genius, as Guido Reni and Pietri the Cala- 
 brian say, painters who know how to work conscientiously ! " 
 
 Salvator listened to the young man in astonishment. When 
 he had ended, he threw himself into his arms. 
 
 " You have just spoken," said he, "with an understanding 
 
 of art much, superior to that of many false artists who praise 
 
 the vulgar. Whilst listening to you, it seemed to me that 
 
 my genius revealed itself to me ! Be my friend, Seaeciati, 
 
 20* 
 
284 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 for my soul has just opened itself to your own. Come and 
 show me the pictures on which you have worked in secret.'' 
 
 Antonio led him into his studio. Salvator examined the 
 work for a long time, then he broke the silence : — " Young 
 man, there is no mediocrity here, and you have received from 
 heaven the vocation of an artist ; but time and practice are 
 requisite before you can attain the perfection of your masters. 
 I will not tell you that you possess the delicate touch of Guido 
 nor the vigor of Annibal ; but, certainly, you leave far behind 
 our colorists of the Aadcemy of San-Luca, the Tiarini, les 
 Gessi, the Sementa and many others, comprising Lanfranco, 
 who only knows how to paint frescoes. But, yet, dear Anto- 
 nio, I should still hesitate, in your place, between the lancet 
 and the pencil. Art, do you see, becomes every day more 
 ungrateful, and the devil is making war upon us ! If you 
 have not the resolution to submit to all kinds of affronts, 
 injustice, and disgust,— for the more talent you have, the 
 more envious and false friends you will have, — if you have 
 not the strength of the martyrs, believe me, you had better 
 give up the art. Remember the fate of the great Annibal, 
 your master, whom the baseness of his enviers deprived of 
 the fruits of his great labors, and who died poor in prime of 
 life ; remember our Dominiquin and the Cupola of Saint 
 Janvier ! Two cowardly rivals, Belisario and Pubera, did 
 they not bribe his servant to mix ashes with his lime, so that 
 his painting, deprived of temper, fell in scales under his de- 
 spairing hand ! Take care, Antonio, measure well your 
 strength ; for as soon as your courage fails, talent dies." 
 
 " I accept the struggle ! " exclaimed Scacciati with an in- 
 spired voice ; " and since you have proclaimed me painter, it is 
 in you that I place my trust. You can by a word place me 
 in the position which belongs to me." 
 
 " You have faith in me," said Salvator. " Well, I will sus- 
 tain you with all my heart." 
 
 Saying this,, he looked over the paintings of Scacciati again, 
 and stopping before a Magdalen at the feet of the Saviour :— 
 
SALVAT0K ROSA- 
 
 28a 
 
 " Here," continued he, " you have strayed from your subject. 
 Your Magdalen is not the penitent sinner, she is more like a 
 graceful child, such as Guido might have created. This 
 charming face breathes with the magic of inspiration, and I 
 am much mistaken if the original of this Magdalen is not be to 
 found in Rome. Confess, Antonio, that you are in love ! " 
 
 The young man lowered his eyes, and answered hesitat- 
 ingly - — « Nothing then escapes from your observation 1 You 
 have surprised my secret, but do not condemn me ! Yes, I 
 like that picture above all, and until to-day I have carefully 
 kept it from sight." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Salvator, "have none of our painters 
 seen that canvas ? " 
 44 I swear it to you ! " 
 
 " In that case, you will soon be revenged on the rivals 
 who wish to discourage you. Will you immediately carry 
 that picture to my house, and leave the rest to me? " 
 
 " I will do so, master, and you shall afterwards listen to 
 the story of my love, and you will give me advice and as- 
 sistance ? ' ' 
 
 "Now and always," said Salvator. And taking leave of 
 Antonio, he added : "Listen, young man : when you told 
 me that you were a painter, I remember with what emotion 
 I found that you resembled Sanzio. I thought that I saw 
 another of those young fools who copy the costume, the fash- 
 ions, the beard and the hair of an illustrious master, and who 
 make themselves imitators of a talent that they can never 
 possess. But now, I repeat to you, I have seen in your 
 painting a spark of the sacred fire which animated the works 
 of Raphael. 
 
 On hearing these words from the master, the artist's eyes 
 sparkled. The phantom of glory appeared to him in the future, 
 followed and surrounded by an endless retinue of illusions. — 
 Raphael Sanzio ! — The echo of this divine name resounded 
 in his ear, like the voice of his good genius, and the protection 
 of Salvator was about to make real the wishes of his whole 
 life. 
 
236 1iObi:Ai\:-... STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 When ho left the little house in Bergognona street, his joy 
 proclaimed itself in all his movements ; the radiant smile of 
 hope animated his features ; glory and love, those gods of 
 youth were coming to him to carry him off to their heaven ; 
 there was enough in this dream to render delirious a less 
 ardent head than that of Antonio Scacciati. His Magdalen 
 at the feet of Christ appeared to his eyes of inestimable price, 
 since the eulogium bestowed upon it by Salvator. He felt 
 proud and worthy of the original, since this copy of an angelic 
 face had risen him to the rank of a master. He awaited with 
 anxiety the result of the promises of his friend. 
 
 At some time from this, the day came when the Academy of 
 San-Luca opened in the church the annual exhibition of paint- 
 ings. Salvator had Scacciati's Magdalen carried there : the 
 masters of San-Luca were surprised at the vigor of the color- 
 ing and. the gracefulness of the drawing, and as soon as Sal- 
 vator opened his mouth to announce that this marvellous 
 painting was the work of a poor artist who had died at Naples, 
 these gentlemen exhausted themselves in eulogiums and ad- 
 miration ; the whole of the inhabitants of Rome were soon 
 invited to see this legacy of genius. They all agreed in say- 
 ing that since the time of Guido lleni nothing so beautiful 
 had appeared ; the most enthusiastic went so far as to place 
 the beautiful Magdalen above all that Guido had done. 
 
 In the thickest of the crowd who w T ere praising the work 
 of Scacciati, Salvator found one day, a man of strange aspect ; 
 he was a middle-aged man, tall and thin, with a thin face 
 ornamented with two red eyes, with a long pointed nose, and 
 a long chin covered with a bunch of grey hair. This unique 
 look was framed in a kind of stringy wig, surmounted by a 
 high crowned hat with a plume ; a little brown mantle very 
 scant, garnished with bright buttons, a Spanish doublet slashed 
 with blue, a rapier nobly rusted, clear grey stockings which 
 showed the knee-pan, and shoes loaded with pink bows, com- 
 pleted his costume. This uncommon personage seemed to be 
 in ecstacies before the Magdalen ; now raising himself on the 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 237 
 
 points of his toes, then dropping clown again ; moving his 
 legs forward and back, uttering suppressed sighs, shutting his 
 eyes until the tears flowed, then opening them again like tele- 
 scopes, he devoured with his looks the angelic painting, lisp- 
 ing, in his sharp falsetto : 
 
 ''Ah, dearest, most blessed ! Ah, most beautiful Marianna I" 
 
 Salvator curious to study nearer this living mummy, made 
 his way through the crowd and placed himself near the un- 
 known, to try and learn the motive that detained him before 
 Scacciati's painting. Without noticing Salvator, the man 
 cursed his poverty, that deprived him of the happiness of 
 buying a picture which he would have been willing, at the 
 price of a million, to withdraw from every profane gaze. 
 Then he recommenced dancing about, giving thanks to the 
 Virgin and to all the saints for the death of the painter who 
 had executed this marvellous work. Salvator thought that 
 this man had lost his wits. 
 
 Meanwhile, nothing was talked of in Rome but this famous 
 Magdalen ; and when the Academicians of San-Luca met 
 again to elect candidates to the vacant places, Salvator asked 
 if the author of the master-piece, which was talked of in the 
 city, was worthy of being admitted into the illustrious society. 
 All, without even excepting the quarrelsome Josepin, were 
 unanimous in deploring the loss of so eminent an artist, but 
 whom, in the bottom of their hearts, they were glad to be rid of. 
 
 They carried hypocrisy so far as to decide that the palm of 
 the academy should be awarded to the departed, and that a 
 solemn mass should be said every year, in the church of San- 
 Luca, for the repose of his soul. As soon as this resolution 
 was taken, Salvator rose in the midst of the assembly : 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," exclaimed he, "console yourselves; 
 the glorious prize with which you were about to honor the 
 ashes of a dead man, you can give into the hands of a 
 living one. Know that the Magdalen at the Saviour's feet, 
 this painting that you have praised above all the productions 
 of our time, is not the work of a Neapolitan painter who died 
 
~38 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 in poverty and obscurity ; its author is by your side, he is in 
 Home ; he is Antonio Scacciati, the surgeon ! " 
 
 The painters of San-Luca looked at Salvator with astonish- 
 ment. The great artist diverted himself awhile with the 
 critical position in which he had placed them ; then he added : 
 "Until now, my masters, you have rejected Antonio from 
 your college, on account of his humble profession ; for myself, 
 I think that a surgeon would be very much in place in the 
 noble Academy of San-Luca to adjust the distorted figures 
 which come from time to time from the hands of some of our 
 painters." 
 
 The gentlemen of San-Luca quietly swallowed the pill ; 
 they pretended to render justice to the genius of Antonio 
 Scacciati, and proceeded to his reception with the accustomed 
 ceremonial. 
 
 This news was hardly known, when congratulations were 
 received on every hand ; offers of service, and orders for great 
 works beseiged Antonio's studio. A word from Salvator 
 had raised him from obscurity. Glory and fortune smiled 
 upon him, — what could be wanting to complete his happiness? 
 Great then, was the surprise of Salvator on seeing him enter 
 his house one day, mournful and sad with suffering. 
 
 " Master," said Antonio to him, " of what use is the rank 
 to which you have elevated me ? to what purpose are these 
 honors, this reputation which comes to me, since my unhappi- 
 ness does not quit my bedside ? Do you know, master, that 
 the picture of the Magdalen, which made my glory, also 
 causes my despair ? " 
 
 "Silence!" answered Salvator; "do not insult art by 
 insulting your own work. And as to this unheard of mis- 
 fortune which you deplore, I do not believe in it. You are 
 in love, and your desires anticipate time ; that is all. Lovers 
 are like children. Leave off these complaints, unworthy of a 
 man of courage. Sit down and relate your story, show me 
 the obstacles which oppose themselves to what you believe 
 to be the height of happiness. The more difficult these 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 239 
 
 obstacles are to surmount, the more interest I shall take in 
 them." 
 
 At these words, he took up his brush again, and Scaeciati, 
 seated near his easel, thus commenced : 
 
 " In Ripetta street rises a house, whose balcony is remarked 
 as soon as you enter the city by the Popolo gate. There 
 resides the strangest and most whimsical personage in Eome ; 
 an old bachelor, hunted down by ail the miseries of life, vain 
 as a peacock, miserly as a Jew, giving himself the airs of a 
 young man, as dandified as a duke, and what is worse, in 
 love ; physically a vine stalk in Spanish doublet, with a faded 
 wig, a plumed hat, gauntlet gloves, and a rapier. 5 ' 
 
 " Halt there ! " exclaimed Salvator ; and turning over the 
 canvas on which he was working, he took a piece of chalk 
 and sketched in two or three lines the profile of the personage 
 that he had seen before Antonio's picture. 
 
 " By all the saints/' exclaimed Antonio, without being 
 able, in spite of his sorrow, to refrain from laughing, " that 
 is truly the man, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi ! " 
 
 " Well, then," continued Salvator, " since I already know 
 your rival, go on." 
 
 " Signor Pasquale Capuzzi," said Antonio, " is as rich as 
 he is miserly and pretentious. There is nothing good in him 
 except his passion for the arts, above all, music and painting ; 
 but he spoils this taste by so deplorable a mania, that even 
 on this side his heart and his purse are inaccessible. Add to 
 this, that he believes himself the best composer in the world, 
 and singer, the like of whom the pope's chapel does not pos- 
 sess. He also calls our old Frescobaldi a novice ; and when 
 Rome is in ecstacies at Ceccarelli's concerts, Pasquale says that 
 he sings like a postillion's boot ; but as the celebrated Ceeca- 
 relli, first singer to the pope, bears the name of Odoardo Cec- 
 carelli de Merania, our Capuzzi, to show his contempt, calls 
 himself, pompously, Signor Pasquale Capuzzi de Senigaglia ; 
 that b the name of the village where, it is said, his mother 
 brought him into the world before his time, being seized frith 
 a sudden fright, at the sight of a monstrous fish, 
 
240 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 *' In his youth, Capuzzi produced on the stage an opera, 
 which was pitilessly hissed ; and, far from being cured by 
 this fall, of the desire to pain the ears of others, he dared to 
 say of Francesco Cavalli, the celebrated author of the Mar- 
 riage of Thetis and Pelee, that this chapel master had bor- 
 rowed some of his sublimest melodies from him. He has, in 
 addition to this, a mania for singing, and accompanies himself 
 on a miserable guitar, which is dragged everywhere after him 
 by an ugly dwarf, whom he makes his Pylades, and who is known 
 by all Rome under the name of Pitichinaccio. To these two 
 
 personages is harnessed that d d doctor Pyramid, who 
 
 brays like a lost donkey, all the time imagining that he pos- 
 sesses a bass which rivals that of Martinelli. These three 
 demons perch themselves every evening on the balcony in 
 Eipetta street, to the great annoyance of the neighborhood. 
 
 " My father formerly had free access to this madman, 
 whose wig and beard he adjusted. After his death, I inher- 
 ited his practice, and Capuzzi was at first charmed with my visits, 
 for I knew how, better than any one else, to give a unique 
 turn of coquetry to his moustache, and I had, above all, the 
 civility to receive, whilst bowing to the ground, so trifling a 
 salary, that an apprentice would not have accepted it. It is 
 true that master Capuzzi thought to do things liberally by 
 splitting my ears every night with a new air of his own com- 
 position. That was the comedy ; here is the drama : 
 
 " One day when I reached my patient's house, a door 
 opens, and I find myself in the presence of an angel ; yes, an 
 angel ! it was my Magdalen. I stopped in my embarrassment, 
 trembling with emotion ; love had entered my heart at first 
 sight ! The old man Capuzzi, gratified at my surprise, said 
 to me smilingly, that this beautiful girl was his niece, that 
 she was called Marianna, and that the poor orphan had no one 
 in the world to depend upon except himself. From that day, 
 Capuzzi's house became a paradise for me ; but I sought in 
 vain, all means, all opportunities to meet Marianna alone. An 
 evil genius prevented it ; some fugitive glances, some hidden 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA. ' 241 
 
 signs were the only proofs that made me hope that I should 
 be loved. The old monkey undoubtedly perceived this, for 
 he pretty clearly gave me to understand that it was not to 
 his taste. I dared to throw myself at his feet and confess my 
 love to him. His answer was a burst of laughter, and he 
 scornfully told me to go back to my barber's shop. 
 
 In the delirium of my despair, I proclaimed that I was 
 not a vile reaper of chins, that I had studied surgery with 
 success, and that in painting I followed the style of Annibal 
 Caracci and the inimitable Guido Reni. This simplicity pro- 
 cured for me another attack of mockery; and the old Cerebus 
 pushing me towards the door, tried to throw me down stairs. 
 Reduced to the necessity of using the right of legitimate 
 defence, I tumbled over, with all possible gentleness, the 
 ferocious guardian of Marianna ; but from that day his door was 
 closed to me ! This was the condition of things when you 
 came to Rome, and heaven inspired the worthy father Boni- 
 fazio with the idea of introducing me to you. Since when, 
 thanks to your support, I have taken a place in the Academy 
 of San-Luca ; as Rome applauds my efforts, I took courage to 
 go to Capuzzi ; I produced on him the effect of a spectre. 
 Profiting by his stupor, I gravely asked him if a surgeon, 
 crowned with the palm of San-Luca, was worthy of aspiring 
 to the hand of Marianna. This name operated upon him 
 like an electric shock. He raved about, he howled like a 
 demon, saying that I was an assassin, that I had stolen his 
 niece from him by copying her features upon canvas ; that 
 she was his delight, his life, his heaven ; that he would like 
 to burn me, together with my accursed studio and my hateful 
 picture ! 
 
 The exasperation of the worthy man, who began to cry out, 
 murder, robbers, made me fear some misfortune, and I quick- 
 ly fled, rage in my heart and death in my soul ! The old 
 Capuzzi is madly in love with his niece ; he watches her with 
 all the precautions of an atrocious jealousy, and if he obtains 
 21 
 
242 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 a dispensation from the pope, he will forcibly marry her. I 
 am the most unfortunate of men ! " 
 
 " On the contrary,"" said Salvator, " you are near the reali- 
 zation of your hopes; Marianna loves you ; it will only be 
 necessary to withdraw her from the tyranny of Capuzzi. — 
 Return to your studio, keep quiet, and come and see me 
 again to-morrow, at day break, to draw up our plan of attack." 
 
 II. 
 
 Salvator made such good use of his time, that on the fol- 
 lowing day he related to his friend Antonio all the details of 
 Capuzzi's mode of living :■ — " Poor Marianna is on the rack; 
 her argus exhales in sighs, and from morning to night he 
 besieges her with silliness, or sings, in order to soften her, 
 the ridiculous airs which he has himself composed.. More 
 than this, he is so jealous, that he will not allow the poor 
 child to have any other human creature to serve her, than 
 the hideous Pitichinaccio, disguised as a duenna. If the 
 hoary wretch absents himself, gratings and bolts do their 
 office within, whilst a kind of porter, a reformed robber, guarels 
 the house door. To enter by force is hardly practicable ; and 
 yet, to-morrow night, I will, dear Antonio, place you once 
 more in the presence of Capuzzi and your beautiful Marianna/" 
 " Good heaven ! can it be ! by what means?" 
 "Chance," continued Salvator, "has already connected 
 me with Pasquale Capuzzi. Look, that dilapidated and 
 worm-eaten spinet in the corner, belongs to the old madman, 
 to whom I still owe the price of it, ten ducats. Wishing to 
 amuse, by a little music, the tiresome moments of my con- 
 valesence, dame Catherine procured for me this miserable 
 instrument, which was brought from Ripetta street. I did 
 not think at first either of the price of the thing or of the 
 proprietor, and it was only yesterday that I learned that 
 honest Capuzzi had taken me for a dupe. Now, give me the 
 whole of your attention. Every clay, towards dark, when 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 243 
 
 the abortion Pitichinaccio has finished his functions of cham- 
 ber-maid, signor Pasquale takes him in his arms, and " 
 
 At this moment, Salvator's door was noisily opened, and 
 signor Pasquale Capuzzi appeared in person, and richly cap- 
 arisoned, to the eyes of the two friends. At the sight of 
 Scaceiati, a shock, like the effect produced by the torpedo, 
 stopped him short, breathless and stupified. Salvator arose, 
 and taking him by both hands : 
 
 " Indeed, my worthy lord," said he to him, "your visit 
 fills me with joy ; is the purpose of it to see my new produc- 
 tions, or to give me an order ? In what manner can I serve 
 you?" 
 
 " I come expressly to see you," stammered Capuzzi ; "but, 
 as I want to talk alone with you, we will put it off until a 
 more convenient time." 
 
 "God forbid," replied Salvator ; " you cannot choose your 
 time better ; and I congratulate myself on being able to 
 make you acquainted with the first artist in Rome, Antonio 
 Scaceiati, author of the famous Magdalen at the feet of Christ." 
 
 At these words, the old man trembled every limb ; his red 
 eyes flashed furious looks at poor Antonio, who, concentrating 
 all his remaining self-possession, made, nevertheless, the most 
 careless and easy salutation, adding, in the tone of a great 
 lord, and emphasizing every syllable, that he judged himself 
 too happy at such a meeting, and at being able to salute a 
 man, who, of all Italy, possessed in the highest degree the 
 love of science and the arts. 
 
 Capuzzi, swallowing his anger in favor of this warm eulo- 
 gium, screwed his mouth into a smile, twirled his moustache, 
 and, after several " I thank you's," inarticulately uttered, he 
 hastened to remind Salvator of his little debt of ten ducats : 
 
 " I am at your orders for that trifle," said the painter, 
 * ' but will you please to throw a glance on this sketch, and 
 accept a goblet of excellent Syracuse ?" 
 
 And, suiting the action to the word, Salvator placed his 
 easel in the most favorable light for the drawing he wished to 
 
244 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 show, then, offering an oak chair to Capuzzi, he hastened to 
 fill, before him, a fine agate cup, in which sparkled the pre- 
 cious liquor that he was proud to offer to his new guest. The 
 eyes of Marianna's tyrant shone like carbuncles at the sight 
 of the generous wine poured out for him by the artist. He 
 slowly bent his head, as if to collect himself whilst discussing 
 this exquisite beverage ; then raising his eyes, long hidden 
 beneath his withered eyelids, he several times caressed his 
 long grey moustache, murmuring, in a low voice : — " Divine ! 
 Perfect ! Admirable ! " Without its being possible for those 
 present to guess if this too strange personage gave his opin- 
 ion of the Syracuse juice, or Salvator's painting. 
 
 Salvator took this opportunity to attack him boldly : 
 
 " Have I not heard, my worthy lord, that you possess an 
 admirable niece ? Nothing is talked of, in Ripetta street, so 
 much as the charms of Marianna. All those who have seen 
 her become sleepless ; and I know that more than one young 
 man of noble race, who has caught cold whilst watching, for 
 a look, a smile from that delicious girl, through the thick glass 
 of the balcony in front of your house." 
 
 The old man frowned ; his answer was short and awkward : 
 " Indeed," said he, " the young men of our time are troubled 
 with a strange perversity. When their e} r es have plotted the 
 dishonor of a poor orphan, there is no seduction which they 
 are not ready to become guilty of. I do not say that for my 
 niece, master Salvator ; Marianna is assuredly very pretty ; 
 but, after all, we ought still to look upon her as a careless, 
 frolicksome child." 
 
 Salvator, in order not to lose ground, changed his pro- 
 ceedings, and had recourse to the flagon of Syracuse before 
 renewing the assault. 
 
 " But, at least, my dear signor Capuzzi, you will not refuse 
 to tell me if this niece, whom you prize so highly, this ravish- 
 ing Marianna, that all Rome is now making the whole subject 
 of their conversations, has light hair, or brown, or even black, 
 and if by chance she is not the admirable original of the pic- 
 
S ALT AT OR ROSA. 245 
 
 ture of the Magdalen at the feet of Christ, which the acade- 
 micians of San-Luca had judged so unseasonably, — so little 
 in conformity with the ordinary rules of equity.'' 
 
 " What do I know about it, and what can I tell you? " 
 repeated Capuzzi, accompanying his language with actions in 
 which very little cordiality was manifested ; " will you have 
 the kindness to allow," added he, " a change of the subject 
 of conversation ? This excites in me nervous impressions 
 which are very painful." 
 
 This management was repeated so long and so well, that 
 signor Capuzzi, pushed from his self-possession by the artist's 
 questions, bounded about like a tiger-cat, and pushing back 
 his half filled goblet, exclaimed in his owl-like voice : — " By 
 all the devils in hell, you have given me some kind of poison, 
 in order to play upon me some infamous trick with that ac- 
 cursed Antonio ! But I will set things to rights. Think of 
 immediately paying me the ten ducats which are due me, and 
 after that, Satan take you." 
 
 " How," cried Salvator, " dare you insult me in this man- 
 ner in my own house ? You want ten ducats for a worm- 
 eaten spinet ? Ten ducats ! no ! not even five, nor three, 
 not even an obole of copper ! " And suiting the action to 
 the words, he kicked the unfortunate instrument, from which 
 each blow made the splinters fly about the room. 
 
 " But there are laws in Borne ! there are judges ! " howled 
 Capuzzi ; " I will let you rot in a dungeon ! I " 
 
 As he was trying to reach the door, Salvator seized him 
 with an iron hand, and nailed him to the seat he had just 
 left. 
 
 " "Well, my very worthy signor Pasquale," said he to him 
 with the most velvety accent he knew how to assume, " do 
 you not see, that all this is a game ? Ten ducats for your 
 spinet, — for such a master-piece ? not so, you shall have 
 thirty for it." 
 
 This promise, uttered with the greatest seriousness, had a 
 magical effect . Pasquale Capuzzi no longer spoke of a prison, 
 21* 
 
246 HOFFMANN'S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 and repeated in a low voice : — " Thirty ducats ! thirty ducats 
 for such a master-piece ! " 
 
 Then, fixing his eyes upon the artist : 
 
 " But do you know, master Salvator, that you have cruelly 
 treated meV 
 
 " Thirty ducats ! " answered the painter. 
 
 " But," added Capuzzi, "you have outraged me in an 
 unworthy manner ! " 
 
 "Forty ducats," continued Salvator, " and I promise you 
 not to think any more about it, provided you find it agreeable 
 to subscribe to a trifling condition. You are, master Pas- 
 quale Capuzzi de Senegaglia, the greatest composer in Italy, 
 and more than that, the most exquisite singer in the universe. 
 I have heard with enthusiasm the grand scene from the opera 
 of Le Nozze di Teti et Peleo, of which that miserable Francesco 
 Cavalli has stolen the divine melody : will you, whilst I put 
 the spinet in order again, sing us that scene ? I shall owe 
 you, on my part, an eternal gratitude for it." 
 
 Pasquale Capuzzi so well enjoyed this astounding eulogium, 
 that his whole physiognomy was distorted by an ineffable 
 grimace ; the muscles of his thin face were puffed out, and 
 his infinitely little red eyes sparkled under a convulsion of 
 the optic nerve, which gave to his looks an expression of 
 satisfied malice that no words could describe. 
 
 "But, I am," said he to Salvator, "your very humble 
 servant, for you appear yourself to be in possession of a most 
 exquisite musical taste ; your tact in matters of harmony 
 announces the most severe study, and I believe that art would 
 make enormous progress, if the wits of Rome would take 
 your judgment for a guide. Listen, signor painter, listen to 
 my favorite air ; I am not lavish of my compositions, but you 
 are capable of appreciating them, and I will treat you like a 
 friend." 
 
 Salvator, taken in his snare, prayed God in his heart, to 
 make him deaf at least for that day. 
 
 "You load me with joy at the honor," answered he with 
 an inward suffering, worthy of this lie, 
 
SALVATOIt ROSA. 247 
 
 Nothing could describe the monstrous smile of the old fel- 
 low ; he began, by putting on a look of his grey eyes, whilst 
 trying to catch the key-note of his air ; then raising himself 
 on his toes, throwing about his puny aims like the wings of 
 an old cock, he burst out into so formidable a bellowing, that 
 the walls of the studio trembled. 
 
 Dame Catherine and her daughters ran at the noise, think- 
 ing that some misfortune had happened. Judge of their sur- 
 prise at the sight of the excited, virtuoso, who was not dis- 
 concerted by their presence. Salvator had taken up the 
 damaged spinet, and on the case of it he began to paint the 
 scene which he had before his eyes. Capuzzi, Antonio, 
 Catherine and her daughters were perfectly delineated, and 
 doctor Pyramid, although absent, was not forgotten. Mean- 
 while, the indefatigable Capuzzi, desirous of earning his forty 
 ducats, did not spare the deafened audience a single one of his 
 infernal airs ; at the end of two long hours, exhausted, and 
 in a profuse perspiration, his face purple and his veins violet 
 colored, he sank voiceless into a seat. 
 
 Salvator placed in front of him his picture, improvised on 
 the spinet case. Capuzzi looked at it long and attentively, 
 rubbing his eyes to assure himself that he was not dreaming. 
 Suddenly crowding his hat upon his wig, he took his cane 
 in one hand, and, with the other, plucking from its hinges 
 Salvator 's sketch, he threw himself down the staircase like a 
 chased thief. 
 
 Go, then, old madman," exclaimed Salvator, " Count Colon- 
 na or my friend Eosi, will pay you dearly for tin's caprice of 
 my brush ! " 
 
 When Capuzzi had departed, Salvator and Antonio raised 
 all their batteries with consummate art against this terrible 
 adversary. It was decided that they should attack, the fol- 
 lowing night, the fortress of Ripetta street. The two friends 
 separated to attend, each one in his way, to the most urgent 
 preparations. 
 
 That same evening, at dark, Signor Pasquale shut and 
 
248 HOFFMANN'S STRANGE STORIES 
 
 carefully bolted all the doors ; then taking Pitichinaccio under 
 his arm, he carried him back to his own house. On the way, 
 the abortion loudly complained, (being so badly paid to sing 
 every day Capuzzi's airs, or in burning his fingers to make 
 the maccaroni boil,) of adding to that labor the more difficult 
 still, of serving the beautiful Marianna, who loaded him with 
 buffets and kicks, every time he came near her to fulfil his 
 duties of valet de chambre. The old man consoled him and 
 filled his mouth with sweetmeats to make him hold his tongue ; 
 he even added that he would have cut for him an abbe's coat 
 out of his oldest doublet ; Pitchinaccio required besides, to 
 seal the peace, a wig and a rapier. It was disputing in this 
 manner that they reached Bergognona, where Pitchinaccio lived, 
 near Salvator's studio. Capuzzi placed the dwarf on his crooked 
 feet, opened the door, and they both ascended, one behind 
 the other, a staircase as straight and steep as a ladder leading 
 to a hen-house. 
 
 When they had reached the middle of the stairs, a frightful 
 racket shook the building : it was a drunken man who was 
 asking, with loud oaths, the way to get out of this house of 
 h — 1. Pitichinaccio hugged the wall, and begged Capuzzi 
 to pass on before : but hardly had the honorable citizen of 
 Sengaglia ascended several steps, than the drunken man, 
 loosing his equilibrium, fell upon him, and drove him like an 
 avalanche into the street. 
 
 Capuzzi was sorely bruised on the pavement, and the drunk- 
 ard, like a filled sack, quietly crushed him, without saying a 
 word. At his cries of distress, two passers-by stopped ; they 
 picked up Pasquale, who rubbed his shins, whilst the drunk- 
 ard, who appeared to be a little sobered by this event, went 
 off without offering any excuse and, cursing him heartily. 
 
 " Good heaven ! Signor Pasquale, what are you doing here 
 at this time, in this situation ? what misfortune has happened 
 to you?" 
 
 "Ah ! my noble lords, I am nearly killed ! that hell-hound 
 has broken all my limbs ! " 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA. 249 
 
 " Let us see ! " exclaimed Antonio, (for Capuzzi's deliver- 
 ers were our two artists,) " let us see ! " 
 
 And, feeling of the thin carcase of his enemy, he pinched 
 his right leg so forcibly that the patient made a terrible out- 
 cry. 
 
 "Ah, my worthy sir, your left leg is broken ; the case is 
 very serious, and you are in danger of dying or remaining 
 crippled for life." 
 
 "Alas ! my dear Jesus ! " sighed Capuzzi, in a mournful 
 voice. 
 
 " Courage," replied Antonio ; "although I am a painter 
 and an academician of San-Luca, I have not forgotten surgery. 
 "We will carry you to Salvator's house, and I will see that 
 you are well taken care of." 
 
 " But, my excellent master Antonio," said Capuzzi, sadly, 
 " I know that you have but little cause to be my friend." 
 
 "On the contrary," interrupted Salvator ; " but, in the 
 presence of sufTering, every other sentiment must give way to 
 humanity. Come, Antonio, let us fulfil this duty." 
 
 They then took up the old man, one by the head, and the 
 other by the feet, and they carried him away, not without 
 laughing secretly at his groans. Dame Catherine delivered 
 them a fine disccurse upon charity, without sparing reflections 
 upon Capuzzi. 
 
 " You have received," said she to him, " no more than you 
 deserve ; God punishes you for tormenting your niece ; for 
 you are a jealous brute, a true tyrant j and if you do not die 
 in consequence of this accident, may you profit by the lesson ; 
 provide yourself with friends, if you can, and try to let your 
 little Marianna see a little of the sun. Is it not an odious 
 thing to treat as you do so pretty a girl, so sweet and so 
 loving ? And are you not ashamed to shut her up under the 
 guard of such a monster as Pitchinaccio ? Do you not fear 
 that all the young people in the city will rise some day against 
 a like oppression? And tell me, then, if you dare, why you 
 dress up your miserable dwarf in a duenna's robe ? What 
 
250 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 do you do with this Cerebus, who is not worth a kick V Look 
 here, my poor signor, in the state which I find you, listen for 
 once seriously to my representations, for fear that it should 
 cost you dearer soon. When any one has, like yourself, so 
 gentle a dove in a cage, it is not kind to treat it like an owl. 
 If your heart was not dried up and your mind was not crip- 
 pled, would you not be, all day long, studying to guess and 
 anticipate the least caprices of Marianna V Take care of the 
 justice of God, my very honored master ; and if he allows 
 you to recover, offer him, as expiation for your unworthy pro- 
 ceeding, the marriage of your niece w T ith a fine young gentle- 
 man who seems to have fallen from the sky expressly for her 
 happiness.'' 
 
 This long sermon was delivered from beginning to end by 
 the severe Catherine, whilst the two painters were putting the 
 unfortunate Capuzzi in close confinement between two sheets. 
 The poor devil was so well convinced of the entire dislocation 
 of his individual self, that he dared neither stir nor breathe. 
 Antonio made signs to prevent him from speaking, and he 
 suddenly begged dame Catherine to procure for him, as quickly 
 as possible, a good quantity of iced water. As to the injury, 
 it was trifling, and the danger only existed in the disturbed 
 brain of Capuzzi. The person ambuscaded in the house where 
 Pitichinaccio resided, had played his part to perfection ; the 
 old man's fall had produced no other consequence than a few 
 contusions, of no great severity, which were attested suffi- 
 ciently by several black and blue spots on Capuzzi's blistered 
 skin. 
 
 Capuzzi had been taken in a snare, for the whole adventure 
 of that night was the contrivance of Salvator. Antonio tied 
 up the good man's leg in splints, so as to prevent him from 
 moving ; he also enveloped him in compresses dipped in iced 
 water, which he often renewed, under the pretence of pre- 
 venting the inflammation. The poor devil, thus tied up, 
 shivered in every limb. 
 
 "My good master, Antonio," said he 5 from time to time, 
 <; do you think that I shall escape from it? " 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA. 
 
 251 
 
 " We shall see/' replied the artist, " I shall do my best to 
 get you out of this scrape ; but— — >" 
 
 ' 'Ah, my dear, my excellent friend, do not abandon me!" 
 . *' You really say that, but you have treated me very 
 severely ! " 
 
 " Forget it, then, I beg of you ! " 
 
 "I am satisfied to do so," continued Antonio ; " but your 
 niece, your niece must feel uneasy at your absence ; she will 
 die with anguish if she does not see you back again ; so that, 
 I think it would be prudent to have you transported to your 
 own house ; there I will look at the dressing again, and I will 
 instruct Marianna in the care it will be necessary to take to 
 hasten your cure." 
 
 At the remembrance of Marianna, Capuzzi shut his eyes 
 and recollected himself for a moment ; then he held out his 
 hand to Antonio, and, drawing him towards him : — " Swear 
 to me, my good sir, that you have no project against the 
 repose of my niece." 
 
 "I swear it to you ! " replied Antonio ; "and you can have 
 the same confidence in my words as you have in my care ; I 
 do not conceal from you that this little Marianna attracted me 
 the first time that chance threw me in her way ; I even had 
 the weakness to reproduce, from remembrance, and feature 
 for feature, her face in the picture of the Magdalen at the 
 feet of the Saviour ; but, in truth, it was nothing, as I am 
 aware, but the passion of an artist. I esteem your niece: 
 she is a piquant young girl, and I thought for a moment that 
 I loved her; but I have, now, other affairs in hand." 
 
 ' 'Ah, my dear friend, you do not love Marianna? Say so, 
 repeat it again ! this is a divine balm that you are pouring 
 into my wounds ! I feel myself cured, perfectly cured ! " 
 
 "Really," exclaimed Salvator, " if you were not known 
 as a wise and sensible man, it would be thought that you were 
 madly in love with your niece ! " 
 
 At these words Capuzzi shut his eyes again ; his face con- 
 tracted painfully, and he complained of a return of his pain, 
 
252 
 
 HOFFMANN 3 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 Meanwhile, day began to break, Antonio and Salvator 
 raised the mattress of the sick -man, who in vain begged to 
 have the compresses taken off, his wig and moustache ad- 
 justed, in order that his appearance should not frighten Mari- 
 anna. Two laboring men were waiting in the street with a 
 litter, on which they placed Capuzzi. Dame Catherine, who 
 was not in the secret of the artists, wanted to follow him home, 
 to lecture him again as he deserved. She spread over the 
 litter an old worn out cloak, and this procession took the road 
 to Ripetta street. 
 
 Marianna, seeing her uncle in this pitiful state, burst into 
 tears, and covered his wrinkled hands with kisses. It was a 
 touching sight to see this young girl disconsolate for the mis- 
 fortune which had happened to her persecutor ; but such is 
 the quickness of woman's instinct, that a sign from Salvator 
 was sufficient to reveal to her the mystification of which Ca- 
 puzzi was the subject. Modesty was mingled with joy, Mari- 
 anna saw near, her beloved Antonio : a quick blush covered 
 her pale cheeks, and an adorably malicious smile sparkled 
 amidst her tears. Pasquale Capuzzi was so overjoyed with 
 the tender welcome of his niece, that he forgot his hurt, and 
 you could imagine nothing more grotesque than his amorous 
 postures and his lover's sighs. But Antonio did not give 
 him time to recover himself; the splints were removed and 
 more closely bound ; they bundled up the imaginary sick man 
 like a wooden doll, his head buried in a heap of cushions, 
 and Salvator discreetly retired, to leave the two lovers to the 
 unlooked for happiness of seeing each other again. The 
 young girl had appeared to him, in this interview, of admira- 
 ble beauty. That ravishing face was a thousand times more 
 worthy of being traced as the image of the Mother of God 
 than the patron saint of penitent women. The artist felt a 
 touch of jealousy, but it was as evanescent as air, and the 
 natural loyalty of his character immediately dissipated this 
 movement of the passions, caused by a master-piece of grace. 
 Salvator thought no longer of anything except finishing his finest 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 253 
 
 work, by delivering Marianna from the claws of her guardian. 
 The good and sweet child, forgetting the severity of Capuzzi, 
 ran every moment to his bedside to inquire how he felt ; she 
 found herself so sweetly happy in devoting herself to the 
 assuagement of his sufferings, that she abandoned several 
 times a little white hand to his kisses. 
 
 The morrow, at an early hour, Antonio ran to his friend's 
 house, with a disconsolate look. 
 
 "Alas," exclaimed he, " all is lost, all is discovered!" 
 " So much the better," said Salvator; " tell me how it is." 
 " Figure to yourself, that yesterday, on my return to Ca- 
 puzzi's house, which I had only left for a moment, to seek 
 some good purgative medicines, I perceived the old man, 
 dressed from head to foot, at the door, talking with doctor 
 Pyramid. Capuzzi could not be described; he threatened 
 me with his fist, assailed me with curses, and swore that he 
 would have me strangled if ever I stepped my foot into his 
 house again. 'And as for your protector, Salvator,' added 
 he, ' I have ducats enough to settle his account without a 
 trial.' As he was crying out and raving in this manner, 
 aided by doctor Pyramid, who chorused his imprecations, 
 the passers by stopped, and I saw that I was threatened with 
 difficulty, if, plucking up, in spite of my emotion, all the 
 courage and strength I had left, I had not rescued myself by 
 rudely attacking this devilish Capuzzi. This is the second 
 time that I have been obliged to act in this manner towards 
 the uncle and guardian of Marianna ; you see, master, that 
 all is lost ! " 
 
 " By my honor, that is joyful news ! " exclaimed Salvator; 
 ' ' but I knew that long before you told me. Doctor Splendiano 
 Accoramboni, who is in search of all wounds and bruises, has 
 too soon become acquainted with his friend Capuzzi's accident; 
 his zeal became inflamed; he examined the dressings, and 
 not much cunning was necessary to discover the stratagem." 
 "But how do you know all these things ? " 
 1 ' What does it matter ? it is enough to profit by it, and I 
 22 
 
254 Hoffmann's strange stories'. 
 
 shall do my best, since I have become bound to make you 
 succeed. I know, besides, that Marianna possesses the dis- 
 position that inspires love ; she has persuaded old Capuzzi 
 that she was ignorant of our stratagem, and that she much 
 despised it, and that on no account would she allow us to see 
 her again. The old argus, mad with joy, and believing him- 
 self on the eve of an unlooked for happiness, has sworn to 
 grant every wish to Marianna ; she immediately asked to be 
 taken to signor Formica's theatre, near the Popolo gate. — 
 The good man, surprised at this desire, held council wrth 
 doctor Pry amid and Pitichinaccio ; and they decided that Ca- 
 puzzi ought to keep his word. To-morrow Marianna is to go 
 to the theatre ; Pitichinaccio is to accompany her, dressed 
 like a duenna." 
 
 Antonio Scacciati became more and more surprised, and 
 he was not far from thinking that his friend had dealings w r ith 
 the devil, to have so well informed himself of all that con- 
 cerned Marianna. This is the explanation that Salvator gave 
 him of this omniscience, from which no detail escaped. In 
 the Ripetta street house lodged, next door to Capuzzi, an 
 old friend of Salvator's hostess. This woman's daughter, a 
 firm friend of Margerita's, had taken a tender interest in Ca- 
 puzzi's poor niece, and chance favored their secret interviews, 
 for Margerita's friend had discovered in her chamber an open- 
 ing for ventilation, which had for a long time been closed by 
 a thin board. This aperture opened into a dark closet, which 
 belonged to Marianna' s chamber, only separated from her 
 neighbor's lodging by a simple partition. The young girls 
 had, in this manner, long and confidential conversations, dur- 
 ing the daily siesta of old Capuzzi ; it was from Margerita's 
 friend that Salvator had procured all the necessary informa- 
 tion concerning the domestic habits of Marianna's tyrant, and 
 had learned the projected visit to Formica's theatre. 
 
 But it is necessary, before going farther, that the reader 
 become acquainted with the famous Formica and his theatre 
 at the People's gate. 
 
SALYATOE, ROSA. 255 
 
 The originator of this enterprise was a certain Nicolo Musso, 
 who caused to be represented, during the Carnival, impromptu 
 pantomimes. The location which served for the exercise of 
 his industry did not announce a very brilliant state of finances ; 
 there was only, in place of boxes and orchestra, a circular 
 gallery which bore, on the exterior, the representation of 
 count Colanna's arms, the protector of Nicolo Musso. The 
 stage was a kind of scaffolding covered with boards and orna- 
 mented with old carpets. The partitions were decorated, by 
 turns, with strips of painted paper which represented, accord- 
 ing to the necessities, a forest, an apartment, or a street. 
 For seats, the spectators had to content themselves with hard 
 and narrow benches ; so that the public in the theatre made 
 more noise than it brought in money. For the rest, nothing 
 could be seen more amusing than these joyous parodies, in 
 which Nicolo Musso was the prime mover ; it was a running fire, 
 well sustained, of epigrams against all the vices, all the defects, 
 all the singularities and all that was ridiculous in society. 
 Every actor gave to his part its broadest physiognomy. But 
 Pasquarello, official clown, bore off the applause by his caustic 
 witicisms, and the originality of his pantomime, which repro- 
 duced, so as perfectly to deceive, the voice, the form and the 
 movements of people well known in the city. The individual 
 who played this part of critic, and who was called amongst 
 the people Signor Formica, was a phenomenon. There was 
 in his talent for mimicry such an elasticity, his voice some- 
 times took such strange inflections, that one could hardly re- 
 frain from shuddering, and at the same time yield to the 
 maddest bursts of laughter. At the side of this personage 
 figured, as habitual companion, a certain doctor Graziano, 
 whose part was played by an old circus rider of Bologna, 
 named Maria Agli. 
 
 The fashionable society of Rome did not disdain the comic 
 representations of Nicolo Musso. The theatre of the People's 
 Gate w r as always well filled, and Formica's name was in every 
 one's mouth. What contributed not a little to augment the 
 
256 Hoffmann's stbangjs stories. 
 
 reputation of this place, was that Nicolo Musso never showed 
 himself anywhere out of his theatre ; a very well kept secret 
 concealed him, and no one even knew exactly where this sin- 
 gular manager could be in the habit of going. Such was 
 the theatre where the pretty Marianna wished to go. 
 
 " The best plan, then," said Salvator, " is to attack our 
 enemy openly ; and I have a scheme in my head, the execu- 
 tion of which must be accomplished during the passage from 
 Ripetta street to the theatre." 
 
 This project whispered into Antonio's ear, made him bound 
 with joy and impatience ; they were about to separate Mari- 
 anna from her persecutor, and rudely chastise that doctor 
 Pyramid, who had taken a notion to throw stones into the 
 lover's garden ! 
 
 When evening came, Salvator and Antonio each took a 
 guitar, and met under the balcony in Ripetta street, to enrage 
 old Capuzzi by giving to his pretty niece a brilliant serenade, 
 which would be heard by the whole neighborhood. Salvator 
 had a very remarkable voice, and Antonio had not made a 
 bad figure in a duet with master Odoardo Ceccarelli. From 
 the prelude of our impromptu troubadours, Signor Pasquale 
 appeared on the terrace, to impose silence on the vagabonds 
 who came to disturb his repose. Rut the neighbors, attracted 
 by the melody of the first accords that they had heard, cried 
 out to him, with much jeering, that jealousy alone excited his 
 anger, and that he might go back into his hole, to sing falsetto 
 there at his ease, and bore the ears of the unfortunate indi- 
 viduals forced to live and suffer under his key. Salvator and 
 his companion thus passed nearly the whole night in singing 
 love songs, which they interrupted from time to time, in order 
 to vary the performance, by satirical songs against ridiculous 
 old men, of whom Capuzzi was the most finished type. Ma- 
 rianna approached the window several times, and, in spite of 
 the discontented signs of her guardian, she exchanged several 
 speaking glances with her beloved Antonio. 
 
 The next day was the first day of Carnival. The rrowd 
 
SALVATOK ROSA, 257 
 
 hastened to the promenades and pressed towards the People's 
 Gate, around Xieolo Musso's theatre. The pretty Marianna 
 had forced Capuzzi to keep his promise. In consequence, 
 the old man, perfumed and trimmed up, imprisoned in his 
 Spanish doublet, his pointed hat leaning towards his ear and 
 ornamented with a new yellow feather, walked with visible 
 anxiety in his tight shoes, drawing along in his wake Mari- 
 anna, whose attractions were hidden from sight, under the 
 double veils with which the Argus had required that she 
 should envelope herself. On the other side walked doctor 
 Splendiano Accoramboni, nearly hidden by his gigantic wig. 
 Behind them, and on Marianna's heels, from whom he did 
 not take his eyes, hobbled the abortion, Pitichinaccio, dressed 
 up in a fire colored skirt, and with his head covered with 
 flowers of every shade. 
 
 Signor Formica was, that evening, in his gayest mood ; it 
 was a pleasure to hear him mingle with his comic scenes, 
 couplets which he sang, imitating the voices of the most cele- 
 brated artists. Old Capuzzi trembled with joy ; his passion 
 for the theatre came back to his memory ; and, in his exalta- 
 tions, he bruised Marianna's hands with kisses, swearing that 
 he would take her every evening to Nicolo Musso's entertain- 
 ment. His applause, his laughter, drew all eyes towards 
 him ; Signor Splendiano alone kept his professional gravity, 
 and with his eyes and by gesture, he rebuked Capuzzi's and 
 Marianna's bursts of laughter ; giving out, entirely unheeded, 
 the names of twenty diseases which a too great extension of 
 the jaws might occasion. But his patients laughed as much 
 at his morose face as at Signor Formica. As for the infinitely 
 little Pitchmaeeio, he had sadly roosted himself behind doc- 
 tor Pyramid's wig, and callecl upon the devil to take him 
 from between two women, who were much amused at his 
 grotesque appearance. A cold sweat ran from his forehead 
 ' to his livid cheeks, and sharp sounds, badly articulated, suf- 
 ficiently expressed the disagreeableness of his situation. 
 When the play was finished, Pasquale Capuzzi prudently 
 22 * 
 
258 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 allowed all the spectators to go out, and the lamps to he all 
 extinguished, except one, which served to light a lantern, 
 with which he was to conduct Mariamia and her two compan- 
 ions to Ripetta street. Pitichinaccio again began to groan 
 and complain. Capuzzi took him under his left arm to pacify 
 him, whilst with the other, he drew along his pretty niece. 
 Splendiano walked on before, armed with the lantern, which 
 gave nearly enough light to render the darkness more visible. 
 
 At some distance from the People's Gate, four figures, 
 wrapped in immense cloaks of the color of the walls, suddenly 
 stopped the progress of the company. By a blow of the 
 hand, the doctor's lantern was extinguished and thrown down ; 
 then a dim light proceeding from an unknown source, lighted 
 four skulls, whose eyeless sockets were turned towards Ca- 
 puzzi and the doctor, who were petrified with terror. 
 
 " Curses, curses, curses on thee, Splendiano Aeeoram- 
 boni ! " said the four phantoms. Then the first continued in 
 a plaintive voice : 
 
 " Knowest thou me, Splendiano ? I am Cordier, the 
 French painter, whom thou hast put into the earth, last week, 
 with thy devilish drugs ! " 
 
 The second advanced, and said : — " Knowest thou me, 
 Splendiano ? I am Kufner, the German painter, killed by 
 thy opiates ! " 
 
 The third cried out to him, in a hoarse voice : — " Knowest 
 thou me, Splendiano ? I am Liers of Flanders, whom thou hast 
 poisoned with thy pills, to gain possession of my pictures! " 
 
 Lastly, the fourth said to him : — " Knowest thou me, 
 Splendiano? I am Ghigi, the Neapolitan, whom thy powders 
 sent to purgatory ! " 
 
 And all four exclaimed in chorus: — "Curses, curses, 
 curses on thee, Splendiano Accoramboni ! the devil sends us 
 to seek thee, illustrious doctor Pyramid ! come, come." 
 
 And seizing on him with the quickness of lightning, they 
 disappeared in the darkness, howling like a storm wind. 
 
 Pasquale Capuzzi recovered a little from his fright when 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA 259 
 
 lie saw that Ins friend Splendiano aloae was hunted by the 
 demons. The hideous Pitcliinaceio, shuddering with fear, 
 had hidden his head under his master's cloak, and clung to 
 his doublet with all the tenacity of a drowning man. The 
 beautiful Marianna had fainted, — ' ; Come back to thyself, 
 my cherished one, my sweet dove," said Capuzzi to her after 
 the doctor had been carried off; " alas, the devil is carrying 
 my illustrious friend Splendiano under the Pyramid of Ces- 
 tius ! May saint Bernard, who was so great a physician of 
 souls, have pity on his, and defend it against the enemies 
 which it will find in the other world ! Alas, alas ! who now 
 will sing bass in my evening concerts ? and when shall I be 
 able myself, after such an accident, to draw from my throat 
 one single pure and clear octave ? Finally, all is for the 
 best, for God has spared us. Come back to thyself, Marian- 
 na, my chicken, all is over ! " 
 
 The young girl came gradually to herself, and begged Ca- 
 puzzi to allow her to walk by herself, whilst he shook off the 
 despairing embrace of Pitichinaccio ; but the uncle would 
 not consent to it, and pressed her arm more closely within 
 his own, to protect her against all kinds of danger to come. 
 Now, as he retook the road to his house, four horrible demons 
 appeared suddenly by his side, as if vomited from the earth ; 
 these four figures, muffled up in fire colored cloaks, threw out 
 from their mouths and eyes bluish flames, and began to dance 
 around Capuzzi, crying out : 
 
 " Phew, phew ! Pasquale Capuzzi ! old amorous devil, ac- 
 cursed fool ! We are thy companions from hell, we are the 
 devils of ugly lovers, and we are about to transport thee to 
 our furnace, with that little monster Pitcliinaceio ! " 
 
 And in the midst of these bowlings, which made the echoes 
 tremble, the four demoniacs threw themselves upon Capuzzi 
 and Pitichinaccio, and gave them such a frightful fall, that 
 the unfortunate Argus of the beautiful Marianna began to 
 bray like a beaten donkey. The young girl had disengaged 
 her aim from Canuzzi as soon as the devils had made their 
 
260 Hoffmann's stran&E stories. 
 
 appearance, but she bad no longer strength to fly, nor voice to 
 beg for mercy, and what was her surprise, when the ugliest 
 of the devils, foiling on his knee, and kissing her hand, said 
 to her, in the sweetest tone : 
 
 " My angel, my beloved Marianna, God is for us! Oh ! 
 tell me that thou lovest me, whilst my friends detain thy 
 jailer ! Come with me, I know an asylum where none can 
 reach us ! " 
 
 "Antonio ! " exclaimed Marianna, ready to fall. 
 
 But suddenly llipetta street was inundated with the light 
 of torches, and Antonio felt the sudden chill of a blade which 
 grazed his shoulder. He sprang up, turned round, and, sword 
 raised, attacked his adversary, whilst his three friends were 
 wrangling with a company of Sbires. But their bravery was 
 about yielding to the number of their assailants, if two 
 strangers had not sprung into the midst of the soldiers, utter- 
 ing menacing cries, and if one of them had not struck to the 
 earth, with a furious blow, the Sbire who was struggling with 
 Antonio This unlooked for aid ended the combat, and the 
 Sbires dispersed in the direction of the People's Gate. 
 
 Salvator Rosa, for it was he who had so energetically aided 
 his friend Antonio, proposed to follow the Sbires into the 
 city. But the young painters who had aided Antonio in his 
 nocturnal adventure, and the comedian Maria Agli, who had 
 not shown himself as lacking courage, observed that this pro- 
 ceeding would hardly be w r ise, because the sentinels at the 
 Gate, warned by the Sbires, would doubtlessly arrest them. 
 They then agreed to ask for shelter for the night at Nicolo 
 Musso's house, who received them and gave them a cordial 
 welcome. The painters laid aside their pasteboard masks 
 and their cloaks, rubbed with phosphorus : they then ex- 
 amined the wounds and bruises which they had received, and 
 washed away, as far as was in their power, all traces of the 
 fight. When our friends talked over the events of the night, 
 they discovered that the expedition had failed, on account of 
 their having forgotten a very important personage, Michael, 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. ' 261 
 
 the old bravo, who served Capuzzi as watch-dog, and who 
 
 had followed them at a distance, as ordered, from Ripetta 
 street to Formica's theatre, and during the return. Michael, 
 whose former trade rendered him less superstitious, seeing 
 the phantoms and devils appear, had run to call the guard at 
 the People's Gate ; but he did not return with the reinforce- 
 ment until after doctor Splendiano had been carried off. 
 One of the young painters had seen Michael carrying away 
 the fainting Marianna in his arms ; and Pasquale Capuzzi, 
 profiting by the confusion, had followed them with as quick a 
 step as his trembling legs, and the weight of the unfortunate 
 Pitichinaccio, who clung to his neck in despair, would allow. 
 
 On the morrow was found, near the pyramid of Cestius, 
 the doctor Splendiano, rolled up into a ball like a porcupine, 
 and snoring in the recesses of his wig like a bird in a downy 
 nest ; it was necessary to shake him to arouse him from his 
 stupor. On awaking, he raved, and a thousand arguments 
 were used to prove to him that he had not quitted this humble 
 planet, and that Home still enjoyed the favor of possessing 
 him. When they had very carefully transported him to his 
 own house, he gave thanks to ail the saints for his deliverance 
 from the devil's claws ; then throwing out of the window 
 ointments, pills, opiates, elixirs, phials and boxes of all kinds, 
 he burnt his prescriptions and books of medicine, and swore 
 that he would, for the future, only treat his patients with the 
 assistance of magnetism ; — the secret of which he had from 
 an old physician, who died in the full odor of sanctity, and 
 who, if he never cured his patients, at least, before sending 
 them on their long journey, offered them a foretaste of the 
 joys of paradise, in a marvellous ecstacy which he knew how 
 to occasion in place of a last agony. 
 
 " Salvator/' said Antonio to his friend, when they had, the 
 next day, retired to the studio at Bergognona street; " Sal- 
 vator, I have no more patience left, nor respect to show. I 
 must make my way forcibly into this rascal, Capuzzi 's house, 
 kill him if he resists me, and carry off Marian na ! " 
 
262 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 "Brilliant idea," exclaimed Saltator, laughing loudly; 
 " you would have to make use of no little skill to escape from 
 being hung after such a move ; for that would be to give the 
 whole game to the devil. Stratagem is better than force ; 
 and besides Capuzzi, I am sure, is on the defensive against an 
 attack, and justice would prepare us a dish after her own 
 fashion. Let us try stratagem then, and you may rely upon 
 me ; this is also dame Catherine's advice, whose good sense 
 I highly prize. We, the other night, played Signer Capuzzi 
 a mad-cap trick ; everybody is talking about it ; and I, who am 
 your elder, and by my calling a serious man, should be very 
 sorry to have the names of the actors in it known. I will 
 not, nevertheless, abandon you mid-way towards success. We 
 will carry off Marianna, I assert it, and time presses ; Nicolo 
 Musso and the comedian Formica shall assist me in this 
 project." 
 
 " Nicolo Musso, Formica? " said Antonio, with an aston- 
 ished look : and what can I expect from these mountebanks ? " 
 
 " Softly, my friend, I beg of you," continued Salvator; 
 " Nicolo is the prince of good fellows; and as for Formica, 
 he is, with your permission, a kind of sorcerer, who knows 
 more than one marvellous secret. Leave to me the care of 
 making good use of them. Maria Agli and dear doctor 
 Graziano of Bologna, have promised me their assistance. It 
 is at Musso 's theatre that I will give you an opportunity to 
 carry off your Marianna." 
 
 " Salvator," replied Antonio, sadly, ki you are giving me 
 a deceptive hope ; for if, according to appearances, Capuzzi is 
 on his guard against any new adventure, how can. you sup- 
 pose that he will ever go to Musso 's theatre again ? " 
 
 " That is easier than you think," replied Salvator. " The 
 most difficult part will be to get him there without companions 
 and without escort. Hold yourself in readiness to fly from 
 Rome with Marianna, as soon as you shall get possession of 
 her. You will go to Florence, where your reputation pre- 
 cedes you ; and I will take upon myself to assure you there 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA. 263 
 
 an honorable calling and powerful protection. One word 
 more, dear Antonio, Formica, the mountebank, holds your 
 happiness in his hands ! ' ' 
 
 III. 
 
 Pasquale Capuzzi d ; d not have to seek long for the authors 
 of the scurvy trick, which had so seriously disturbed him 
 near the People's Grate. Antonio and Sal vat or, whom he 
 looked upon as the instigators, enjoyed in his mind unequalled 
 hatred. Poor Marianna was ill, not, as he believed, from the 
 effects of fear, but at Antonio's want of success, which placed 
 her in much greater captivity. She hardly dared to hope 
 that her friend would again attempt her deliverance. In her 
 anger she overburdened Capuzzi w 7 ith caprices and annoyances. 
 The poor old man suffered without complaining, and trembled 
 with love when, after scenes of reproaching and repining, 
 enough to have destroyed the peace of a hundred families, 
 Marianna deigned to allow him to place his dry and w 7 rinkled 
 lips upon her delicious little hand, rendered still more delicate 
 by fever. Capuzzi then fell into an ecstacy, he fell at the 
 feet of the beautiful young girl, protesting that he would 
 devour with kisses, the pope's slipper, until he had obtained 
 from His Holiness the dispensation necessary to his union 
 with so adorable a person. Marianna quietly favored him in 
 this thought : she understood that by allowing him to hold to 
 this dear belief, she should secure the only chance of safety 
 vrhich remained to her. 
 
 Several days after the nocturnal adventure which we have 
 related, Michael came and knocked at the door of the room 
 in which Capuzzi was dining in company with Marianna, and 
 said that a stranger insisted upon speaking with the master of 
 the house. 
 
 " By all the saints," exclaimed the old man, "is it not 
 well known that I do not open my doors to any one ! " 
 
 " But, sir," added Michael, " this stranger appears to be a 
 
264 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 respectable man, he is middle aged and good looking, and 
 calls himself Nicolo Musso." 
 
 " What ! " said Capuzzi, " this must be the manager of the 
 theatre at the People's Gate ? What can he want of me?" 
 
 Curiosity was so strong, that the Argus, after having pushed 
 the bolts, went down to the door of his house. 
 
 " My venerable lord," said Nicolo, bowing humbly, " I do 
 not know how to thank you for the honor you do me in grant, 
 ing me this interview ; I have to thank you a thousand times, 
 and I hasten to express to you the sincerity of my admiration. 
 Since the day you came to my theatre, you, in whom Rome entire , 
 knows the science and exquisitely artistic taste, the reputation 
 of my pieces and the amount of my receipts have doubled. 
 I am sorry to learn that bold bandits have assailed you on 
 your return from your previous visit ; but I supplicate you, 
 Signor, not to make me suffer for this deplorable accident, 
 by depriving my theatre of the presence of the most distin- 
 guished man that Rome has the honor of possessing." 
 
 At these words, the old man Capuzzi could not restrain his 
 
 j°y : 
 
 " Your theatre," exclaimed he; " yes, certainly I like it, 
 and I render justice to the talent of your actors. But know 
 you, master Nicolo, that I ran the risk of my life, with my 
 illustrious friend, doctor Splendiano ? Yes, certainly, your 
 theatre amuses me infinitely, but accursed be a thousand 
 times, the road that leads to it. Why don't you change your 
 place ? If you would go and establish yourself on the Peo- 
 ple's Square, in Babuina street or in Ripetta street, I would 
 gladly become a frequenter ; but all the devils in hell would 
 not succeed in making me go again, during the night, into 
 the vicinity of the People's Gate ! " 
 
 "Alas, you will then ruin me, Signor Capuzzi ! " replied 
 Nicolo, in the tone of a discouraged man ; " for it is upon you, 
 my worthy protector, that reposed my whole prospect of suc- 
 cess, and I came to solicit " 
 
 u Solicit ? What can I do for you ? " 
 
SALVAT0R ROSA. 265 
 
 11 You can make ine the happiest man in all Italy. You 
 know how much the public are pleased with little plays inter- 
 spersed with songs ; well, I thought of going to the expense 
 of engaging an orchestra, and thus create, in spite of the 
 rigorous limits of my privilege, a kind of opera. Now, you 
 are in truth, Signor Capuzzi, the first composer in Italy ; and 
 the fashionable world of Kome must have lost their wits, or 
 your rivals are very powerful, in order that any other pieces 
 than yours should be played in our theatres. And I, Signor, 
 dared to take the liberty to beg of you to grant me the right 
 to have them represented, with all the care in my power, on 
 my humble stage." 
 
 Master Pasquale, puffed with pride on listening to the fine 
 speech of Nicolo, made a thousand excuses for having so long 
 conversed with him at the door, and begged him to enter his 
 house, where they could continue at their ease, so agreeable 
 an interview. When they were carefully shut up in a distant 
 closet, the old man took from a mouldy old chest an enormous 
 packet of music strangely scrawled, and, taking down a 
 cracked guitar, began to stun poor Nicolo with his frightful 
 bellowings. 
 
 The unfortunate manager devoted himself bravely; he 
 stamped, clapped his hands, and raved like a person under- 
 going exorcism, crying out as loud as he could shout : 
 
 " Bravo, bravissimo ! Benedettissimo Capuzzi ! " 
 
 He carried the demonstrations of his magnificent enthusiasm 
 so far, that, rolling himself on the floor, like a worm, he 
 began to pinch and bite the legs of the unfortunate Capuzzi, 
 who bounded with pain and howled out : 
 
 " By all the saints in heaven, leave me, master Nicolo, 
 you hurt me horribly ! " 
 
 " No, Signor Pasquale," cried Nicolo, " I will not let you 
 go until you give me that divine air which enchants me, and 
 which I wish to have Formica, my best actor, learn for to- 
 morrow's representation ! " 
 " I have then found a man capable of appreciating me," 
 
26G Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 said Pasquale, trying to save his legs from the torture that 
 Nicolo was inflicting upon him. " But, for God's sake, leave 
 me, master Nicolo, and carry away with you all of my master- 
 pieces." 
 
 a No!" still cried the crazy manager, " I will not leave 
 you until you have promised and sworn to honor my theatre 
 to-morrow, by your presence ! Fear nothing for your safety ; 
 I am sure that the whole audience, after having heard your 
 admirable mtlsic, will lead you back in triumph to your house ; 
 I myself, with my faithful comrades, — I will escort you with 
 torches, and the malignant devils who dare to make us draw 
 our rapiers had better beware ! " 
 
 * ' Truly, truly will you do this?" murmured the happy 
 Capuzzi, ready to burst with pride ; " and I shall hear Formica 
 who has such a fine voice, sing my best pieces ? Well, master 
 Nicolo, I promise you to go to your theatre to-morrow." 
 
 Nicolo arose lightly, like a victorious wrestler, and clasped 
 Capuzzi's carcase in his arms so vigorously, that he nearly 
 suffocated him. 
 
 At this moment Marianna appeared. The jealous old man 
 threw a quick glance towards her to make her retire, but the 
 young girl had recognized the manager of the theatre at the 
 People's Gate. 
 
 " It is in vain, sir," said she to him in an angry tone, " it is 
 in vain that you try to attract my excellent uncle to your bar- 
 rack ; I will not suffer him to expose himself again to a noc- 
 turnal attack like that which was near costing our learned 
 friend Splendiano his life, and which nearly rendered this 
 dear uncle a victim to his devotedness in saving my life and 
 my honor. Do not hope for my consent, master Nicolo ; and 
 you, dear uncle, do not give me the pain of knowing you threat- 
 ened again by some diabolical ambush." 
 
 Capuzzi fixed upon his niece his great red eyes, with a 
 look of surprise ; but it was in vain that he detailed all the 
 precautions that the obliging Nicolo offered to take for his 
 safety ; Marianna remained inflexible. 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 
 
 267 
 
 " I will not," said she, " allow myself to be contradicted ; 
 I am still sick with fright ; and at no price will I allow you 
 to go and hear the finest singing of Formica. It may be that 
 this master Nicolo is in league with that bandit Antonio 
 Scacciati ; and I strongly suspect " 
 
 " Good God ! what an idea ! " continued Nicolo, with a 
 vivacity which admitted of no reply ; " could you suppose, 
 Signora, that I was capable of being in so cowardly a plot ? 
 But if my word is not sufficient to tranquillize you, why not 
 have Michael and a good company of police accompany you, 
 to watch around the theatre V " 
 
 " This proposition reconciles me to you," said Marianna; 
 " excuse me for having doubted your loyal intentions ; but 
 an affectionate niece is allowed to tremble for the safety of so 
 dear a relation ; and notwithstanding the possibility of procur- 
 ing an escort, I beg of him to remain prudently at home. ,, 
 
 Pasquale had listened to this conversation with an expres- 
 sion on his face which sufficiently testified the hesitation of 
 his thoughts. When Marianna had finished speaking, he 
 embraced her with truly picturesque affection, and exclaimed, 
 with tears in his eyes : 
 
 " Divine, adorable creature ! this care that thou takest in 
 all that concerns me is the sweetest confession for my heart 
 of the secret sentiments which modesty hides in thy breast ! 
 Banish all fear, dear angel, and do not deny thyself the joy 
 of hearing the applause which will crown thy beloved uncle's 
 master-pieces, the glorious name of which will fly to-morrow 
 from mouth J;o mouth, until they shall reach the ears of re- 
 motest posterity ! " 
 
 Thanks to the entreaties of Nicolo, Marianna ended by 
 yielding, promising to go herself to the brilliant representa- 
 tion of Formica. The soul of Pasquale Capuzzi already swam 
 in heavenly delight ; but he wanted, to complete his happi- 
 ness, other witnesses than Marianna ; he wished to take with 
 him willingly or unwillingly doctor Pyramid and Pitichinaccio, 
 but the success of this feat was slightly doubtful. 
 
^68 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Splendiano had dreamed strange dreams, during his lethar- 
 gy at the foot of the pyramid of Cestius. The bodies of all 
 his patients had arisen from their graves to torment him, and, 
 since that fatal night, he had been oppressed with a super- 
 stitious sadness which nothing could dissipate. As for Piti- 
 chinaccio, this unfortunate abortion had become well con- 
 vinced that real devils had assailed his master, and the re- 
 membrance alone of this event made him utter frightened 
 cries. Capuzzi had vainly endeavored to prove to him that 
 the devils were no other than accursed Christians, such as 
 Salvator, Antonio and their friends. Pitichinaccio was moved 
 to tears at finding himself thus contradicted ; he swore by 
 the great Eternal that the devil Fanfarell had struck him with 
 his horns, that he had recognized him ; and, to prove what he 
 said, he showed his back, tattooed with livid spots. 
 
 Splendiano, who prided himself upon his reasoning, and 
 being of a strong mind, first came to the decision to revisit 
 the theatre, after having piously provided himself with a relic, 
 which had been given him by a Bernardian monk. Pitichin- 
 accio allowed himself to be seduced, less by the example of 
 the doctor than by a promise of a box of preserved grapes ; 
 but it was farther agreed that Capuzzi should allow him to 
 free himself for that evening of his duenna's petticoats, and 
 put on his new coat, made from the best portion of his mas- 
 ter's old doublets. 
 
 The success of the project which Salvator had formed, 
 wholly depended on the possibility of separating Capuzzi and 
 Marianna at the theatre. The two friends exhausted them- 
 selves in seeking the means of avoiding the presence of Splen- 
 diano and Pitichinaccio. Chance, which often remains deaf 
 to our most anxious desires, seemed on this occasion to favor 
 Salvator and Antonio, for the man made use of by Providence 
 was precisely the one from whom they had most to fear, 
 Michael, the bravo. 
 
 The following night, a frightful noise aroused the inhabi- 
 tants of Ripetta street. A squad of police who were seeking 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 269 
 
 an escaped convict, arrived at the scene of action with torches. 
 They found the unfortunate Pitichinaccio, lying on the ground 
 amongst broken violins, without signs of life, whilst Michael 
 was showering blows on the shoulders of doctor Pyramid. 
 
 In the midst of this nocturnal disturbance, Pasquale Ca- 
 puzzi, drawing his long rapier, was about, with a furious 
 thrust, to pierce through and through the redoubtable Michael, 
 if some of the police had not thrown themselves between 
 them. The light of the torches then showed the mistake : old 
 Capuzzi stood still on the spot, in stupid astonishment, his 
 eyes staring, his forehead purple, and his moustache in dis- 
 order. Splendiano and the abortion Pitichinaccio had been 
 so badly treated, that they were taken up much bruised, and 
 carried to their homes, scarcely alive. 
 
 Here is what caused this adventure. I have elsewhere 
 related that Salvator and Antonio had given Marianna a bril- 
 liant serenade under her balcony in Ripetta street. The 
 success which they had, and the welcome of the neighborhood, 
 had inspired them with the idea of giving this gallant concert 
 every night. Master Capuzzi, in despair at their audacity, 
 which did not leave him a moment's repose, went and com- 
 plained to the city authorities, and begged them to forbid the 
 two artists disturbing his tranquillity. The magistrates, after 
 having carefully weighed the matter, decided that it was im- 
 possible to prevent the inhabitants from practising so agreea- 
 ble an art as music, and besides, a like prohibition, before 
 unheard of, would anger the populace in the highest degree. 
 Capuzzi, furious at the little support afforded him by the 
 authorities, could imagine nothing better than to take the 
 responsibility of vengeance into his own hands. He took 
 into his confidence the ex-bravo, Michael, a man ready for 
 anything, as I have before said, and proposed to him to aid in 
 his revenge, in consideration of a pretty round sum which he 
 promised to give him. 
 
 The assassin, well satisfied with such a prospect, provided 
 
 himself with an oak staff, sufficiently solid, to expedite, in 
 23* 
 
"270 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 case of need, several individuals. This man, seduced by the 
 glitter of the sequins, began to keep a vigilant nocturnal 
 watch. But his expectation was without result ; for, from 
 the commencement, nobody came within reach of his blows. 
 Salvator and Antonio, busied with their approaching expe- 
 dition to the theatre at the People's Gate, had, from that 
 very day, discontinued the serenades under Capuzzi's balcony. 
 Marianna, who suspected nothing, complained of this depriva- 
 tion ; she graciously avowed to her uncle that she felt nothing 
 but antipathy towards Salvator and Antonio, she did not 
 think herself, on that account, compelled to give up her taste 
 for music, and that she greatly regretted the loss of the sym- 
 phonies which the two artists executed so well. The unfortu- 
 nate Capuzzi, believing that his conquest was assured if he 
 succeeded in restoring to his ward the evening concerts which 
 she was pleased to like, ran to seek his two advisers, in order 
 to organize, with their assistance, a serenade of his own com- 
 position, for the following night. 
 
 This night, which was to advance his affairs so much, was 
 the evening before the day that he was to offer a fresh proof 
 of devotion to her least desires, by conducting her to Nicolo 
 Musso's theatre. All seemed to be going on well ; unfortu- 
 nately, too much distracted by his happiness, Capuzzi had 
 forgotten the frightful orders which he had so vigorously given 
 to master Michael ; so that, as soon as he had gone cautiously 
 from his house, had taken his place, with Splendiano and the 
 dwarf, under the shadow of the opposite house, and as soon 
 as a first and fatal prelude had awoke the silence of the night, 
 the bravo, who was prowling about, cursing fortune which 
 seemed to refuse him his victims, fell like a thunder clap 
 upon our amateurs, who were far from thinking about him, 
 and eame near killing them, as I have just related. 
 
 This famous mistake delivered the artists from two obstacles. 
 Doctor Accoramboni dreamed in his bed of the pyramid of 
 Cestius, and Pitichinaecio thought that his last hour had come. 
 Capuzzi tried to oppose bad fortune with a good heart alone ; 
 
SALVATOK T.OSA. 271 
 
 it was excessively repugnant to his vanity to have it believed 
 that he had received his share of the blows so liberally dis- 
 tributed by Michael ; besides, his finest opera was to be rep- 
 resented atNicolo's theatre, — and nothing more was necessary 
 to have recalled him from the other world. 
 
 Whilst he was preparing for this ovation, Salvator and An- 
 tonio were taking measures to lead to the successful abduction 
 of Marianna. 
 
 " You will succeed, I am sure of it, and I will answer for 
 it with my head," said Salvator to his friend; "receive, then, 
 my best wishes for your happiness, in spite of the vain instinct 
 of fear which seizes me at the thought of this marriage." 
 
 " What do you say," exclaimed Antonio, "what do you 
 say, dear master ? " 
 
 ' ; I ought not to trouble you by my ideas concerning this 
 marriage ; and yet are you not free to treat these ideas as chi- 
 merical or foolish dreamings ? I love woman, dear An- 
 tonio ; but indeed, I tell you, that the most seductive, she 
 for whom I should feel the most exalted passion, could not 
 chase from my fearing mind those doubts, those apprehensions 
 in which the conjugal ties are enveloped to my eyes. There is, 
 do you see, in the nature of all women, I know not what 
 mysterious machinery, which the science of the most skilful 
 men cannot penetrate the secret of. She, by whose charms 
 we have allowed ourselves to be caught, she who appears to 
 have given herself to us with the truest, the most devoted 
 passion, is often the first to betray her sworn faith and rend, 
 without scruple, the compact of a union which ought to be 
 eternal. It is my sad experience which makes me dread for 
 you, my friend, some future sorrow which there w r ould, per- 
 haps, be time to avoid." 
 
 " But I dare not," replied Antonio, " I will no longer 
 listen to you. Who then would dare to suspect my beautiful, 
 my pure Marianna ? " 
 
 " No one, assuredly," continued Salvator; " your Marianna 
 is an angel of beauty and virtue ; but it is precisely the ineffa- 
 
272 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 ble charm of her whole person which makes me tremble for 
 your future peace. Still again, clear friend, distrust the 
 capricious nature of women ; and, since you force me to ex- 
 plain, have you not until now reflected on the conduct of 
 Marianna herself? Have you forgot the duplicity of this 
 pretty child, whose simplicity you admire ? Remember the 
 night that we carried old Capuzzi home ; the tender ward, did 
 she not play her part towards him like a finished actress V 
 And still later, are you ignorant of the art that she knew how 
 to assume, at the time of Nicolo Musso's visit ? Say and 
 maintain what you please, and you will not be the less con- 
 vinced of the cunning of this little Marianna, to cajole her 
 uncle and put at rest his suspicions ; it exceeds all trickery 
 imaginable at so tender an age. She has in reality overcome 
 all the obstacles which might retard the success of our projects. 
 I do not pretend to say that towards this old fool Capuzzi all 
 tricks are not legitimate. All is fair in war, says the proverb; 
 but it is not the less possible that " 
 
 " Hold, Antonio, let us stop here, I pray you; I don't 
 know, perhaps, what I am saying ; do not be offended with 
 me, for I wish nothing but your most perfect felicity with the 
 young girl that you love. Let us think of nothing but the 
 success of the plan which we have formed." 
 
 The evening that saw Pasquale Capuzzi take the road, for 
 a second time, with Marianna, towards Formica's theatre, 
 seemed to light up by the rays of the setting sun, the march 
 of an unfortunate, whom an irresistible law drew towards a 
 torture. Before them gravely walked, with an extremely 
 repulsive look, the terrible Michael, armed at alt points, like 
 a paladin of ancient times. Behind the trembling couple 
 was scattered a score of police, each one under the strictest 
 orders. 
 
 Master Nicolo Musso awaited the illustrious composer at 
 the door of his theatre. The house was filled with spectators, 
 and he hastened to conduct Capuzzi and his charming niece 
 to the places of honor which had been provided for them. — 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 273 
 
 Signor Pasquale was much pleased by the particular attention 
 of which he was the object ; his red eyes glanced from side 
 to side with radiant pride ; and his satisfaction was boundless, 
 when, after a minute inspection of every part of the room, he 
 saw that all the seats near that of Marianna were occupied by 
 women. An orchestra composed of five or six violins and a 
 base, was hidden behind the ragged tapestry which formed 
 the decoration of the stage. Master Capuzzi trembled with 
 hope, whilst listening to hear the unknown artists torment their 
 instruments into an accord ; when, after waiting an hour, a 
 formidable flourish of the bow announced that the perform- 
 ances were about to commence, the whole of his aged frame 
 was seized with a galvanic trembling. 
 
 Signor Formica first appeared on the stage, dressed like 
 Pasquale. As soon as he opened his mouth, Capuzzi rubbed 
 his eyes to assure himself that he was not dreaming. The 
 actor copied with sorrowful exactitude the features and the 
 figure, without excepting one single ridiculous point, of the 
 inhabitant of Ripetta street, so well known in the city, that 
 an unavoidable homeric laugh resounded through the house. 
 They rolled upon the seats in a delirium ; uttering deafening 
 shouts. Unfortunately, the object of this boisterous hilarity, 
 far from prudently escaping, took this parade for a delicate 
 attention from his friend Nicolo. He found his representa- 
 tive enchanting, adorable ; he listened to Formica's singing 
 with transports of pleasure difficult to describe. 
 
 Silence and calm were restored when the false Pasquale 
 had finished his opening air ; and doctor Graziano was 
 seen to come from behind the screens, whose part, for this 
 once, Nicolo himself had assumed. This personage approached, 
 stopping his ears and making a despairing grimace. 
 
 " Rogue," cried he to Capuzzi's valet, "will you ever 
 stop your bellowing ? " 
 
 " Softly, my master,' ' replied Pasquarello, " I see that 
 you are no better than the rest of the inhabitants of my 
 quarter, hard heads, who understand nothing in melody, and 
 
274 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 who wither by their illiterate criticisms the most distinguished 
 talent in Italy ! The air that I have just sung is from the 
 most celebrated composer of our age, whom I have the honor 
 to serve, in the capacity of valet, and who pays me generously 
 in lessons of solfeggio and singing ! " 
 
 At these words, Graziano began to enumerate, by their 
 names, all the known artists ; but, at each celebrated name 
 Pasquarello shook his head disdainfully. 
 
 " Foolish animal ! " said he, drawing himself up ; " is it 
 necessary to submit to the judgment of such appreciators ? " 
 
 " What, do you not even know what all the world pro- 
 claims, that the most admirable musician of our time is no 
 other than Signor Pasquale Capuzzi di Senegaglia, who has 
 deigned to do me the honor to accept me for his humble 
 valet ?" 
 
 Graziano burst out laughing at the extravagance of his 
 questioner. 
 
 " Ingrate, do-nothing ! " exclaimed he, " dost thou not 
 blush at having quitted my service, which gave you bread, 
 honest wages and blows, to go and scout with the most notori- 
 ous miser in all Rome, with a kind of maccaroni bag, with a 
 double ass, who .tries to look like a virtuoso, and only knows 
 how to bray day and night, to the great discomfort of all 
 Ripetta street ! " 
 
 " Miserable envier," replied Pasquarello ; and, turning 
 his back on his abusive adversary, he branched off into an 
 interminable panegyric on Capuzzi, in which he took care not 
 to forget the description of his physical advantages, seasoned 
 with such burlesque features, that the hilarity of the specta- 
 tors rose to its utmost height. But Capuzzi alone compre- 
 hended nothing of this parody. He was ready to die for joy, 
 and felt himself avenged for what he called, in his own breast, 
 the injustice of his cotemporaries. 
 
 At this moment, the scene at the end of the stage opened 
 to give entrance to a caricature of Capuzzi in person, copied, 
 mask and dress, with the most minute fidelity. It was his 
 
3ALVAT0R ROSA. Z(D 
 
 bearing, his look and his gait : the whole appeared so real, 
 that the true Capuzzi, frozen by fear at this unexpected ap- 
 parition, allowed Marianna's hand to escape from his grasp, 
 which he had until then kept upon it, and began to feel of 
 himself from head to foot, to see if he was still in the land of 
 the living, and if the personage who was advancing on the 
 stage was a spectre or his ghost. 
 
 The false Capuzzi began by kissing Graziano tenderly upon 
 both cheeks, then he asked him how he was. The doctor 
 smiled, and, taking the attitude of a conqueror, answered 
 that his health was perfect, but that his purse was extremely 
 sick ; that he had, the night before, purchased for the queen 
 of his thoughts, a magnificent pair of flame-colored stockings, 
 the price of which had ruined him ; and that if he did not 
 find, that very day, some Jew who would lend him thirty ducats, 
 his reputation as a man of gallantry would be gone forever, 
 and he should lose his lady. 
 
 " Thirty ducats, my dear friend !" exclaimed the unknown, 
 who so well represented the lean figure of Capuzzi, " thirty 
 ducats ! is that all ? and must you really be troubled about 
 such a trifle as that ! Here, my estimable friend, here are 
 fifty, that I beg you will accept out of love for me." 
 
 " Pasquale, Pasquale ! what art thou doing? thou wilt 
 ruin thyself," murmured in a low voice the veritable Capuzzi, 
 moving uneasily upon his seat. 
 
 Master Graziano, the fashionable doctor, drew a parchment 
 from his pocket to write a receipt upon ; but the Capuzzi 
 resisted and would not listen to his talk about receipts and 
 interest for a loan which was not worth, as he said, the trou- 
 ble of thinking about for two minutes. 
 
 " Pasquale, my friend, thou art losing thy wits," continued 
 Capuzzi, half aloud. Notwithstanding, doctor Graziano se- 
 cured the loan, and loaded with caresses, with which he ap- 
 peared to wish to suffocate the false Capuzzi. Then the 
 clown, approaching him in a very humble manner, and ex- 
 hausting himself in the most extravagant salutations, held 
 
276 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 out his hand timidly, as if to solicit the wages already due 
 him. The false Capuzzi in a vein of good humor, threw him 
 a few ducats and a multitude of fine promises for the future. 
 
 u Pasquale, Pasquale ! thou art yielding thyself to the 
 devil Prodigality ! " cried out the veritable Capuzzi, so loudly, 
 that the whole audience called out for him to be quiet, with a 
 threat to throw him out should he again disturb the play. 
 
 The clown gravely continued his eulogium on the fine 
 qualities of his master, and judged that the time was appro- 
 priate to announce to the public a new air from this great 
 master. The false Capuzzi, clapping his companion on the 
 shoulder, said to him, with a look ridiculously cunning, enough 
 to make Egyptian mummies die laughing, that the office of 
 singing Signor Pasquale Capuzzi di Senegaglia's music was 
 just suited to a valet, seeing that the pretended virtuoso Ca- 
 puzzi found it infinitely convenient to dress himself up in the 
 peacock's feathers ; and copied all through, from the works of 
 Frescobaldi and Carissimi, pieces which he afterwards appro- 
 priated with unheard of effrontery. 
 
 The attack was rude ; its effect was irresistible. " Thou 
 liest, by all the saints thou liest t M howled the veritable Ca- 
 puzzi, bounding with fury upon his seat, where all the neigh- 
 bors exerted their strength to restrain him and prevent him 
 from springing upon the stage. 
 
 "Let us talk about something else," continued, without 
 being disconcerted, the false Capuzzi. " I will offer to 
 my numerous friends and admirers a royal festival, and I 
 order thee, Pasquarello, to expend thy imagination, thy arms, 
 and thy legs, so that nothing shall be wanting on this solemn 
 occasion." 
 
 Then, taking a list of the most exquisite dishes from his 
 pocket, he called them out one after the other ; and, when 
 the faithful valet announced the price, he gave him the money 
 without discussion. When the bill of fare for the feast was 
 settled upon, Pasquarello begged his master to tell him for 
 what occasion he ordered so splendid an entertainment. 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 277 
 
 " It is because to-morrow is the most fortunate day of my 
 life, To-morrow, Pasquarello, I will give my beautiful Mari- 
 auna in marriage to the most celebrated painter in Rome, 
 after the great Salvator ; to the good and worthy Antonio 
 Scacciati, whom she loves with her whole heart.' ' 
 
 The false Capuzzi had hardly finished pronouncing these 
 words, when the real Capuzzi, struggling like a madman in 
 the hands of the people, who tried to keep him in his seat, 
 made the house resound with such furious clamors, that four 
 or five women fainted with fear. He rose to his fullest height 
 before the actor who thus abused him. 
 
 " Vile impostor," cried he to him, " thou liest like an 
 accursed rogue ! Antonio Scacciati is a beggar, who shall 
 never have my sweet Marianna ! And thou canst tell him 
 from me, that if he ever shows himself at my door, I will 
 have him skinned alive and thrown to the dogs ! " 
 
 " What does this mean, old madman ! old devil's boarder? " 
 interrupted the false Capuzzi from the stage. " Is it allowa- 
 ble for a citizen thus to disturb the joy of peaceable people 
 who have paid at the door of the theatre, to hear the praises 
 of the venerable Pasquale Capuzzi di Senegaglia ? Is there 
 not here some brave policeman who will free us from thy 
 stupid presence, old counterfeiter, who art trying to pass thy- 
 self off for the most illustrious man in Ripetta street ? Dare 
 to oppose the happiness of these dear children that heaven 
 appears to have created for each other " 
 
 At the same time Marianna and Antonio were seen ad- 
 vancing on the stage, their hands joined, a smile on their 
 faces, and their eyes animated with the sweetest contentment 
 that fortunate love can bestow. At the sight of this, Capuzzi 
 felt his strength redoubled by rage ; with a more vigorous 
 bound than would have been expected from a man of his size, 
 he found himself standing before them on the stage, and 
 drawing his rapier, he was about to stab the person of Antonio 
 Scacciati, when a nervous hand, seizing his arm, prevented 
 him from committing a useless murder. An officer of the 
 24 
 
278 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 pope's guard arrested Mm, and, proceeding into an examina- 
 tion of the affair, said to him roughly : 
 
 11 You will never in your life forget the unforttmatc part 
 you have played to-night in Nicolo Musso's theatre." 
 
 The surprise of the old man was extreme when the two 
 actors, whom he had taken for Antonio and Marianna, taking 
 off their masks, exhibited faces entirely unknown to him. — 
 The sword fell from his hand, a cold perspiration moistened 
 his wrinkled cheeks, and he earned his hands to his forehead, 
 as if to pluck from his brain the last impression of a fright- 
 ful nightmare. A painful instinct made him tremble in every 
 limb, when, on recovering from this hallucination, he sought 
 for his niece at his side and found her no longer there. His 
 despair at this would have awakened pity in the most insensi- 
 ble heart. 
 
 Whilst this comedy, sadly burlesque, ended the per- 
 formances by a scene which eame &ear being bloody, another 
 drama was approaching its denouement in a corner of the 
 room. 
 
 The veritable Antonio, profiting by the confusion which he 
 had so successfully caused between Capuzzi and the actors, 
 very adroitly made his way behind the spectators to Marianna, 
 and told her in a few words, to tranquillize her, the trick which 
 had been played, by the assistance of Salvator, to trinrnph 
 over the obstinacy of her jealous guardian. Time pressed, 
 and the entreaties of Antonio threw the poor girl into a cruel 
 perplexity. The thought of flying with her beloved, without 
 being united to him by the sacred ties of marriage, frightened 
 her. And then, although she had so little reason to be pleased 
 with the proceedings of Capuzzi, she nevertheless respected 
 in him the man to whom her dying father had confided her. 
 It seemed to her that she could not, without odious ingrati- 
 tude, which would wither her reputation forever, thus abandon 
 the old man, who had, after all, no other fault to reproach 
 himself with towards her than a ridiculous love, and a jealousy 
 which she had sufficiently trifled with. Antonio had the 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. ' 279 
 
 greatest difficulty in overcoming her hesitation ; every minute 
 lost might forever separate them. Marianna understood this 
 as well as he did himself. She wept in silence ; a convulsive 
 trembling agitated her limbs ; a cloud passed over her eyes ; 
 the artist felt her falling ; immediately profiting by the tumult 
 and confusion which filled the place, he carried the young 
 girl off in his arms, covering her with tears and kisses. A 
 carriage which was waiting a short distance from Nicolo's 
 theatre, received the lovers, and carried them off with light- 
 ning speed, on the road to Florence. 
 
 No words can express the exasperation of poor Capuzzi. 
 He tried to hasten in pursuit of the odious ravisher of his 
 niece. But the officer of the guard who had possession of 
 his person, surrounded him with soldiers, and said to him 
 coldly : 
 
 " Justice will inform herself concerning the carrying off 
 and seduction of which you complain. As for you, I cannot, 
 by my private authority, set you at liberty : you must imme- 
 diately answer to the magistrate for your attempt at murder 
 oa the person of the young actor whom you were about so 
 expeditiously to forward, had it not been for my interference. 
 Let us walk, if you please, and do not force me to pull you 
 by the ears." 
 
 IV. 
 
 All things here below, alas ! are nothing but uncertainty 
 and perpetual change ; but nothing is more variable than 
 man's heart. Such a one sees himself to-day the object of 
 general sympathy and veneration, and to-morrow may fail into 
 the abyss of adversity and contempt, without any one of his 
 flatterers deigning to extend a hand to aid him. 
 
 As long as Capuzzi had only been ridiculous, there was not 
 in the whole of Rome a single person, of whatever age or 
 rank, who did not take a malicious pleasure in laughing at hig 
 avarice, and the ridiculousness of his eccentric life. But as 
 
280 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 soon as misfortune had struck him, as soon as the news of the 
 elopement of Marianna was spread far and near, nothing else 
 was thought of but sincere pity for the poor old man. When 
 he was seen mournful and pensive, going about, bowed down 
 by grief, through the most solitary streets in the city, every 
 one felt compassion for so legitimate a grief, and heartily 
 cursed the author of a ravishment which raised indignation in 
 every family. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was the saying truer, that misfortunes 
 seldom come single. Capuzzi had to deplore, some days after 
 this fatal event, the loss of his two most intimate acquaintances ; 
 the abortion, Pitchinaccio, was the victim of an indigestion, 
 and doctor Splendiano Accoramboni died of a mistake in spell- 
 ing. Whilst he was so grievously sick, in consequence of the 
 beating he had received from Michael the bravo, he tried to 
 write for himself, through the bed curtains, a prescription for 
 medicine ; but his hand trembled so much, that an exagger- 
 ated stroke of the pen, lengthening beyond measure the tail 
 of an important letter, raised to a fatal degree a dose of sub- 
 limate which helped to make up the remedy. Hardly had 
 the doctor swallowed it, when he uttered piercing cries and 
 writhed in horrible convulsions. He was buried under the 
 pyramid of Cestius, in the midst of the numerous patients 
 who, by his care, had long since preceded him. 
 
 It is curious to remark that the severest blame which was 
 attached to the carrying off of Marianna did not fall entirely 
 upon Antonio Scacciati. Everybody knew the active part 
 that Salvator had taken in the success of this unfortunate 
 accident. This accusation rendered him, in the eyes of fami- 
 lies, a very dangerous associate, and cut off his access to the 
 best houses in the city. His enemies, and his talents rendered 
 them numerous, did not allow this opportunity of decrying 
 him to escape. They went so far as to impute to him the most 
 odious acts ; they pretended that he had escaped from Naples 
 to avoid the just chastisement of the most revolting excesses, 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 281 
 
 and that, if the authorities did not take care, he would become 
 the accomplice of the most evil disposed people. 
 
 All these accumulated reports, all these criminations still 
 more perfidious, since they were only founded upon vain 
 hypothesis, were spread with sufficient rapidity to gravely 
 prejudice the interests and reputation of the great artist. 
 Salvator who, since the departure of Antonio had shut him- 
 self up in his studio, produced several paintings of rare 
 merit, and which ought to have stamped his- genius with a 
 seal of glory. But thanks to the calumnies which enviers 
 spread abroad unceasingly, it came into fashion to decry his 
 works, as they decried his reputation ; and in public exhibi- 
 tions of paintings, pretended rivals to Salvator, people of the 
 academy of San-Luca, and simple amateurs, no longer exam- 
 ined his paintings without shrugging their shoulders or shak- 
 ing their heads with a most disdainful look. To listen to 
 these gentlemen, sometimes the skies were too blue, or some- 
 times the trees were too green, or the figures were in a bad 
 position, and then perspective was wanting. Every one had 
 his say, and no one was sparing of his criticism. 
 
 The vain members of the college of San-Luca were not 
 the least anxious for the ruin of Salvator ; they could not par- 
 don him for the triumph of having discovered the Magdalen 
 of Antonio ScaceiatL And painting was soon no longer 
 an object for the hate of these miserable detractors. Salvator 
 wrote sonnets admirably poetical ; and they did not scruple 
 to call him a plagiary, and cowardly to appropriate the orig- 
 inality of his works. No one thought of remedying these 
 wrongs, so strong was the deplorable prejudice which at^ 
 tached itself to the name of Salvator, since the adventures in 
 Bipetta street. Thus his position, far from regaining its 
 former brilliancy, became every day more precarious. Con- 
 fined in the modest home which the devoted friendship of 
 dame Catherine preserved to him, under the weight of this 
 anathema, the artist felt that he was failing ; and it was under 
 this discouragement that he finished two pictures of large $^ 
 24* 
 
282 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 mensions, which were talked of throughout Rome. One of 
 these pictures represented the emblem of Human Frailty ; the 
 principal figure, type of inconstancy and luxury, was mani- 
 festly a portrait of the mistress of one of the princes of the 
 Church. 
 
 The other picture was a representation of Fortune, scattering 
 her gifts as chance directed ; her hand rained down in pro- 
 fusion cardinal's caps, bishop's mitres, purses filled with gold, 
 and insignia of public honors ; all these distinctions fell upon 
 donkeys, upon stupid sheep ; whilst by the side of these 
 animals, men whose eyes shone with the fire of genius, vainly 
 awaited the least part of these favors. The work of Salvator 
 expressed a bitter irony, and each one of these animals bore 
 a striking resemblance in feature to the physiognomy of some 
 of his enemies. I leave you to think by what rage the acad- 
 emicians of San-Luca were animated at the sight of this. — 
 Not content with every where decrying his talent, they laid 
 plots against his life. Salvator would have been glad to leave 
 Rome, had it not been for the deep affection which he cher- 
 ished for the good Catherine and her two daughters. 
 
 Forced to yield to a dire necessity, he set out for Florence, 
 where the welcome of the Grand-Duke rendered justice to the 
 brilliancy of his genius. His pictures here met with such 
 rapid favor, that he soon found himself able to reestablish his 
 affairs on the former footing of splendor which he had enjoyed. 
 His house became the resort of the most celebrated persons 
 of the time ; there were seen together there Evangelista Con- 
 cetti, Valerio Chimentelli, Battista Ricciardi, Andrea Caval- 
 canti, Pietro Salvati, Phillippo Apoloni, Vulumnio BandelK 
 and Francesco Rovai, all poets and artists whose reputation 
 was crowned by the friendship of Salvator. 
 
 At a short distance from his friend's palace, master Antonia 
 Scacciati was making his fortune under the auspices of love. 
 They both loved to pass together, with the pretty Marianna, 
 long hours in recalling the adventures of Nicolo's theatre. — 
 Marianna alorie did not always share their joy ; her loving 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 283 
 
 heart was pained at the idea that Capuzzi, the brother of her 
 father, abandoned by her, urged by grief towards the tomb, 
 would curse her in his last moments. Antonio could not see 
 the tears of his beloved without seeking anxiously some means 
 of reconciliation with his strange relation. Salvator for a 
 long time consoled them with the hope, that some fortunate 
 circumstance would soon reunite them, when one morning 
 Antonio rushed into the studio like a madman, crying out : — 
 
 " My friend, my guardian angel, what shall I do if you 
 abandon me ! Capuzzi has just arrived at Florence with an 
 order for my arrest, as the ravisher of his niece ! " 
 
 " But it is too late," said Salvator ; ; ' the Church, has it 
 not blessed your marriage ? " 
 
 " The Church itself cannot save me. The old devil has 
 made his way to the pope ; and he natters himself with being 
 able to annul my marriage, and obtain a dispensation for his 
 own." 
 
 61 1 recognize in this a vengeance from Rome ! This poor 
 pontiff is surrounded by flatterers who do everything to blind 
 him ; and because I figured in my satire Fortune their ignoble 
 faces, under the features of animals that resembled them, not 
 being able to injure me, their impotence leads them to attack 
 me in the persons of my friends. That is the secret of the 
 persecution which disturbs you. But calm yourself, re-assure 
 yourself, Salvator remains devoted to you, and Signor For- 
 mica shall undertake again to rescue you in this affair ! Re- 
 turn to Marianna, take to her from me friendly and consolatory 
 words to sustain her courage, and peaceably await the issue 
 of the plan which I am about to follow." 
 
 Antonio, subjected by the ascendancy of Salvator, obeyed 
 without reply. The same day Pasquale Capuzzi received a 
 ceremonious invitation in the name of the Accidentia de Per- 
 cossi. 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed he, in an ecstacy of pride, 
 " Florence is a wise city where every talent findg its place, 
 
284 Hoffmann's Strang* stories. 
 
 and judges fit to appreciate it ; Florence has then rendered 
 justice to the works of Master Capuzzi di Senegaglia ! " 
 
 The self-esteem of the old man was so flattered by a dis- 
 tinction which he took seriously, that, without caring more 
 about his spite against Salvator, president of the Academia 
 de Percossi, he took pains to hasten, in full dress, to meet 
 the honors which awaited him. The Spanish doublet was 
 thoroughly brushed, the yellow feather for the hat was cleaned, 
 the shoes were embellished with new rosettes, and the man of 
 Ripetta street, followed by his rapier, bounded from his hotel 
 to the palace inhabited by Salvator Rosa, before whom his 
 gratitude displayed itself by numerous reverential bows. 
 
 Capuzzi's reception was so well arranged that he thought 
 himself at the height of glory. After the academic session, 
 during which every one praised the exquisite penetration of 
 his judgment, the wit which shone, said they, in his least 
 words, he was invited to a splendid banquet, where several 
 glasses of generous wine drowned in sweet forgetfulness his 
 domestic grief, and the important business which had drawn 
 him to Florence. Profiting by this blissful state, Salvator 
 hastened to arrange, with the assistance of his friends, a little 
 play, with which he proposed to entertain his guest. At a 
 given signal, the draperies which ornamented the lower part 
 of the room were drawn slowly aside, and there appeared, as 
 if by magic, a natural bower covered with flowers. 
 
 "Divine goodness !" exclaimed Capuzzi. "What do I 
 see ? That is Nicolo Musso's theatre ! " 
 
 Without replying to him, two of the guests, Evangelista 
 Corieelli and Andrea Cavalcanti, took him by the arms, and 
 drew him softly towards an arm-chair, placed for him in front 
 of the stage on which the play was about to be enacted. — 
 Almost immediately Signor Formica appeared, in the dress of 
 a clown. 
 
 "Accursed Formica ! " exclaimed Capuzzi, springing from 
 his place, with his fist clenched. Rut his two neighbors, who 
 
SALVATOR ROSA. 285 
 
 had not quitted him, forced him to be seated again. The 
 clown weeping bitterly, spoke of cutting his throat or drown- 
 ing himself in the Tiber ; but, unfortunately, the sight of 
 blood irritated his nerves, and, on the other hand, he thought 
 that he could not throw himself into the water without im- 
 mediately beginning to swim. 
 
 Then doctor Qraziano came upon the stage, and asked him 
 the cause of his grief. 
 
 1 'Alas ! " said Pasquarello, "■ are you ignorant then, that 
 a vile scoundrel has carried off honest Signor Pasquale Capuzzi 
 di Senegaglia's niece ? " 
 
 "But," replied Graziano, "has justice not placed her hand 
 upon this guilty man ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Pasquarello, " as cunning as ho 
 may be, Antonio Scacciati could not escape the chastisement 
 prepared for him by the worthy Signor Capuzzi. Antonio is 
 arrested, his secret marriage with the pretty Marianna is de- 
 clared null by the Holy Father, and the fugitive dove has 
 gone back to Capuzzi 's cage." 
 
 "What! can it be true! " exclaimed Pasquale, seeking 
 to shake off the grasp of his neighbors, "that beggar An- 
 tonio is under key ? Oh Formica, I bless thee ! " 
 
 "Be so kind as not to move about so," said one of the 
 guardians of the poor madman, gravely; " your cries prevent 
 the other spectators from enjoying the spectacle." 
 
 Doctor Graziano continued his questions : — " The pope," 
 answered Pasquarello, " has given the necessary dispensation 
 for the marriage of Capuzzi with Marianna. All is ended ! 
 But the poor child has pined since this fatal marriage, and 
 Capuzzi is slowly killing her by his jealousy." 
 
 Whilst listening to this conversation, Capuzzi raved like a 
 demoniac, but his two neighbors held fast and did not allow 
 him to escape. Suddenly, Pasquarello exclaimed in a lamen- 
 table voice, that Marianna was dead. At the same time 
 funeral voices uttered a formidable de profundis in the dis- 
 
28G Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 tance, then the black penitents made the circuit of the stage 
 carrying an open bier, on which reposed, under a white shroud, 
 the remains of the unfortunate Marianna. An actor, dis- 
 guised in the costume and mask of Capuzzi, followed weepingly 
 this sad procession. The true Capuzzi could not resist this 
 spectacle, and his lamentations mingled with the sobs of the 
 actors. The stage suddenly becomes dark, the thunder roan, 
 the earth opens, and a spectre is seen to rise, whose pale 
 visage represents Marianna's father. 
 
 " Miserable brother ! " slowly uttered the citizen of the 
 other world; "what hast thou done with my child ? God 
 curses thee, murderer of Marianna ! Hell awaits thee ! " 
 
 Under the blow of this terrible threat, the false Capuzzi 
 fell upon the ground, and the real Capuzzi really fainted. 
 When he came to himself, his despair was pitiable ; he wrung 
 his hands and tore his garments. 
 
 "Ah, my poor child ! " exclaimed he, " my beloved Mari- 
 anna ! I have killed thee ! I am an unfortunate man ! An 
 infamous man ! " 
 
 Had this crisis lasted longer, the good man would have lost 
 his reason. Salvator made a sign : Antonio and Marianna, 
 who had advanced behind the arm-chair, threw themselves at 
 Capuzzi's feet. Marianna, covering his hands with kisses 
 and tears, implored her pardon and that of Antonio, who 
 belonged to her before God. At this sight, the paleness of 
 Capuzzi's face gave place to a tint of scarlet, his eyes flashed 
 like lightning, and his mouth was made up to utter curses.— 
 But Marianna, with a heavenly look, stopped the thunder : 
 
 " My uncle," said she, her hands joined, "pardon for him, 
 pardon for me ; do not separate us if you do not wish that I 
 should die ! " 
 
 And without giving him time to answer, all present ex- 
 claimed : — " How can the illustrious Signor Pasquale Capuzzi 
 di Senegaglia, the great master, who is the pride of Italy, 
 resist the tears, the prayers of the most beautiful of women, 
 
SALVATOR KOSA. 28? 
 
 who implores him as a father ! How can he refuse to grant 
 his niece to Antonio Scacciati the painter, whose glory already 
 equals his genius ! ' ' 
 
 The most intense emotion made the whole of Capuzzi's 
 frame palpitate : a violent combat was taking place in his 
 soul. Finally, tenderness triumphed over anger. He opened 
 his arms to Antonio and his niece, who fell at his feet. When 
 they rose again, there was no longer before them either Pas- 
 quareilo, or Formica ; the actor, who had filled this part with 
 unanimous applause, had thrown off his mask and his disguise, 
 henceforth useless. 
 
 " What, Salvator ! It was you ! " exclaimed at once Ca- 
 puzzi, Antonio and Marianna. 
 
 " Yes, my friends/' said the great artist, " yes, it was I who 
 played this part for your happiness ! It was I ; for a year, 
 the Romans, who despised my pictures and my poetry, covered 
 me every evening with frenzied applause at the theatre of the 
 People's Gate, without suspecting that, under the mask of 
 poor Formica, was hidden the despised artist, whose vengeance 
 punished their foibles. But I forgive the Romans, on your 
 account ! " 
 
 ' ' Master Salvator," said Capuzzi, "all the Romans were 
 not unjust towards you ; for I, I bavc always admired your 
 genius, although until now detesting your person. Obtain, 
 then, for me from your friend Antonio, the permission to end 
 my days under the same roof with my dear Marianna. I do 
 not believe that he can ever be jealous of me, even should he 
 sometimes see me adventure a kiss on the pretty little hand 
 of my niece. An uncle is nearly a father, especially at my 
 age ; and we shall be, henceforth, the best friends in the 
 world, if Antonio promises, besides this, to curl my gray 
 moustache himself, every Sunday ; it is a little deference 
 which I require, and which, I hope, will not humiliate him." 
 
 A thousand kisses from the pretty Marianna immediately 
 sealed this happy compact of a forgctf illness of the past. 
 
288 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Sal va tor Rosa, in a melancholy attitude, seemed to reflect 
 whilst contemplating his work. God alone knows the mysteri- 
 ous thought which clouded for a moment the features of the 
 great artist. 
 
 Capuzzi was joyful, when Antonio undertook to arrange 
 his venerable moustache in the most tasteful manner ; but he 
 would never set foot again in his house in Ripetta street. 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 
 
 
 CHAPTEB I. 
 
 * In the Rue St. Honore in Paris, during the reign of Louis 
 XIV. was situated a small house, inhabited by Magdalene de 
 Scuderi, the celebrated poetess, well known to the public, 
 both through her literary productions, and the distinctions 
 conferred on her by the King, and the gay Marchioness de 
 Main tenon. 
 
 Very late one night, (it might be the autumn of the year 
 1680,) there was heard at the door of this house a violent 
 knocking, which echoed through the whole corridor. Baptiste, 
 a man-servant, who, in the small establishment of the lady, 
 represented cook, valet, and porter, had, by her permission, 
 gone into the country to attend his sister's wedding, and thus 
 it happened that de Scuderi's waiting maid, la Martiniere, 
 was alone, and the only person who now kept watch in the 
 mansion. She heard the knocking repeated after a short si- 
 lence, and suddenly the painful reflection came on her mind, 
 that Baptiste was absent, and that she and her lady were left 
 quite defenceless against any wicked intruder. All the stories 
 of house-breaking, theft, and above all murder, which were 
 then so frequent in Paris, crowded at once on her remem- 
 brance, and she became almost convinced that some band of 
 assassins, aware of their lonely situation, were the cause of 
 this disturbance. If rashly admitted, they would doubtless 
 perpetrate some horrible outrage ; so she staid in her room, 
 25 
 
290 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 terrified and trembling, at the same time wishing in her heart 
 Baptiste (or rather his sister and her wedding party) an diable. 
 Meanwhile the knocking continued to thunder on ; and it 
 seemed as if she distinguished a voice at intervals, crying out 
 " Open the door, pour V amour de Dieu, — open the door ! — - 
 At last, in great agitation, Martiniere siezed the candle, and 
 ran out into the corridor, where she plainly heard the stranger's 
 voice, repeating anxiously and vehemently, " For God's sake 
 open the door ! " In truth," thought Martiniere, " no rob- 
 ber would speak in this manner ; who knows whether it may 
 not be some poor persecuted man, who seeks protection from 
 my lady, knowing that she is ever inclined to succor the dis- 
 tressed ? But let us be cautious." She now drew up a 
 window that looked into the street, and called out, " Who is 
 there, at such unseasonable hours, thundering at the gate, 
 and rousing everyone from sound sleep?" At the same 
 time she endeavored to give as much as possible of a manly 
 tone to her voice, which was naturally none of the weakest. 
 
 By the gleam of the moonlight, which just then broke 
 through the clouds, she perceived a tall slim figure, attired in a 
 light grey-colored mantle, and with a broad hat slouched over 
 his features. Thinking to intimidate him, she called out 
 within the house, but loudly, so that the stranger might hear 
 her, '* Baptiste — Claude — Pierre ! rouse, and see what is the 
 matter. Here is a good for nothing vagabond, who has been 
 knocking as if he would break down the house about our 
 ears." Then from without she was answered by the tones of 
 a soft and plaintive voice. " Martiniere," said the stranger, 
 " I know very well that it is you, however you may try to 
 disguise your accents. I know too that Baptiste has gone 
 into the country, and that you are alone in the house with 
 your lady. Be not afraid, but open the door for me. You 
 have nothing to apprehend ; but I must absolutely speak with 
 Mademoiselle de Scuderi, and this without a moment's delay." 
 " What art thou thinking of? " answered Martiniere, angrily ; 
 " thou wouldst speak with my lady, forsooth, in the middle of 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 29l 
 
 the night ? Shouldst thou not recollect, that she must be 
 long since asleep, and that I would not for the world disturb 
 her rest, which, at her time of life, is so needful? " 
 
 " On the contrary," said the man from below, " I know 
 very well that at this moment your lady has only just now 
 laid aside the manuscript of her new romance, on which she 
 labors night and day ; and that she is employed in writing 
 some verses, which, at to-morrow's levee, she intends reading 
 to the Marquise de Maintenon. In short, I am certain that 
 she is still awake, and I implore of you, Martiniere, have 
 compassion, and open the door, for, mark you ! on this inter- 
 view depends the rescue of an unfortunate man from utter 
 destruction. His honor, liberty, and life are at stake, and 
 must be forever lost, if he cannot speak with your mistress 
 directly. Reflect, too, that the noble lady would never for- 
 give you if she learned that by your obstinacy an unhappy 
 being was sent from her door, who in his distress came to beg 
 assistance." 
 
 " But for what reason," said Martiniere, " would you ap- 
 peal to my lady's compassion at this dead hour of the night? 
 Come back to-morrow at a proper time, and we shall then see 
 what maybe done." "How?" said the stranger; "will 
 misfortune, then, which strikes us, poor mortals, with the un- 
 expected rapidity of lightning, be regulated by hours and 
 minutes ? Even, if in one moment the possibility of rescue 
 may be lost, should, then, assistance be delayed because it 
 happens to be mid-night, instead of mid-day? Open the 
 door, and fear nothing from un pauvre miserable, who now, 
 forsaken by the world, and overwhelmed by his cruel destiny, 
 would implore your lady's protection from the dangers that 
 threaten him? " Martiniere perceived that the man's voice 
 faltered at these words, — that he even moaned and sobbed ; 
 moreover, his tones were those of a mere youth. Her heart 
 became at last so far softened, that without further reflection 
 she ran for the keys. 
 
 No sooner had she opened the door, than the strange figure, 
 
292 uoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 disguised in a long mantle, rushed in, and stepping past 
 Martiniere, called out with a loud voice in the corridor, 
 " Bring me directly into your lady's presence ! " Martiniere, 
 much alarmed, held up the candle, to try if she could recog- 
 nize his features, and the light fell upon the deadly pale and 
 agitated countenance of a very young man; but she had 
 almost fallen to the ground in her terror, when he suddenly 
 threw aside his mantle, and the glittering hilt of a stiletto 
 was visible in his bosom. The youth's eyes seemed to flash 
 fire on the poor waiting-maid, and in a voice wilder than ever 
 he repeated, "Lead me, I say, to your mistress!" Mar- 
 tiniere was now fully persuaded that her lady was in the most 
 imminent danger, and her attachment to the noble demoiselle, 
 whom she looked up to with even filial respect and veneration, 
 was such, that it got the better of her own fears, and gave 
 her a degree of firmness of which she would otherwise have 
 been quite incapable. Suddenly she closed the door of her 
 apartment, took her station before it, and, in a strong steady 
 voice, "In truth," said she, " your mad behavior here suits 
 ill with your humble complaints and entreaties, by which I 
 so rashly allowed myself to be persuaded. As to my lady, 
 you shall certainly not speak with her in this mood, nor have 
 you any right to make such a demand ; for if your intentions 
 are really blameless, there is no need that you should be afraid 
 of the daylight. Therefore come to-morrow, and you shall 
 be listened to ; but for the present, not a word more ; but 
 get out of the house. Pack up, and begone ! " 
 
 The strange youth heaved a long deep sigh, fixed a frightful 
 look on Martiniere, and grasped the hilt of his stiletto. — 
 The femme de chambre thought her last hour was come ; and 
 silently recommended herself to Heaven. However, she 
 stood firm, and boldly looked the young man in the face, 
 drawing herself up more closely against the door of the apart- 
 ment, through which it was necessary to pass in order to 
 arrive at that of de Scuderi. " Let me go to your lady, I 
 tell you once more ! " said the stranger, " or you may have 
 reason bitterly to repent your conduct when it is too late." 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 293 
 
 w Do what you will," said Martiniere, * I shall not stir 
 from this place. Fulfil the wicked intentions for which you 
 came ; though, remember, you and your accomplices will 
 one day die for them a shameful death on the scaffold." — 
 " Ha, truly," cried the young man in a frightful tone, " you 
 are in the right, Martiniere ! — the fate that awaits me is, in- 
 deed, dark and disgraceful ; but, as to my accomplice, he re- 
 mains yet safe, and unsuspected." With these words, cast- 
 ing terrific glances on the poor girl, he drew out the stiletto. 
 " Heaven have mercy ! " cried she, expecting that it was to 
 be plunged into her heart ; but, at that moment, the clang of 
 arms was heard in the street, and the trampling of horses. 
 " The Marechaussee —Marechaussee ! — Help — help ! " — 
 screamed la Martiniere. " Cruel woman," said the stranger, 
 1 ' thou art resolved on my utter destruction. Now, all is over, 
 and the opportunity lost. But, take this, and give it to your 
 lady to-night, if possible, or to-morrow morning, if you will ; 
 for to me, indeed, the time is now indifferent." In speaking 
 these words, rather in a low voice, the man had taken the 
 candlestick from la Martiniere, extinguished the light, and 
 forced a small casket into her hands. u On your hopes of 
 salvation,' y said he, "I conjure you, Martiniere, that you 
 will deliver this box to your lady." Then he abruptly threw 
 away the candlestick, turned round, and sprang out at the 
 door. Martiniere, meanwhile, was so terrified, not knowing 
 what he intended to do, that she had fallen, half fainting, on 
 the floor. With difficulty she raised herself, and, in the 
 dark, groped her way back to the room, where, quite con- 
 fused and exhausted, she sank into her arm-chair. From this 
 stupor she was suddenly awoke, by the harsh creaking noise 
 made by turning the key, which, in her fright, she had left in 
 the lock of the house door. Afterwards she heard it firmly 
 closed, and cautious steps, as of some one groping the way to 
 her chamber. Her consternation was now greater than ever ; 
 and she sat motionless, expecting some horrible event, till the 
 door opened, and by the glimmer of her night-lamp, she rec- 
 25* 
 
294 HOFFMANN S STBANGJfl STORIES. 
 
 ognized the honest Baptiste, who looked deadly pale, and was 
 in great agitation. 
 
 " For the love of all the saints," he began, " tell me, 
 Mam'selle Martiniere, what has happened? — Oh, the terror 
 that I have suffered ! — I know not rightly what could be the 
 reason, but my own apprehension absolutely drove me away 
 from the wedding to-night ; so I set out earlier than any one 
 else, on the road homeward, and at length arrived in our 
 street. Now, thinks I to myself, Martiniere is very easily 
 awoke ; she will hear me for certain, and let me in if I knock 
 softly and cautiously at the house door. But, ere I had 
 come so far, behold there appears against me the whole posse 
 of the watch, cavalry forsooth, and infantry, armed up to the 
 teeth. They directly take me prisoner, and, notwithstanding 
 all my expostulations, will not let me go ; but luckily, Des- 
 grais is among them, who knows me very well. As they 
 were holding their lanterns up to my nose, he says, * How, 
 now, Baptiste, whither are you wandering now in the dark ? 
 You should rather stay at home, like a careful man, and keep 
 watch over the house. In truth, it is by no means convenient 
 for you, or any one else to be on the streets to-night. We 
 are resolved to let no individual pass whom we do not know, 
 and think ourselves sure of one prisoner at least, before day- 
 break.' You can easily imagine, Martiniere, how much I 
 was alarmed by these words, as I was thus assured that some 
 new and atrocious crimes must have been discovered. But 
 now, as I was going to tell you, I had come almost to the 
 threshold of our own house, and, there a man, disguised in a 
 long grey mantle, rushes out with a drawn dagger in his hand ; 
 I could mark him well, for he passed and repassed me. On 
 my entrance, I find the house door left open, the key still in 
 the lock ; — tell me, what is the meaning of all this? " 
 
 Martiniere being now somewhat tranquillized, described to 
 him all that had happened. She and Baptiste went together 
 to reconnoitre in the corridor, where they only found the can- 
 dlestick on the floor, as it had been thrown down by the 
 
CAKDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 295 
 
 strange man, when he made his escape. "From your ac- 
 count/' said Baptiste, "it is but too certain that my lady 
 was to have been robbed, and probably murdered. The man, 
 as you tell me, knew that you were with her quite unpro- 
 tected, — nay, that she was awake, and employed on her 
 writings. No doubt, he was one of these accursed miscreants 
 who force themselves into the interior of houses, and make 
 themselves acquainted with every circumstance which may be 
 serviceable for the execution of their devilish plans. And, as 
 for the little casket, Mam'selle, we should, in my opinion, 
 throw it into the deepest pool of the Seine. For, who can 
 tell whether some wicked monster has not designs against the 
 life of our lady, and that, when she opens the box, she may 
 not drop down dead, like the old Marquis de Tournay, when 
 he broke open the seal of a letter which he had received from 
 an unknown hand ? " 
 
 After long consultation, the two faithful domestics at last 
 resolved that they would describe to their lady all that had 
 occurred ; and also deliver into her hands the mysterious box, 
 which certainly might be opened, though not without regular 
 precautions. After maturely reflecting on every circumstance 
 attending the stranger's appearance, they agreed that the mat- 
 ter was of far too much consequence for them to decide upon, 
 and that they must leave the unravelling of this mystery to 
 the wise and learned demoiselle. 
 
 Before proceeding any farther with our story, we must 
 here observe, that Martiniere's dread of assassination, and 
 Baptiste's apprehension of poison being concealed in the 
 casket, were by no means without foundation. Exactly at 
 this period, Paris was the scene of the most horrible atro- 
 cities, and perhaps the most diabolical inventions that ever 
 entered a human brain, supplied unprincipled people with the 
 means of gratifying their passions. One Glaser, or Glazier, 
 a German apothecary, who was the best operative chemist of 
 his time, had long busied himself (as usual with people of his 
 
2 ( JG Hoffmann's strange stokiks.' 
 
 profession,) in endeavors to find out the transmutation of 
 metals, and the elixir vitce. He had taken into partnership 
 an Italian, named Exili, who, for some time, also bore a good 
 character, but to him, at last, the art of making gold only 
 served as a pretext for following out the most abominable of 
 all designs. While Glazier thought merely of discovering 
 the philosopher's stone, the Italian was secretly employed in 
 the constant mixing, distilling, and subliming of poisons, 
 which at last he brought to such perfection, that he could 
 produce death in many different ways, and either without any 
 trace of such operation left in the body, or with symptoms so 
 new and unheard of, that the physicians were completely de- 
 ceived ; and, not suspecting this kind of assassination, as- 
 cribed the patient's death to some inscrutable decree of Prov- 
 idence. 
 
 Cautiously as Exili went to work, he was at last suspected 
 as a vender of poison, and was thrown into the Bastile. — 
 Soon afterwards, he had an opportunity of becoming acquainted 
 during his confinement with a certain Captain de St. Croix, a 
 man of infamous character, who had long lived with the Mar- 
 chioness de Brinvilliers, under circumstances which brought 
 disgrace on all her connections, till at last, as the Marquis 
 seemed to care nothing about his wife's conduct, her father 
 Dreux d'Aubray was necessitated to separate the criminals 
 by an arrestment, which he carried into execution against St. 
 Croix. 
 
 Wholly unprincipled as this man was, and (though coun- 
 terfeiting piety !) inclined from his earliest youth to every 
 species of vice ; jealous — revengeful, even to madness, he 
 could not have met with any discovery more welcome and 
 congenial to his disposition, than the diabolical contrivances 
 of Exili, which seemed to give him the power of annihilating 
 all his enemies. He became, therefore, a zealous scholar of 
 the Italian, and was soon equally skilful with his master, 
 whose imprisonment continued, but St. Croix being soon after 
 liberated, was in a condition to carry on this infernal trade. 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 297 
 
 Of course be betook himself again, though cautiously and 
 in secret, to his former mistress, and de Brinvilliers, who was 
 only a depraved woman, became, with the help of St. Croix, 
 an absolute monster. Gradually she was led on to poison 
 her own father with whom she lived, hypocritically pretending 
 to nurse him in his old age, and in like manner, her brothers 
 and sisters were sacrificed. Against her father, she was in- 
 stigated only by revenge, because he had interposed his au- 
 thority to deprive her of her paramour ; but as to the rest, 
 she had other motives, for by their deaths she succeeded to a 
 very rich inheritance. 
 
 From various examples of such assassins, we may prove the 
 horrible truth, that the inclination towards crimes of this de- 
 scription becomes at last an absolute ruling passion, without 
 any other object but the unnatural pleasure they derive from 
 it, (as the alchemist makes experiments for his own diversion.) 
 Such dealers in poison have often destroyed individuals, whose 
 life or death must have been to them, in other respects, per- 
 fectly indifferent. The sudden and almost simultaneous death 
 of many poor prisoners at the Hotel Dieu, afterwards raised 
 the suspicion that the bread was poisoned which de Brinvil- 
 liers used to share out among them, in order to acquire a 
 reputation as a model of piety and benevolence. 
 
 However this might be, it is historically certain, that she 
 many times poisoned the dishes at her own table, especially 
 Perigord pies, and placed them before the distinguished guests 
 that were invited to her house, so that the Chevalier de Guet, 
 and several other persons of eminence, fell victims to those 
 demoniacal banquets. Notwithstanding all these practices, 
 however, St. Croix, de Brinvilliers, and a female assistant 
 named la Chaussee, were able for a long time to keep their 
 crimes under an impenetrable veil. There was, at all events, 
 no sufficient proof against them, nor could their physicians 
 always decide that their victims had died by poison ; but 
 whatever may be the cunning and hypocrisy of such wretches, 
 Divine justice never fails, sooner or later, to overtake the 
 guilty. 
 
298 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 The poisons which St. Croix compounded were of a nature 
 so fine and subtle, that if the greatest caution were not ob- 
 served in preparing the powder, (since named by the Paris- 
 ians poudre de succession,) a single chance inhalation might 
 cause the instant death of the artist. St. Croix, therefore, 
 when engaged in his operations, wore a mask, principally made 
 of glass, and with the nostrils covered with silk ; but this 
 happened to fall off one day, when he was in the act of shak- 
 ing a powder, just prepared, into a phial, and in an instant, 
 (being already almost suffocated for want of breath,) having 
 inhaled some of the fine dust which flew about him, he fell 
 down and almost immediately expired. 
 
 As he had died without heirs, the officers of the law hast- 
 ened to his apartments to take charge of his effects. There 
 they found, shut up in a box. the whole arsenal of poisons, by 
 means of which St. Croix had carried on his work of destruc- 
 tion \ and besides this, there were found many letters of de 
 Brinvilliers, which left no doubts as to her guilt. She fled 
 accordingly to a convent at Liege ; but Desgrais, the principal 
 officer of police, was sent after her. Disguised as a monk, he 
 appeared in the convent, where she had taken refuge, and 
 (his features luckily being unknown to her,) he succeeded in 
 drawing this abominable woman into an intrigue, and per- 
 suaded her to make an assignation with him in a retired gar- 
 den beyond the town walls. Immediately on her arrival 
 there, she was surrounded by the catch-poles of Desgrais ; 
 the amorous monk transformed himself into a police officer, 
 and forced her into a carriage that stood ready near the gar- 
 den, when, with a guard of cavalry, they drove off directly 
 for Paris. La Chaussee had by this time been brought to 
 the block ; de Brinvilliers soon suffered the same death, after 
 which her body was burned, and her ashes strewn to the wind. 
 
 The Parisians felt themselves greatly relieved, when these 
 monsters were taken from the world, who could, unpunished 
 and unsuspected, direct their machinations against friend and 
 foe ; but soon afterwards it was proved, that though the town 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 299 
 
 might be rid of St. Croix and his accomplices, yet their art 
 had not disappeared along with them. Like an invisible demon, 
 the same horrid guilt of assassination continued to make its 
 way even into the bosom of families, breaking through the 
 most confidential circles that love and friendship could frame. 
 He who had been to-day in the utmost bloom of health, might 
 be found to-morrow tottering about in the most wretched 
 state of decline ; and no skill of the physician could rescue 
 such victims from a certain death. Riches, a comfortable 
 place in the legislature, a young and handsome wife — any 
 such advantages were sufficient to direct against their posses- 
 sors the relentless malice of these invisible assassins. Cruel 
 distrust and suspicion dissolved the most sacred ties among 
 relations. Husband and wife, father and son, sister and 
 brother, were alienated by the terror which they felt one of 
 another. At the social banquet, food and wine often remained 
 untouched, while, instead of indulging in innocent mirth, the 
 party, with pale and confused looks, were trying to find out the 
 concealed murderer. At length fathers of families might be 
 seen timidly purchasing provisions in remote districts, and 
 dressing the food thus obtained, in some neighboring boutique, 
 fearing the treachery that might lurk under their own roofs. 
 Yet in many instances all these precautions were used in vain. 
 , The king, in order as much as possible to stem this torrent 
 of iniquity, established a peculiar court of justice, to which 
 he gave exclusively the commission to search into, and punish 
 these crimes. This was the institution named the Chambre 
 Ardente, which held its sittings under the Bastile, and of 
 which la Regnie was the president. For a considerable time, 
 this man's endeavors, zealously as they were carried on, proved 
 in vain ; it was reserved for the cunning Desgrais to trace out 
 the guilty, even in the most obscure hiding places. In the 
 Faubourg de St. Germain, there lived an old woman named 
 la Voisin, who employed herself in conjuration and fortune- 
 telling, and who, with the help of two confederates, le Sage 
 and la Vigoureux, had been able to excite the fear and as- 
 
300 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 tonishment, even of persons who were not generally to be 
 considered weak or credulous. But she did more than this, — 
 having had an opportunity, like St. Croix, of obtaining lessons 
 from Exili, she also prepared, in like manner, that fine undis- 
 coverable poison, by means of which she assisted reckless, 
 mercenary sons to arrive, before the due time, at their inher- 
 itance, and depraved wives to get younger husbands. Des- 
 grais, however, found means to pluck the veil from all her 
 mysteries, and consequently she was brought to trial, and 
 made a full confession. The Chambre Ardent e sentenced 
 her to be burned at the Place de Greve, where she was exe- 
 cuted accordingly. 
 
 There was found among her papers a list of all the persons 
 who had availed themselves of her art, so that one execution 
 was rapidly followed by another ; and very serious suspicions 
 were entertained even against people of the highest rank. — 
 Among other examples, it was alleged that Cardinal Bronzy 
 had obtained from her means of bringing to an untimely end 
 all the persons to whom, as Bishop of Narbonne, he was 
 under the necessity of paying yearly pensions. In like man- 
 ner, the Duchess de Bouillon, and the Countess de Soissons, 
 whose names were on the list, were accused with having dealt 
 with the infernal sorceress ; and even Francis Henri de Mont- 
 morenci, Duke of Luxemburg, marshal and peer of the realm, 
 was not spared. He gave himself to imprisonment in the 
 Bastile, where, through the hatred of Louvois and la Regnie, 
 he was confined to a cell only six feet square, and months 
 past away before the means were found to prove that the 
 Duke's misdemeanor had not been such as to deserve punish- 
 ment. He had only been foolish enough, on one occasion, to 
 have his horoscope drawn and calculated by le Sage. There 
 can be no doubt that it was principally the blindness of over- 
 zeal, by which the president la Regnie was led to such acts of 
 cruelty and vengeance : however, his tribunal now assumed 
 altogether the character of a Catholic inquisition, and the 
 slightest suspicions were suflicient grounds for prosecution 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ' 301 
 
 and imprisonment, while it was often left to mere chance to 
 prove the innocence of persons accused of capital crimes. — 
 Besides, la Regnie was both hideous in appearance, and na- 
 turally spiteful in temper, so that he soon drew on himself 
 the hatred of that public whose tranquillity he had been 
 chosen to protect. The Duchess de Bouillon being interro- 
 gated by him, whether, at her meeting with the sorceress, she 
 had seen the devil; she answered, "no; but methinks I see 
 him 7iow" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 During that frightful period when the blood of the sus- 
 pected and guilty flowed in torrents upon the scaffold, so that 
 at length the secret murders by poison had become more rare 
 of occurrence, a new disturbance arose, which more than ever 
 filled the city with terror and astonishment. Some mysteri- 
 ous band of miscreants seemed in league together, for the 
 purpose of bringing into their own possession all the finest 
 jewelry in Paris. No sooner had a rich ornament been pur- 
 chased, than, however carefully it had been locked up, it van- 
 ished immediately, in a manner the most inconceivable. It 
 was far more intolerable, however, that every one who ven- 
 tured out at night with jewels on his person, was attacked on 
 the streets, (or in dark courts and alleys,) and robbed of his 
 property, while, though some escaped with life, scarcely a week 
 passed away, in which several murders were not committed. 
 Those who were fortunate enough to survive such an attack, 
 deponed that they had been knocked down by a blow on the 
 head, as resistlessly as if it had been a thunderbolt, and that 
 on awakening from their stupefaction, they had found them- 
 selves robbed, and lying in a situation quite different from 
 that where they had first received the blow. On the other 
 hand, the person who had been murdered, and some of whom 
 were found almost every second morning upon the streets, or 
 in the dark entrances to houses, had all one and the same 
 26 
 
302 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 deadly wound ; namely, a stab in the heart, which, according 
 to the opinion of the surgeons, must kill so instantaneously, 
 that the victim so struck would, without a scream or groan, 
 fall instantly lifeless to the ground. 
 
 Now, at the luxurious and gay court of Louis XIV. what 
 young nobleman was there to be found, who had not some 
 amorous intrigue, and who did not glide through the dark 
 streets at a late hour, bearing oftentimes rich jewels as a pres- 
 ent to his mistress ? — As if the murderers had been aided by 
 some direct intercourse with the devil, they knew exactly 
 where and when any opportunity of this kind was to occur. 
 Frequently the unfortunate man was not allowed to reach the 
 scene of his love adventures ; at other times he was struck 
 dead on the threshold of the house, or at the chamber door of 
 his mistress, who with horror discovered on the following 
 morning the ghastly corpse. 
 
 In vain did Argenson, the police minister, order every in- 
 dividual to be arrested who seemed in any degree suspicious ; 
 in vain did the passionate la Regnie foam with rage, and en- 
 deavor by torture to force out confession ; in vain, too, were 
 the watchmen doubled in number ; no trace of the criminals 
 could be discovered. Only the precaution of going fully 
 armed, and employing torch-bearers, seemed to have some 
 effect, and yet there were instances, when the attendants, if 
 not sufficiently numerous, were brought into confusion by 
 large stones being thrown at them ; while, at the same time, 
 their master, as it usually happened, was robbed and mur- 
 dered. It was especially wondered at, that, notwithstanding 
 the minutest inquiries in every place where the traffic in 
 jewels could be practicable, no evidence was to be found that 
 any of the stolen goods had been offered for sale ; in short, 
 all the ordinary means of justice to bring about discovery 
 were completely baffled. 
 
 Desgrais, the principal police officer, was furiously enraged 
 that the miscreants should have been able to escape from his 
 cunning and contrivance. Indeed, that quarter of the town, 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 303 
 
 (commonly thought the most unquiet,) in which he was 
 stationed, was, for the most part, spared ; while, in other 
 districts where no one apprehended any outrage, the robbers 
 and assassins failed not almost every night to find out new 
 victims. Under these circumstances, Desgrais bethought 
 himself of a good ruse de guerre, viz. : to multiply his own 
 personal identity ; in plainer words, to dress up different in- 
 dividuals, so exactly like himself, and who resembled him so 
 much in gait, voice, figure, and features, that even the catch- 
 poles and patrol did not know which was the true Desgrais*. 
 Meanwhile, he used to watch quite alone, at the risk of his 
 life, in the most retired lanes -and courts, from which he would 
 at times emerge, and cautiously follow any individual who 
 seemed, by his appearance, likely to bear about his person 
 property of value. The person so followed remained always 
 unmolested, so that, of this contrivance, too, the assassins 
 must have been fully instructed, and Pesgrais fell into abso- 
 lute despair. 
 
 At length he came one morning to the President la Eegnie, 
 pale, disordered, and, indeed, quite beside himself. "What's 
 the matter now?" said the President, '*what news? Have 
 you found any trace? " " Ha ! your Excellence,' ' stammer- 
 ing in his agitation, — " your Excellence,— last night, not far 
 from the Louvre, the Marquis de la Fare was attacked in my 
 presence." " Heaven and earth ! " shouted la Regnie, " then 
 we have them at last! "» — "Oh, hear only," said Desgrais, 
 with a bitter smile ; * hear only, in the first place, how it 
 happened. I was standing at the Louvre, and with feelings 
 that could scarcely be envied, even by the damned, waiting 
 for those demons that have so long mocked at our endeavors. 
 Then, with steps rather unsteady, and always turning his 
 head, as if to watch some one behind, there comes up a pas- 
 senger, who went by without observing me. By the moon- 
 light I recognized that this was the Marquis de la Fare ; I 
 could keep watch over him from the place where I stood, and 
 I knew very well whence and whither he was going. Scarcely 
 
304 Hoffmann's strange stokies. 
 
 had he proceeded ten or twelve paces farther, when a man 
 started up, as if he had risen out of the earth, attacked the 
 Marquis, and knocked him down. Without reflection, and 
 overcome by the impulse of the moment, which promised to 
 give the murderer at once into my hands, I shouted aloud, 
 and thought that with one vehement bound I could dart from 
 my hiding-place, and seize upon him. But, as ill luck would 
 have it, there I entangle myself in the skirts of my mantle, 
 and fall down. I see the man hastening away swift as the 
 wind. I scramble up, run after him, and, in running, blow 
 my trumpet. In an instant I am answered by the whistles of 
 the patrol ; — all is in commotion ; — from all quarters is heard 
 the clang of arms, or trampling of horses. " Here — here ! " 
 cried I in my loudest tone, " Desgrais ! Desgrais ! " till the 
 streets re-echoed to my voice. Still, by the clear moonlight, 
 I could see the man moving before me, and keep a strict 
 watch on all the turnings that he makes to elude me. We 
 come at last into the Rue de la Nicaise, where his strength in 
 running appeared completely to fail him. I, of course, exert 
 myself with double energy. At that time he had got before 
 me only, at the utmost, fifteen paces " 
 
 ' * You overtake him — you sieze him — the patrol comes up ? ' ' 
 roared la Regnie, with glaring eyes, and catching Desgrais by 
 the arm, as if he had been the flying murderer. " Fifteen 
 steps," repeated Desgrais in a hollow voice, and so much 
 agitated that he could scarely breathe; "fifteen steps or 
 thereabouts, distant before me, the man starts away out of the 
 moonlight into the dark shade, and vanishes through the 
 wall ! " 
 
 "Are you mad ? " said la Regnie, indignant and disap- 
 pointed. " From this hour onwards," said Desgrais, rubbing 
 his brows, "your excellency may call me a madman, — an in- 
 sane visionary, if you will ; but the truth is neither more nor 
 less than I have narrated. I stood staring at the wall, almost 
 petrified with astonishment, when several of the patrol came 
 up, and with them the Marquis de la Fare, who had recovered 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 305 
 
 Ills senses, and now appeared sword in hand. We Lad our 
 torches lighted, and examined the place with the greatest 
 care ; but there was no trace to be found of a door or window, 
 or, in short, of any opening whatever. It is a strong stone 
 wall of a court, adjoining to a house in which people are liv- 
 ing, to whom not the slightest suspicion is attached. Even 
 this very day, by sunlight, I have examined the whole prem- 
 ises with the most scrupulous care, and, doubtless, it must be 
 the very devil himself who mocks at us in this manner." 
 
 Desgrais's narrative was soon made known all over Paris. 
 People's heads were full of the sorceries, incantations, com- 
 pacts with the devil, &c, attributed to la Voisin, la Vigoreux, 
 and other renowned disciples of le Sage, and the mob are 
 always ready to carry to an extreme their belief in the mar- 
 vellous, — that which Desgrais had said in a fit of passion was 
 now circulated through the town as the mere truth. Every 
 one alleged that the devil himself was protecting in this world 
 those wicked mortals who had sold him their souls, and as 
 might be expected, Desgrais's story received many embellish- 
 ments. A kind of popular romance was rapidly got up on 
 this foundation, with a frontispiece representing the police- 
 officer staring at a hideous figure of the devil, who was in the 
 act of sinking before his astonished eyes into the earth. This 
 book alone was enough to terrify the people, and even to take 
 all courage from the watchmen, who now in the night season 
 wandered through the streets terrified and desponding, hung 
 with amulets and drenched with holy water. 
 
 Argenson soon perceived that the Chambre Ardente would 
 completely lose its character, and applied to the king, recom- 
 mending the establishment of a new court of justice, destined 
 exclusively for the discovery and punishment of these mid- 
 night assassinations. But the king, conscious that he had 
 already given too much power to the Chambre Ardente, and 
 in horror at the numberless executions which were forced on 
 by the blood-thirsty la Regnie, entirely rejected this proppsal. 
 
 It was requisite, therefore, to form some other plan, by which 
 26* . •• . < 
 
306 Hoffmann's strange stokiks. 
 
 Louis might be led into this arrangement. Accordingly, at 
 the apartments of the Marquis de Maintenon, where he used 
 to spend his afternoons, and even to hold councils with his 
 ministers till late in the night, a poem was one day handed to 
 him, purporting to be the joint production of certain perplexed 
 lovers, and complaining that where gallantry dictated they 
 should carry a rich present to some favorite lady, they must 
 now-a-days always risk their lives in the undertaking. It was, 
 no doubt, as they alleged, a delight as well as a duty to en- 
 counter all dangers for the sake of a beloved and beautiful 
 mistress, at a knightly tournament — but it was quite a different 
 affair as to the malicious and cowardly attack of an assassin, 
 against whom one could not always be armed, nor have any 
 fair chance. But king Louis, forsooth, was the gleaming pole- 
 star of gallantry and knighthood, — whose rays were to break 
 through the nocturnal darkness, and bring to light these mys- 
 terious crimes which had been so long concealed. Moreover, 
 this idolized hero, who had crushed his enemies to the earth, 
 would now, too, brandish his victorious sword, and like Her- 
 cules with the Lernaean serpent, or Theseus with the Minotaur, 
 would oppose the horrid demon of assassination which de- 
 stroyed all the raptures of mutual love, and changed all inno- 
 cent delights into sorrow and hopeless lamentation. 
 
 Such, for the most part, was the overstrained and absurd 
 style of the poem, which, however, was just as praiseworthy 
 as French heroics generally are. Serious as the matter might 
 seem, there was yet no want of humorous delineation, how 
 the lovers, gliding cautiously and in secret to the habitations 
 of their mistresses, were unavoidably subjected to the influence 
 of fear and apprehension, and how they came pale and trem- 
 bling into her presence, before whom they should only have 
 appeared bold and buoyant in spirit. There was here, also, 
 a good spicing of double entendre, and when, over and above 
 these merits, the whole was rounded off with a high-flown 
 panegyric on King Louis, nothing less could be expected, but 
 that he would, at all events, read it through with satisfaction. 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER, 307 
 
 This happened accordingly ; he even read it over aloud to 
 the Marchioness de Maintenon, and then, with a good humored 
 smile, asked her what she thought of this petition ? 
 
 De Maintenon, who always kept up a becoming gravity of 
 demeanor, and who was not without pretensions (however ill 
 founded) to piety and devotion, replied, that the robbers and 
 assassins, no doubt, should, if possible, be discovered and 
 brought to punishment, but as for those idle libertines, who, 
 of their own accord, exposed themselves to danger, — walking 
 by stealth, and in the dark, they did not, in her opinion, de- 
 serve any particular protection. The king, not satisfied with 
 this vague answer, folded up the paper, and was on the point 
 of returning to the secretary of State, who was at work in 
 the adjoining room, when his eye lighted by chance on our 
 heroine, de Scuderi, who had taken her place not far from 
 the Marchioness. To the former he now betook himself, and 
 the smile, which had vanished on his features, was again re- 
 newed. M The Marchioness,' ' said he, " is determined not to 
 countenance the goings-on of our young gallants, and will not 
 meet me on ground which she considers forbidden. 'But I 
 appeal to you, Mademoiselle, as a poetess, what is your opinion 
 of this rhyming supplication?" A fleeting blush, like the 
 twilight of an evening sky, coursed over the pale cheeks of 
 the venerable lady. She rose respectfully from her chair, 
 dropped a low courtesy, and, with downcast eyes replied, 
 
 " Un amant qui craint des volcurs, 
 N'est point digne d'amour."* 
 
 The chivalrous spirit of these few words was admirably 
 suited to the disposition of Louis XI Y. and instantly effaced 
 from his mind all the prolix tirades of the poem. His eyes 
 sparkled, and he exclaimed, with great vivacity, " By St. 
 Denis, Mademoiselle, you are in the right ! No blind ordi- 
 nance of Justice, that strikes the innocent along with the 
 guilty, shall afford protection to cowardice. Let Argenson 
 and la Regnie play their own parts as well as they can, but we 
 shall not give ourselves any farther trouble ! " 
 
 * A lover, who fears thieves, is not worthy of love. 
 
308 Hoffmann's strange stohiks. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Now to return, (after this long digression,) to our story ; 
 all the horrors of this eventful period weighed on Martiniere's 
 mind, when, on the following morning, she related to her 
 mistress what had happened in the night, and, with fear and 
 trembling, delivered up the mysterious casket. On this 
 occasion both she and Baptiste, who stood pale as death, 
 twirling and plaiting his cap in a corner, became almost 
 speechless with anxiety. However, they begged of their 
 Lady by no means to open the box without the utmost possi- 
 ble foresight and precaution. " You are both very childish," 
 said she, calmly weighing it in her hand; "that I am not 
 rich, — that I have no concealed treasure in my possession, 
 that would be worth the trouble of a murder, is known doubt- 
 less to these street assassins, just as well as to you or me. — 
 You think that attempts are made against my life ; but to 
 whom could the death of an old woman of seventy-three be 
 of importance, especially one who never expressed enmity or 
 resentment against any mortal, except the robbers and peace- 
 breakers in her own romances ? One, moreover, who cannot 
 excite envy, having no other merit of distinction, than that of 
 composing very middling verses, — and who has no estate to 
 leave behind her except the parure of an antiquated demois- 
 elle, who was obliged to appear at court, and a few dozen 
 books in gilt binding. In short, Martiniere, you may describe 
 this man in the most frightful colors that you can invent, but, 
 for my part, I cannot believe that he had any evil intentions. 
 
 So then," With these words she prepared to open the 
 
 box. Martiniere, who had little doubt that the contents were 
 poisoned, started back, and Baptiste, with a groan, almost 
 fell on his knees, when he saw his Lady press on a steel but- 
 ton that served in place of a lock, and the lid flew open with 
 a rattling noise. How was de Scuderi astonished, when she 
 saw glittering, on a red velvet lining, a magnificent necklace 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 309 
 
 made of the rarest jewels, finely set in gold, and a pair of 
 bracelets of the same description ! 
 
 She took out the necklace, admiring its fine workmanship, 
 while Martiniere, having gained courage, was ogling the rich 
 bracelets, and insisting that the proud Duchess de Montespan 
 herself did not possess such ornaments. " But what means 
 this?" said de Scuderi, perceiving a small nicely-folded billet 
 among the jewels. " What has this letter to say ? " She 
 justly expected to find here some explanation of the mystery ; 
 but no sooner had she perused the billet, than she let it drop, 
 clasped her hands in consternation, and then, almost fainting, 
 sank back into her chair. " Oh, this insult ! ■* cried she ; 
 " must the reproach be reserved for me in my old age, of 
 having behaved with thoughtless levity, like a young silly 
 girl ? Good Heaven ! Are words thrown out in jest capable of 
 such frightful interpretation ? And am I, who, from child- 
 hood, up to the present hour, have been constant in all the 
 exercises of devotion, to be looked upon as almost an accom- 
 plice in this devilish conspiracy ? " 
 
 De Scuderi now held her handkerchief to her eyes, and 
 
 even sobbed so violently, that Martiniere and Baptiste, in 
 
 their anxiety and terror, were quite confounded, and knew 
 
 not what to do. The waiting-maid at length took up the fatal 
 
 billet, at the commencement of which was written these words : 
 
 u Un amant qui craint des volturs, 
 N'est point digne d'amour." 
 
 The rest was as follows. " Have the goodness, Madem- 
 oiselle, to accept, from some unknown friends, the accompany- 
 ing jewels. Of late, we had fallen into great danger from 
 an intolerable persecution, though our only crime is, that, ex- 
 ercising the natural rights of the strong over the weak, we 
 appropriate to ourselves treasures that would otherwise be 
 unworthily squandered; — but, by your wit and talents, we 
 have been rescued from the fate that awaited us. As a proof 
 of our respect and gratitude, we have sent you this necklace, 
 and the accompanying ornaments, which, however unworthy 
 
310 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 of you, arc the most valuable that we have for a long time 
 been able to meet with. We trust that you will not withdraw 
 from us your friendship and kind remembrance. 
 
 (Signed) The Invisibles." 
 
 " Is it possible," said de Scuderi,when she had in some degree 
 recovered, that any human beings can keep up such a system 
 of shameless wickedness and depravity ? " The sun was now 
 shining bright through the window curtains, which were of 
 red silk, and the brilliants which lay on the table gleamed 
 and sparkled in the deep-colored light. De Scuderi happening 
 to look at them, turned away with abhorrence, and ordered 
 Martiniere to remove those frightful objects, which seemed to 
 her imagination stained with the blood of some murdered vic- 
 tim. The waiting-maid having put the jewels into the box, 
 was of opinion, that it would be best to deliver them up to 
 the minister of police, and confide to him the whole story of 
 the young man's nocturnal visit, and his having left the casket 
 in her house. De Scuderi rose and walked slowly to and fro 
 through the chamber, reflecting for the first time what was 
 best to be done. At length she ordered Baptiste to call a 
 sedan chair, and Martiniere to dress her as soon as possible, 
 as she would go directly to the Marquis de Maintenon. Ac- 
 cordingly, she was carried to the house of that lady, exactly 
 at the hour when the latter, as de Scuderi expected, was alone 
 in her apartments, and, of course, she took with her the casket 
 containing the mysterious jewels. 
 
 Doubtless the Marchioness must have been much astonished 
 when she saw the lady de Scuderi (who, at other times, not- 
 withstanding her advanced age, had been the very beau ideal 
 of grace and dignity,) now enter the room, pale, confused, 
 awkward, and tottering. " What, for the love of all the saints, 
 has happened to you V " said she, while the poor demoiselle, 
 quite beside herself, and ready to faint, only tried, as soon as 
 possible, to reach an arm-chair, which the Marchioness offered 
 to her. At last, when she was again able to speak, de Scu- 
 deri described, with great eloquence, the gross and indelible 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 31 1 
 
 insult and disgrace which had been brought on her, in conse- 
 quence of the thoughtless badinage with which, in the king's 
 presence, she had answered the supplication of the perplexed 
 lovers. The Marchioness, when she had heard the whole 
 story, was of opinion that de Scuderi took this occurrence too 
 deeply to heart, and that the insolence and depravity of 
 wretches like these, ought never to disturb the tranquillity of 
 a noble and elevated mind. The jewels were then produced, 
 and as soon as the Marchioness beheld them, she could not 
 help uttering an exclamation of delight and approval. She 
 took out the necklace and carried it to the window, where she 
 alternately held the brilliants at a distance to mark how they 
 glittered in the sun, and drew them nearer, in order to exam- 
 ine the fine workmanship of the gold, admiring with what 
 exquisite art every link of the chain was elaborated. Having 
 ended her scrutiny, the Marchioness turned to de Scuderi, 
 and said, " Do you know, mademoiselle, that no one could 
 have made this necklace or the bracelets but the celebrated 
 Rene Cardillac?" 
 
 At that time Rene Cardillac was, without one exception, 
 the best goldsmith in Paris, and besides, celebrated as One of 
 the most ingenious and singular men of the age. Rather of 
 low stature, but, broad-shouldered, and of Herculean strength, 
 Cardillac, though now more than fifty years of age, had still 
 the full strength and activity of youth. This uncommon 
 energy was still farther betokened by his thickly-curled red- 
 dish hair, and the resolute expression of his compressed glis- 
 tening visage, while, if he had not been known through all 
 Paris as one of the most honorable and correct of citizens, 
 disinterested, candid, and ready to- help those who are in dis- 
 tress, the strange aspect of his deep-sunk, small and twinkling 
 eyes might have brought on him the imputation of concealed 
 malice and cunning. 
 
 Cardillac was not only, as above mentioned, the greatest 
 master of his art in all Paris, but, generally speaking, of 
 the era in which he lived. Intimately acquainted with the 
 
312 
 
 nature of precious stones, he knew how to treat them, and set 
 them off to such advantage, that an ornament which had be- 
 fore been looked upon as tarnished and useless, came out of 
 his workshop in dazzling lustre, and better than it had been 
 for many years before. Almost every commission that fell in 
 his way he undertook with the utmost ardor, and was con- 
 tented with a price, which seemed to bear no proportion to 
 the excellence of his workmanship, and the time that it had 
 cost. Night and day he was heard hammering in his work- 
 shop, and often when a ring or necklace was neatly completed, 
 he became suddenly discontented with the pattern, or doubtful 
 as to the finishing of some minute ornament — which was with 
 him quite a sufficient reason for throwing the whole into the 
 crucible, and beginning de novo. 
 
 Thus every one of his performances became a masterpiece 
 of art, by which the person who gave the commission was as- 
 tonished ; but it became at last almost impossible to get any 
 work out of his hands. Under a thousand pretexts, he used 
 to put off his customers from week to week, and from month 
 to month. In vain did people offer him double payment ; he 
 would not take a single louis d'or beyond the price for which 
 he had bargained. If at last obliged to yield to the urgency 
 of his employer, and give up the jewels, this he could not do 
 without betraying all symptoms of vexation, and even ungov- 
 ernable rage. Especially, for example, if he were called on 
 to render up some article of consequence which, on account 
 of the gold and diamonds, might be worth a thousand louis 
 d'ors, he was known frequently to run and stamp about the 
 streets, like a madman, cursing aloud, and denouncing him- 
 self, his trade, and all the world. At such times, however, 
 if it happened that a new customer plucked him by the sleeve, 
 and said, Rene Cardillac, will you not make up a beautiful 
 necklace for my bride, bracelets for my mistress, or so forth, 
 then he would turn briskly round, his small eyes twinkled, 
 and he would ask, " What have you got then ? " The cus- 
 tomer would perhaps pull out a little casket, and say, " Here 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 
 
 are jewels ; they are not worth much, perhaps — mere common 
 
 trumpery — but in your hands, Mons. 1' Artiste " Cardil- 
 
 lac, without letting him finish his speech, snatches the box, 
 takes out the jewels, which in reality perhaps are of little or 
 no value, holds them to the light, and exclaims with rapture, 
 ' ' Ho ! ho ! common trumpery do you say ? By no means ; 
 fine rubies — good emeralds ; only let me have them, and if 
 you do not mind a handful of louis d'ors, I shall add a few 
 brilliants to the rest, that will gleam like the very sun in 
 heaven! " The other of course answers, " Master Eene, I 
 leave all to your own discretion, and will pay whatever you 
 are pleased to demand." Without making any distinction 
 whether his customer be only a rich citizen, or a man of high 
 rank, Cardillac then embraces him with the utmost ardor, ex- 
 claiming that he is again quite happy, and that the work will 
 be finished in eight days. 
 
 After this, he runs headlong, as if possessed, towards hi3 
 own house, goes into his private study and sets to work, 
 hammering away, and, according to his promise, there is a 
 masterpiece of art completed in eight days. Yet, whenever 
 the bridegroom or lover, by whom that order had been given, 
 comes rejoicing, to pay the small sum that had been agreed 
 on, and take home the jewels, Cardillac becomes all at once 
 rude, obstinate, and is hardly on any terms to be spoken with. 
 " But, good master Bene," says the customer, " to-morrow is 
 
 my wedding-day, and " " What the devil do I care for 
 
 your wedding-day ? " says Cardillac, — " Call again in a fort- 
 night hence." " But the necklace is finished ; here is the 
 price agreed on, and I must have it ! " "And, I tell you," 
 says the goldsmith, " that I must yet alter many things in 
 this necklace, and that I shall by no means give it to you to-day. ' ' 
 ' ' And I tell you, ' ' thunders the other, that, if you will not readily, 
 and in good humor, give up the necklace, which is now ready, 
 and for which I am willing even to pay you double, I shall in 
 half an hour, bring Besgrais with a troop of gens d'armes, .to force 
 them out of your hands ! " " Well, may the devil himself, 
 21 
 
8M Hoffmann's strange storied. 
 
 and all his imps torment you with a thousand pairs of red- hot 
 pincers, and hang three hundred weight on your necklace, so 
 that your bride may be strangled ! With these, or such like 
 words, Cardillac eiams the ornament into the breast pocket of 
 his customer, seizes him by the arms, and turns him out of 
 doors with such violence, that he falls headlong down the 
 staircase. The goldsmith then runs to the window, and 
 laughs like a demon, when he sees how the poor devil of a 
 lover limps, with a bloody nose, and quite confounded, away 
 from the house. 
 
 Such conduct, indeed, durst not be repeated often ; but 
 adventures had several times occurred precisely such as we 
 have here described. It was, moreover, quite extraordinary 
 and inexplicable, how Cardillac, after he had undertaken a 
 work with enthusiasm, would, all of a sudden, change his 
 mind, and in the greatest agitation, and with moving en- 
 treaties, even sobs and tears, conjure his employer for the 
 love of the blessed Virgin, and all the saints, that he might 
 be released from the fulfilment of his task. 
 
 Notwithstanding the readiness with which he generally 
 took orders, there were several persons of the highest re- 
 spectability, both at Court and in the city, who had in vain 
 offered Cardillac large sums, in order to procure from him the 
 smallest piece of workmanship. As to the King, the gold- 
 smith threw himself at his Majesty's feet, and implored the 
 favor that he might be excused from working for him. In 
 like manner, he refused every commission from the Marchio- 
 ness de Maintenon ; nay, with an expression of aversion and 
 horror, rejected an order that she gave him, to make up a 
 small ring, with emblematic ornaments, which she wished to 
 have given as a present to Racine. 
 
 " 1 would lay any bet," said the Marchioness to de Scu- 
 deri, "that if I should send for Cardillac, to learn for whom 
 he made these ornaments, he would refuse to come, fearing 
 that I want to give him a commission, for he is firmly deter- 
 mined never to make anything for me ;- — and yet it has been 
 
OARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ■ 315 
 
 alleged, that his obstinacy has rather decreased of late — it is 
 said he labors more industriously than ever, and delivers his 
 work immediately, though not without making hideous faces, 
 and showing as much irritability as before." De Scuderi, 
 who was extremely anxious that the ornament should come 
 into the hands of the proper owner, thought it would only be 
 requisite to inform the strange professor of rings and bracelets, 
 that no task was required of him, farther than his valuation 
 of certain jewels. To this the Marchioness agreed ; Cardil- 
 lac was sent for, and, as if he had been already on the way, 
 but a short time elapsed when he made his appearance. 
 
 As soon as he perceived de Scuderi, he seemed like one 
 struck and confounded by some sudden impression ; and for- 
 getting for the moment the rules of good breeding, he made, 
 in the first place, a low obeisance to the poetess before he 
 took any notice of the noble lady of the mansion. The latter 
 then asked him, abruptly, whether the necklace (which lay 
 glittering on the green cover of the card table,) was of his 
 workmanshp ? Cardillac scarcely deigned to cast a single 
 glance at the jewels, but, keeping his eyes fixed on the Mar- 
 chioness, packed both necklace and bracelets hastily into the 
 box, — and pushed it hastily aside ; then, with a ghastly grin 
 on his visage, he said, " In truth, my lady Marchioness, one 
 must have little experience in jewels, who believes even for a 
 moment that these could have come from the hands of any other 
 goldsmith in the world but Rene Cardillac. In short, they 
 are my workmanship. " This is absolutely inexplicable,' ' said 
 the Marchioness. " For whom were these ornaments made? ,, 
 t; For myself alone,' ' answered Cardillac ; but perceiving that 
 his auditors listened to him with distrust and suspicion, — 
 "Aye," said he, " your ladyship may think this very strange, 
 but the fact is just what I have stated. Merely for the sake 
 of exemplifying a fine pattern in jewelry, I collected my best 
 stones together, and worked for my own pleasure, more in- 
 dustriously and carefully than I had ever done for other peo- 
 ple. Not long ago the jewels which I had made up in this 
 
31G Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 manner, vanished inconceivably out of my workshop." — 
 " Then, thank heaven ! " said de Scuderi, " my troubles are 
 at an end, and Master Rene, you will receive back from my 
 hands the property of which you had been robbed by these 
 unknown miscreants." 
 
 She then repeated the circumstances under which the box 
 had come into her possession, to all which Cardillac listened 
 with his eyes fixed on the ground, and without making any 
 answer, only now and then he exhibited strange gestures, 
 uttering also divers interjections. "Ho — ho! — aye — aye! 
 and, so — so ! " — but when de Scuderi had ended, it seemed 
 as if he were struggling vehemently with some new fantasies, 
 which had risen upon him in the course of the narrative, and 
 which held him in a state of suspense and irresolution. He 
 rubbed his forehead, and sighed deeply, — drew his hand over 
 his eyes as if he wept, — at length took the box which de Scu- 
 deri held out to him,*— slowly and solemnly knelt before her, 
 and said, " To you, noble lady, destiny has assigned these 
 jewels. Moreover, I recollect now, for the first time, that 
 when I was employed on them, I thought of you — nay, that I 
 was absolutely working, not for myself alone, as I said before, 
 but for your sake. Do not disdain then to receive from me, 
 and to wear this ornament, — which is, in truth, the best that 
 for a long time I have been able to finish." 
 
 "Eh bien! " answered de Scuderi, " what are you think- 
 ing of, Master Rene ? — Would it become one at my time of 
 life, to trick herself out with diamonds and emeralds like 
 these ? And for what reason would you bestow gifts so lav- 
 ishly upon me? — If I were handsome and -young like the 
 Marchioness de Fontanges, and rich to boot, I should cer- 
 tainly not let such ornaments out of my hands. But of what 
 use would bracelets be to these withered arms, and why 
 should I wear a necklace, when my neck is never uncovered ? " 
 Cardillac, while she spoke thus, had risen from his kneeling 
 posture, and with wild looks, as if half distracted, still hold- 
 ing the box to Mademoiselle de Scuderi, he said, " Have 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. . 317 
 
 compassion on me, lady ! Do me this one favor, and accept 
 of the jewels. You have yet no idea how deep is the venera- 
 tion which I entertain for your virtue and talents. Take, I 
 implore of you, my trifling present, only as an humble token 
 of my sincere respect and devotion ! " 
 
 As de Scuderi would on no account touch the box, de 
 Maintenon at last took it out of Cardillac's hands. " Nay, 
 Mademoiselle/' said she "you speak always of your adva? 
 age ; but what have you and I to do with years, if our SJ 
 ders are yet unbent by their load ? Are you not now 
 acting like a young coquette, who would willingly 
 durst, seize on the forbidden fruit, provided it could I 
 without hands and fingers ? Do not refuse to accept from 
 good Master Rene, as a free gift, that which others would 
 gladly possess, and yet cannot obtain, even by the highest 
 offers in money, as well as earnest prayers and en treaties.' ' 
 De Maintenon had, with these words, forced the casket on de 
 Scuderi, and now Cardillac again fell on his knees, kissed her 
 hands, the hem of her garment, sighed, groaned, wept, sob- 
 bed, — started up, and finally overturned chairs and tables, so 
 that glasses and china were broken into shivers, he ran head- 
 long out of the house. 
 
 De Scuderi was now quite terrified. " For the love of 
 heaven," said she, "what is the matter with the man?" 
 "Tell me then," said de Maintenon, " for whom was it that 
 you made up in a very lively humor, approaching to a vein of 
 irony, which her character seldom exhibited. She laughed 
 aloud, and said, " Now we have it, Mademoiselle ! Master 
 Rene Cardillac has fallen desperately in love with you, and, 
 according to established form and usage, begins his attack 
 upon your heart with a storm of rich presents." De Mainte- 
 non persisted in her raillery, till at length the gravity of her. 
 guest was overcome. She admonished de Scuderi not to be 
 too cruel to her despairing lover ; and the poetess, giving the 
 reins to her native humor, was at length led into the same 
 strain of badinage. She allowed, that if the siege were really 
 27* 
 
S18 Hoffmann's strange stoiues. 
 
 to be carried on in this vehement manner, she could not 
 escape being at last conquered, and affording to the world the 
 extraordinary or unique example, of a goldsmith's bride, sev- 
 enty-three years old, and of untarnished nobility. De Main- 
 tenon offered herself as bridesmaid, also to instruct her friend 
 in the duties of good housewifery, which it was impossible 
 that such un petit enfant of a girl could possibly know much 
 
 it. 
 
 \t last, when de Scuderi rose to take leave, (notwithstand- 
 all these jokes,) she became once more very grave, and 
 ated, wtten de Maintenon placed the jewel-box in her 
 hands. " My lady Marchioness/' said she, " I shall never 
 be able to make any use of these ornaments. At one time 
 or another, in whatever way it may have happened, they have 
 been in the possession of that accursed band of outlaws, who, 
 with the insolent assurance of the very devil himself, if not 
 actually in league with him, commit robbery and murder in 
 every street of the <Ay. I cannot look on these glittering 
 diamonds, without seeming to behold at the same time, the 
 bleeding spectral form of the poor victim from whom they 
 have been taken ; for as to Cardillae's story, I place no reli- 
 ance whatever upon his words, and in his behavior throughout, 
 there appears to me somewhat frightful and mysterious. No 
 doubt there are insurmountable difficulties in my way, if I 
 should accuse master Rene of any share in the crimes by 
 which every one i« now so much alarmed ; since he has always 
 been considered as the very model of an honest, conscientious, 
 though half crazy citizen ; but I cannot conquer the appre- 
 hension, that, behind all his eccentricity, real or pretended, 
 there lurks some horrid mystery. At all events, I shall cer- 
 tainly never wear the jewels." The Marchioness insisted 
 that this was carrying scruples too far ; but when de Scuderi 
 begged of her seriously, and on her word of honor, to say how 
 she would act in the same situation, de Maintenon answered 
 firmly, and resolutely, that she would far rather throw the or- 
 naments into the Seine than ever wear them. 
 
CARDILL.YC, THE JEWELLER. ' 319 
 
 Afterwards, as Scuderi, who, notwithstanding the time that 
 she bestowed on her long romances, had a propensity to make 
 rhymes on every chance occurrence of the day, turned the 
 whole adventure, with the goldsmith, into very good mock 
 heroics, which, on the following evening, she read over to the 
 lung at the chambers of de Maintenon. As might be sup- 
 posed, she contrived, at Cardillac's expense, such a ridiculous 
 picture of the goldsmith and his noble bride, aged seventy- 
 three, that every one was highly diverted ; — suffice it, that 
 the king laughed with all his might, and swore that Boileau 
 himself had met with a rival, on which account de Scuderi's 
 poem was, of course, set down as the wittiest that had ever 
 appeared in the world. So the matter seemed at an end and 
 was forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Several months had passed away, when it chanced that 
 de Scuderi was one day driving along the Pont Neuf, in the 
 glass-coach of the Duchess de Montausier. At this time, the 
 invention of coaches with glass-windows was so new, that a 
 crowd always collected when an equipage of that kind passed 
 along the streets. So it happened in the present instance, 
 that the gaping populace surrounded de Montausier's coach 
 in such manner, that the horses could hardly get forward. — 
 Suddenly, de Scuderi heard a great uproar on the bridge, and 
 perceived a young man, who, by the dint of thrusts and fisty- 
 cuffs, was making his way forcibly through the crowd. On 
 his approach nearer, she was painfully struck by the deadly pale 
 countenance of the youth, whose features, though naturally 
 fine, were now distorted by grief and anxiety. His eyes 
 were constantly fixed on her during the whole tumult, while, 
 with continued violence, he cleared the way before him, till 
 at length he arrived at the door of the carriage, which, the 
 glass being drawn up, he impetuously forced open ; then 
 
320 Hoffmann's strange stoiues. 
 
 threw a billet into the lap of de Scuderi, arid again de; 
 mt, and receiving curses and blows on all sides, he vanif 
 .ghting his way as he had come. 
 
 It should have been already noticed, however, that as soon 
 as the man had reached the coach-door, Martiniere, the wait- 
 ing-maid, who was now in attendance on her mistress, fell back 
 with a scream of terror, and hid her face on the cushion. — 
 In vain did the lady de Scuderi pull the cord, and call to the 
 coachman to stop. As if possessed by the devil, he lashed 
 away at his horses, who foamed and snorted, reared and were 
 restive, but, at last, in a brisk trot, thundered away across 
 the bridge. De Scuderi emptied a whole bottle of eau de 
 Cologne over the forehead and temples of the fainting abigail. 
 who at last opened her eyes, though trembling in every limb, 
 and almost convulsively clung to her mistress. " The saints 
 protect us," said she at last ; — " what did the frightful man 
 want ? — Good heaven ! It was he — it was the very same 
 youth who came to us at midnight, terrified us out of our senses, 
 and left the mysterious casket ! ' ' De Scuderi tried to pacify 
 the poor girl, representing to her, that absolutely no mischief 
 had been done ; and that the only point in question, at pres- 
 ent, was to know what the billet contained. Accordingly, 
 she unfolded the paper, and read these words : 
 
 " An evil destiny which you might avert, threatened to 
 plunge me into the very abyss of destruction. I conjure you, 
 even as a son would respectfully implore of a mother, that 
 you will give back the necklace and bracelets which you re- 
 ceived from me, to the goldsmith Kene Cardillac. Let 
 this be done under any pretext ; but it may be best to say 
 to him that some alteration is required in the arrangement 
 of the jewels. Your own welfare — nay, your life depends 
 upon this, and if you do not act according to my advice be- 
 fore the day after to-morrow, I shall force my way into your 
 house ; and, in my despair, will put myself to death in your 
 sight,' ' • 
 
 " Now, it is certain," said de Scuderi, when she had read 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 321 
 
 the note, " that if this person really belongs to the noted 
 band of thieves and murderers, yet his intentions towards me 
 at least arc not evil. If he had only succeeded in speaking 
 with me that night, who knows what strange mysteries might 
 have been brought to light, as to which I cannot now form 
 even the remotest guess ; but whatever the truth may be, I 
 shall certainly do what is required of me in this letter, were 
 it for no other reason than to get rid of these abominable 
 jewels, which appear to me like an absolute talisman of the 
 devil, but which Cardillac, if we may judge by his past con- 
 duct, will not so easily let out of his possession, if he once 
 gets them into his hands again." 
 
 On the very next day, de Scuderi intended to go with the 
 necklace and bracelets to the goldsmith's house ; but it seemed 
 that morning as if all the beaux esprits in Paris had con- 
 spired to attack the lady with an absolute storm of verses, 
 plays, and romances. Scarcely had la Chapelle finished read- 
 ing a scene from one of his new tragedies, by which he hoped 
 to beat Racine completely off the field, when the latter 
 himself entered, and with a long pathetic speech from M Phe- 
 dra," completely knocked his antagonist to the ground. Then 
 Boileau was obliged to come forward, and cast some of his 
 brilliant rays of wit and humor through the gloom of this 
 tragic atmosphere — in order that he himself might not be 
 tired to death by a discussion of architecture, and the colon- 
 nades of the Louvre, into which he had been forced by Dr. 
 Perreault At length it was past mid-day, and de Scuderi 
 was forced to go to the Duchess de Montausier. Thus her 
 visit to Cardillac was unavoidably put off to the following 
 day ; but meanwhile she suffered extraordinary disquietude of 
 mind. The figure of the strange young man was constantly 
 before her ; it seemed that she had long ere now been ac- 
 quainted with the features, though she could not tell how nor 
 where ; and yet these dim recollections appeared always ready 
 to start forward into strength and reality. Her sleep, too, was 
 disturbed by frightful dreams. She saw the unhappy man 
 
322 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 clinging to the brink of a frightful precipice, or struggling in 
 dark stormy waters, whence he stretched up his hands implor- 
 ing her compassion. She thought, even, that it might per- 
 haps have been in her power to prevent some enormous crime, 
 of which the plot would have been revealed, if she had heard 
 his confessions. Therefore, as soon as the morning broke, she 
 summoned Martiniere, made her toilette in haste, and, pro- 
 vided with the casket of jewels, drove away to the house of 
 the goldsmith. 
 
 On arriving in the Rue de la Nicase, near Cardillac's 
 habitation, she was astonished to find the street crowded with 
 people, all pressing forward with one intent to the same place, 
 among whom, men, women, and children, shouted, screamed, 
 and raged, as if determined to force their way, and with dif- 
 ficulty held back by the gens d'armes, who now surrounded 
 the house. In this unaccountable hubbub, voices were heard 
 calling aloud — " Tear him in pieces ! — tear him limb from 
 limb, the accursed treacherous murderer ! " At length Des- 
 grais made his appearance with a numerous posse, and forced 
 a passage through the thick of the multitude. Then, after 
 some interval the house-door breaks open, the figure of a man 
 loaded with chains is brought out, and dragged away, followed 
 by frightful execrations from the raging mob. 
 
 At the same moment when de Scuderi, almost overcome 
 with terror and dark apprehensions, perceived this event, a 
 shrill cry of distress struck on his ears. "Drive on — drive 
 on ! " cried she to the coachman, who, with a quick and 
 clever turn of his horses, contrived to divide the thick mass 
 of people, and to stop right before the door of Cardillac. 
 There, on the threshold, she finds Desgrais, and at his feet a 
 young girl of extraordinary beauty — with her dress in disor- 
 der, her hair dishevelled, and the wildness of despair in her 
 countenance. She clings to the police-officer's knees, and, in 
 a tone of the most heart-rending anguish, exclaims, "he is 
 innocent-— he is innocent ! " In vain he and her attendants 
 try to stop her cries and raise her from the ground. A 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 323 
 
 strong uncouth fellow at last laid hold of her arms, violently 
 forcing her away from Desgrais ; stumbling awkwardly, and 
 let the poor girl fall, who, without uttering another word, was 
 precipitated down the stone steps of the staircase, till she lay 
 as if dead on the street. De Scuderi could no longer remain 
 silent. " In God's name," cried she, " what is the matter ? — - 
 what is the cause of all this?" With her own hands she 
 hastily opened the carriage-door, threw down the steps and 
 alighted. Accordingly the people, with great respect, made 
 room for the venerable lady, who, perceiving that some kind 
 hearted bourgeoises had lifted up the unhappy girl and were 
 rubbing her temples with eau de Cologne, turned to Desgrais, 
 and with passionate eagerness, repeated her questions. — 
 "Madame," answered the officer, "we have this morning 
 discovered the most horrible crime which has been committed 
 for many weeks. That worthy citizen, Bene Cardillac, has 
 been found murdered, having been stabbed to the heart with 
 a dagger ; we have proved that his journeyman, Olivier Brus- 
 son, is the murderer, and he has just now been led away to 
 prison." 
 
 "But the young beautiful girl?" said de Scuderi, in a 
 tone of anxious inquiry. " The girl," answered Desgrais, 
 "is Madelon, the daughter of Cardillac, and the murderer 
 was her accepted lover. Now, she has been weeping and 
 howling for an hour past, that Olivier is innocent ; quite in- 
 nocent. Doubtless, however, she is an accomplice in this 
 deed, and perhaps in many others ; but we shall have her im- 
 mediately carried to the Con ciergerie." In speaking these 
 words Desgrais cast such an ironical and malicious glance on 
 the poor Madelon, that de Scuderi involuntarily trembled at 
 his aspect. Just then his unfortunate victim began to breathe 
 perceptibly ; but she lay with her eyes closed, and incapable 
 of speech or motion ; so that the people were perplexed, and 
 knew not whether to carry her into the house, or keep her 
 where she lay, until, by farther assistance, she was restored to 
 her senses. Much agitated, and with her eyes swimming in 
 
324 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 tears, de Scuderi looked at the angelic countenance of the 
 unfortunate girl, and her heart recoiled in horror from Des- 
 grais and his associates. In a few moments after there was 
 heard a sound of slow heavy steps on the staircase ; the 
 police-officers were bearing away the dead body of Cardillac, 
 and de Scuderi, knowing that opportunity for interference 
 would soon be lost, now came to a sudden determination. "I 
 shall take the young woman home to my house," said she, 
 " for she is now ill, and requires kindness and support after 
 the distress that she has undergone. Her guilt remains to 
 be proved, and I shall answer for her appearance when ne- 
 cessary ; for the rest, you, Desgrais, will not fail to do your 
 duty." These words being heard, a murmur of applause ran 
 through the multitude. The women who stood nearest lifted 
 up Madelon, and immediately hundreds of people thronged 
 to the spot, wishing to render assistance, so that, as if floating 
 in the air, the girl was borne along, and safely placed in the 
 carriage. Meanwhile blessings were poured forth from the 
 lips of all present on the venerable and dignified lady, who 
 had thus rescued innocence from the fangs of the executioners. 
 
 By the kind attentions of Serons, the most celebrated 
 physician in Paris, Madelon, who had long remained in a 
 state of unconsciousness, was perfectly restored to recollection. 
 De Scuderi herself completed what the physician had begun, 
 endeavoring by all her arts of eloquence to kindle up rays of 
 hope in the dark mind of her protege ; till at last the poor 
 sufferer was relieved by a violent burst of tears, and she was 
 enabled, though her voice was often choked by sobs, to relate 
 in her own way, all that had occurred. 
 
 About midnight, she had been awoke by knocking at the 
 door of her bedroom, and had heard tho voice of Olivier 
 Brusson, conjuring her to rise up immediately, for her father 
 was dying. In great agitation she had started up, and opened 
 the door, when she found Olivier waiting for her ; but his 
 features were pale and disfigured ; the perspiration was drop- 
 ping from his forehead, and his limbs tottered so that he could 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ■ 325 
 
 hardly support himself. He led the way to her father's work- 
 room, whither she followed him. and where she found Cardillac 
 lying with his eyes fixed and staring ; for he was already in 
 the agony of death. With a loud shriek, she had thrown her- 
 self down by her father, and then, for the first time, remarked 
 that his clothes were drenched in blood. Brusson drew her 
 gently away, and then began, as well as he could, to wash 
 with astringent balsam a frightful wound in Cardillac's left 
 side, and to bind it up. During this operation, the unfortu- 
 nate man was restored to consciousness ; he breathed more 
 freely, and had looked up expressively at her and Olivier. 
 Finally, he had taken her hand, placed in it that of the young 
 man, and frequently pressed them together. Both then fell 
 on their knees beside the dying man, expecting that he was 
 to give them his blessing; but, with a cry of anguish, he 
 raised himself up on his couch, immediately fell back again, 
 and uttering a long deep groan, he expired. 
 
 Now they had both given way to tears and lamentations. — 
 Olivier, however, found words to inform her, that he had been 
 ordered by his master to attend him about midnight, — that 
 they had gone out together, and, that Cardillac had, in his 
 presence, been attacked and stabbed by an assassin. Hoping 
 that the wound was not mortal, he had, with excessive labor 
 and exertion, taken the poor man on his shoulders, and carried 
 him home. 
 
 As soon as the morning broke, the people of the house, 
 who had been disturbed by the noise of weeping and lamen- 
 tation through the night, came up to their room, and found 
 them still disconsolate, kneeling in prayer beside the dead 
 body. Now the alarm was given ; the Marechaussee broke 
 into the house, and dragged off Olivier to prison, as the mur- 
 derer of his master. To all this, Madelon now added the 
 most moving description, how piously and faithfully he had 
 always conducted himself, affirming that he had always shown 
 towards Cardillac the respect and obedience of a son towards 
 a father, and that the latter had fully appreciated his worth, 
 28 
 
^26 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 having chosen him, notwithstanding his poverty, for his son- 
 in-law, and having proved that his cleverness as an artist, was 
 only to be excelled by his steadiness, and excellent disposition. 
 Every word uttered by Madelon seemed to bear the stamp of 
 truth, and to be spoken from the heart. She concluded by 
 declaring that if she had even beheld Olivier, in.her own pres- 
 ence, inflict the death-wound on her father, she would rather 
 have held this for a delusion of the devil, than have believed 
 that her lover could have been guilty of such a horrible crime. 
 
 De Scuderi, deeply moved by the sufferings of Madelon, 
 and now fully disposed to look on her lover as innocent, made 
 farther inquiries, and found every thing confirmed that the 
 poor girl had said, as to the domestic circumstances of the 
 master and his journeyman. The people of the house, and in 
 the neighborhood, universally praised Olivier as a model of 
 regularity, devotion and industry. No one among them knew 
 any evil action of which he had ever been guilty, and yet, 
 when conversation turned on the murder, all shrugged their 
 shoulders,— thought there was something here quite inconceiv- 
 able and mysterious, so that it was impossible to say what 
 conclusion should be drawn. Meanwhile, Olivier, when 
 brought before the judges of the Chambre Ardcnte, denied, 
 as Scuderi was informed, all participation in the deed. In 
 this he persisted with the utmost constancy, and without any 
 symptoms of embarrassment, affirming that his master had, in 
 his presence, been attacked and knocked down, after which he 
 had brought him home, where, being severely wounded, he had 
 shortly afterwards expired. All this accorded precisely with 
 the narrative of Madelon. 
 
 De Scuderi left no method untried, to obtain the most cor- 
 rect information. She inquired minutely whether there had 
 lately been a quarrel between the master and his journeyman ; 
 — whether Olivier, though generally good-tempered, had not 
 been subject to fits of passion, — that often mislead people 
 into crimes, from which they would otherwise have recoiled 
 with horror ? But there was so much of the heartfelt inspi- 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ■ 327 
 
 ration of truth in Madelon's account of the quiet domestic 
 happiness in which they all three lived together, that at length 
 every shadow of suspicion against Brusson vanished wholly 
 from her mind. Indeed, setting aside all the circumstances 
 which so decidedly pleaded his innocence, de Scuderi was un- 
 able to discover any motive on his part for such a deed. On 
 the contrary, it could, in every point of view, only tend to 
 his own destruction, and the overthrow of his worldly hopes. 
 " He is poor," reasoned de Scuderi, " but clever as an artist ; 
 he succeeds in acquiring the confidence of the most eminent 
 jeweller in Paris ; — falls in love with the only daughter of his 
 master, who approves of their attachment ; thus happiness 
 and prosperity seem to be secured to him for his whole life to 
 come. But, notwithstanding all this, supposing that Olivier 
 had been overpowered by sudden passion, and excited to such 
 madness as to make an attack on his benefactor, yet what 
 supernatural hypocrisy he must profess, in order to manage 
 the atrocious deed in such a manner, and pretend to be so 
 much afilicted? " In short, with an almost perfect conviction 
 of his innocence, de Scuderi formed the determination, to res- 
 cue the unfortunate young man, whatever trouble and exertion 
 this might cost. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Before applying to the king, which was indeed the dernier 
 resort, she resolved, in the first place, to have some private 
 conversation with the President la Regnie, to request his 
 attention to all the circumstances which pleaded in favor of 
 the young man, and thus awaken in the president's mind an 
 interest in the fate of the accused, which, without infringing 
 the strictness of legal and official duty, he might benevolently 
 impart to the other judges. La Regnie, of course, received 
 de Scuderi with the highest respect, to which the venerable 
 lady, whom the king himself always addressed with deference, 
 was so justly entitled. He listened quietly to all that she 
 
328 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 had to say of the domestic circumstances of Olivier and his 
 excellent character ; but to this she did not obtain one favor- 
 able word, or even interjection, in return. A slight and 
 almost scornful smile, now and then threatening to change 
 into a grin, was the only proof afforded by la Regnie, that 
 the assertions, the earnest admonitions of de Scuderi did not 
 fall on ears altogether deaf and inattentive. She insisted 
 that every righteous judge must beware of being an enemy of 
 the prisoner; on the contrary, he must give his attention even 
 to the minutest particle of evidence that could be looked upon 
 as exculpatory. At last, when the lady had exhausted all 
 her arguments, and, with her handkerchief at her eyes, re- 
 mained silent, la Regnie began : — " Doubtless, my lady, it is 
 an admirable proof of your benevolence of heart, that you 
 should have been thus moved by the tears and protestations 
 of a young girl who is in love, and that you should have 
 even believed all that she has asserted. Nay, it is hardly to 
 be expected that a mind so constituted as yours should con- 
 ceive the existence of a crime so horrible. But it is quite dif- 
 ferent with one who, in order to fulfil his painful duties as a 
 judge, is obliged to tear off the mask from the basest cunning 
 and hypocrisy. At the same time, you, my lady, must cer- 
 tainly perceive that it is no part of my business, nor even 
 consistent with my duty, to develope and reveal to every one 
 the manner in which a criminal process is carried through and 
 decided. I fulfil my duty, and, being conscious of this, I 
 am, as to the opinion of the world, wholly indifferent. It is 
 absolutely requisite that the abandoned criminals, by whom 
 we are now-a-days beset and tormented, should be made to 
 tremble before the court of the Chambre Ardente, whose 
 punishments are never mitigated, but consist only of death by 
 the scaffold or by fire. In your presence, however, Madem- 
 oiselle, I would not willingly appear a monster of harshness 
 and cruelty. Therefore, allow me. in as few words as possi- 
 ble, to place clearly and unequivocally before you the guilt 
 of this young miscreant, on whom, God be thanked, the 
 
CARDILLAC, TIIE JEWELLER. ' 320 
 
 sword of just vengeance is about to fall. When you have 
 heard my account of the evidence, your powerful understand- 
 ing will then lead you to contemn that kind-hearted credulity 
 which, though it may be praiseworthy in the lady de Scuderi, 
 would, on my part as a judge, be wholly unbecoming, and, 
 indeed, unpardonable. 
 
 " So, then, to commence : Rene Cardillac is one morning 
 found murdered ; as usual, in such cases, he has been stabbed 
 to the heart with a stiletto. No one is beside him but his ap- 
 prentice, Olivier Brusson, and his daughter. In the bed- 
 chamber of Brusson, amongst other effects that were examined, 
 is found a dagger covered with blood, still fresh, and which, 
 on being tried, fits exactly into the wound." u Cardillac," 
 says the young man, " was, in my presence, attacked and 
 knocked down on the streets at midnight." " The villains 
 then wished to rob him?" "That," says he, "I cannot 
 tell." "But you were walking with him, and was it not 
 possible for you to lay hold of the murderers, and call for 
 help ? " " My master," he answers, " was fifteen or twenty 
 steps before me, and I followed him." " Wherefore, in the 
 name of wonder, were you at such a distance ? " "My mas- 
 ter would have it so." " But what, in all the world, could 
 the goldsmith, Cardillac, have to do at such an hour on the 
 street?" "That again," answers he, "I cannot answer." 
 " But, till now," says the Chambre Ardente, " he was never 
 known to leave his own house after nine o'clock in the even- 
 ing." At this remark, Olivier, instead of returning any 
 direct answer, falters, grows confused, bursts into tears, then 
 swears over again that Cardillac had actually gone out of his 
 house on the night referred to, and had, consequently, been 
 put to death. 
 
 " But your ladyship will please to observe, with attention, 
 what now follows : It has been proved, even to an absolute 
 certainty, that Cardillac did not, on that evening, leave his 
 own house, and, of course, Olivier 's story of the midnight 
 walk is an infamous fabrication. The house-door is provided 
 28* 
 
330 Hoffmann's strange stomes. 
 
 with a large and heavy lock, which, on opening and shutting, 
 makes a loud grating noise. Then, too, the door itself creaks 
 violently on its hinges, so that by the trials that have been 
 made, we know that, from the garret to the cellar, it disturbs all 
 the inhabitants. Besides, on the ground-floor of this build- 
 ing, and therefore, quite close to the outward door, lives an 
 old gentleman, Monsieur Claude Patru, now in his eightieth 
 year, but still in possession of all his faculties ; and this old 
 man is attended by a female servant. These people heard 
 Rene Cardillac, on the night of the murder, come down 
 Btairs exactly at nine o'clock ; close and bolt the outward 
 gate with great noise ; then return up stairs, read aloud a 
 portion of the evening service ; and at last retire to his bed- 
 room, of which also, they heard him close the door with vehe- 
 mence. This Monsieur Claude Patru, as it often happens to 
 old persons, could hardly ever sleep, and, through this night 
 particularly, he had not been able to close his eyes. Accord- 
 ingly, the old woman who attends him, went, as she depones, 
 about half-past ten o'clock, into the kitchen for light, trimmed 
 the lamp, and replenished it with oil, then seated herself at a 
 table beside Monsieur Patru, with a favorite book, which she 
 read aloud, while the old gentleman, following out his own 
 reveries, now seated himself in his arm-chair, now rose up 
 and walked about, all for the sake of becoming wearied, and 
 obtaining sleep. 
 
 " The whole house remained tranquil until after midnight. 
 Then the woman suddenly heard heavy steps over her head, 
 and a noise as if of some great weight falling to the ground. 
 Immediately thereafter, she heard also hollow groans, and her 
 old master became like herself alarmed and anxious. A mys- 
 terious foreboding of some horrid event passed through their 
 minds, and the discovery of the morning proved that their 
 suspicions were but too well grounded." " But," interrupted 
 de Scuderi, "could you, from all the circumstances which 
 have been stated on either side, find out any adequate motive 
 for Olivier Brusson committing such an atrocious and nnparal- 
 
CAUMLLAC, THE JEWELLER. SSI 
 
 leled crime? " " Humph !" answered la Regnie, with another 
 ironical smile, " Cardillac was not poor ; he was in the pos- 
 session of admirable diamonds ! " " Yet," said de Scuderi, 
 1 ' was not his daughter heiress of all that property ? You 
 forget that Olivier was to have been son-in-law to the gold- 
 smith ? " " That is no decisive proof," answered la Regnie ; 
 " we are not obliged to admit that Brusson committed the 
 crime solely on his own account, though no doubt admitted to 
 his share." " What means this talk of sharing and agency? " 
 said de Scuderi. " Your ladyship will please to observe," 
 answered la Regnie, "that Brusson would, long ere now, 
 have been led to the scaffold, were it not that he is obviously 
 connected with that horrid conspiracy, which has hitherto 
 baffled our inquiries, and kept all Paris in suspense and agi- 
 tation. It is suspected, indeed known, that this miscreant 
 belonged to that band of robbers who have held in scorn and 
 mockery all measures taken against them by the ministers of 
 justice, and have continued to carry on their enormities 
 securely and without punishment. Through his confessions, 
 however, which we shall in due time extort, that mystery will 
 no doubt be rendered clear. I should have observed, that 
 Cardillac's wound is precisely similar to those which have 
 been examined on the dead bodies of other victims, who were 
 found murdered in the streets and courts, or corridors of 
 houses. But the circumstance which we consider as of all the 
 most decisive is, that, since Brusson's arrestment, these rob- 
 beries and murders, which before happened almost every night, 
 have entirely ceased, and one may now walk on the streets 
 just as securely by night as by day. This alone affords suf- 
 ficient presumptive proof, that Olivier must have been at the 
 head of these assassins, and though, to this hour, he has per- 
 sisted in asserting his innocence, yet we have means enough 
 of forcing him to confess, however great his obstinacy may 
 be." 
 
 "But then, as to Madelon," said de Scuderi, "the poor 
 innocent girl!" "Ha, ha!" answered la Regnie, "who 
 
r6£ HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 can give sufficient assurance that she has not been an accom- 
 plice ? What does she care for her father's death ? It is 
 only for the murderer's sake that her tears flow so freely." — 
 " What do you say?" cried de Scuderi, " it is impossible. 
 Would this poor blameless child aim against her father's 
 life?" " Oh, ho !" said Regnie, shrugging his shoulders, 
 "your ladyship seems to have forgotten the conduct of la 
 Brinvilliers. You will be so good as to forgive me, if I find 
 myself, ere long, necessitated to drag this favorite from your 
 protecting arms, and to lodge her in the Conciergerie." 
 
 At this horrible suggestion, a cold shuddering pervaded 
 the whole frame of the kind-hearted de Scuderi. It seemed 
 to her as if, in the presence of this abominable man, all truth 
 and virtue were annihilated ; that in every heart he could 
 find out concealed propensities to the most diabolical crimes. 
 "At all events, do not forget that even a judge ought to be 
 humane ! " said she, and these words were all that, with a 
 faltering and suppressed voice, she was able to bring out. — 
 When just on the point of descending the staircase to which 
 the president, with ceremonious politeness, accompanied her, 
 a sudden thought rose in her mind. "Would it be granted 
 me," said she, " to speak with the unhappy youth in prison?" 
 The president hearing this abrupt question, looked at her 
 with an air of doubt and reflection ; then his visage twisted 
 itself into an ironical smile, which was to him quite peculiar. 
 "Certainly," answered he, "this may be allowed. I per- 
 ceive, my lady, that you are yet more inclined to trust to your 
 own benevolent impulses, than to any legal proofs ; and as 
 you wish to try Brusson after your own manner, within two 
 hours hence, the gates of the Conciergerie shall be opened, 
 and this criminal ordered to attend you. Think, however, 
 whether it will not be too abhorrent to your feelings to enter 
 these dark abodes of profligacy and punishment, where you 
 may encounter vice in its varied stages of suffering and de- 
 gradation." 
 
 In truth, however, de Scuderi would by no means be con- 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 
 
 vinced of the young man's guilt. Many evidences had doubt- 
 less been brought forward against him ; and after such appar- 
 ent proofs, perhaps no judge in the world could have acted 
 otherwise than la Regnie had done. But then, the innocent 
 looks and grief of Madelon, with the picture she had drawn 
 of domestic happiness, acted as a complete counterbalance to 
 every evil suspicion, and de Scuderi would rather admit the 
 existence of some inexplicable and even supernatural mystery, 
 than believe that at which her inmost heart revolted. She 
 now determined, therefore, that she would make Olivier relate 
 over again all that had happened on that fatal night ; to 
 watch whether his account corresponded exactly to that of 
 Madelon, and, as far as possible, to reconcile those difficulties 
 with which the judges would perhaps give themselves no 
 farther trouble, as they considered the prisoner's guilt so clearly 
 established. 
 
 On arriving at the Conciergerie, de Scuderi was conducted 
 into a large and well lighted chamber, where the rattling of 
 chains soon announced Brusson' s approach ; but no sooner 
 had he crossed the threshold, than, to the astonishment of the 
 attendants, de Scuderi trembled, grew deadly pale, and with- 
 out uttering a word, sank fainting into a chair. When she 
 recovered, the prisoner was no longer in the room, and she 
 demanded impatiently that she should be led back to her car- 
 riage. She was determined not to remain another moment in 
 this abode of crime and misery, for, alas ! she had recognized 
 in Brusson, at the very first glance, the young man who had 
 thrown the billet into her carriage on the Pont Ncuf, and 
 who, (according to Martiniere's evidence,) had brought her 
 the casket with the jewels. La Regnie's horrid suggestions 
 were therefore too surely confirmed, and as Brusson belonged 
 evidently to that band of midnight assassins, there could be 
 little or no doubt that he was the murderer of his master.— 
 But still, the beauty, youth, and apparent innocence of Mad- 
 elon ? Never having been till now so bitterly deceived by 
 her own benevolent impulses, and forced to admit the existence 
 
334 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 of guilt, which she would before have thought impossible, she 
 was reduced almost to utter despair, and it seemed to her, as 
 if there were no longer any truth and virtue in the world ! — 
 As it usually happens that a powerful and active mind, if it 
 once takes up an image or impression, always seeks and finds 
 means to color it more forcibly and vividly, de Scuderi, when 
 she reflected once more on the murder, and on every circum- 
 stance of Madelon's narrative, found much that tended to 
 nourish her evil suspicions, till even these very points of evi- 
 dence, which she had before received as proofs of the poor 
 girl's innocence and purity, now seemed only manifestations 
 of the basest hypocrisy and deception. That heart-rending 
 grief, and those floods of tears, so piteous to hear and look 
 upon, might have been extorted merely by the terror of see- 
 ing her lover bleed on the scaffold, or, indeed, of falling her- 
 self a victim to the same punishment. She determined at last 
 that she should shake off at once and forever, the vile serpent 
 whom she had intended so rashly to cherish in her bosom, and 
 with this fixed resolution, she alighted from her carriage, on 
 her return from la Regnie. 
 
 When she entered her own apartment Madelon w r as there, 
 anxiously awaiting her arrival. She threw herself at the feet 
 of her benefactress, and with uplifted eyes, and clasped hands, 
 looking as innocent as an angel from heaven, she exclaimed in 
 the most heart-rending tone, "Dearest lady! Oh, say that 
 you have brought me hope and consolation ! " De Scuderi, 
 not without great effort, regaining self-possession, and endeav- 
 oring to give her voice as much gravity and calmness as possi- 
 ble, answered, " Go, go ! Console yourself as well as you 
 can for the fete of the murderer, whom a just punishment 
 now awaits for the deeds of which he has been convicted. — 
 God grant that the guilt of some such assassination may not 
 also weigh on your conscience ! " " Oh, heaven have mercy ; " 
 cried Madelon — " all now is lost ! " and with a piercing shriek, 
 she fell fainting on the ground. De Scuderi gave her in 
 charge to la Martiniere, and retired into another room. 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 335 
 
 rt-brokcn, and utterly discontented "with herself 
 5 else, de Scuderi scarcely wished to live any 
 longer in a world haunted by such abominable deceit and 
 hypocrisy. She complained bitterly of her capricious destiny, 
 which had granted to her so many years, during which her 
 reliance on her own judgment in distinguishing between vice 
 and virtue had remained unshaken, and now, in her old age, 
 had at once annihilated, as if in scorn and mockery, all the 
 beautiful illusions by which her spirits ^ad been hitherto sup- 
 ported; for with whom had she ever thought herself more 
 secure than with this unfortunate girl ? While she was thus 
 occupied, it chanced that she overheard some conversation 
 between Madelon and la Martiniere. She could distinguish 
 that the former said, in a low, soft voice, "Alas ! and she too 
 has been deluded at last by the cruel men ! Oh wretched 
 Madelon ! — Poor, unfortunate Olivier ! " The tone in which 
 these words were uttered struck de Scuderi to the heart, and 
 again she felt, involuntarily, an apprehension that there might 
 be some hidden mystery, which, if revealed, would completely 
 prove Brusson's innocence ; and, tormented by this conflict 
 of impressions, she could not help exclaiming, — " What demon 
 has involved me in this affair, which becomes so intolerable 
 that it will actually cost me my life ! ' ' 
 
 Just then Baptiste came into the room, pale and trembling, 
 with the intelligence that D esgrais was at the door, and demanded 
 instant admittance. Since the trial of the abominable la Voisin, 
 the appearance of this officer at any house was the sure sign of 
 some criminal accusation, and on this account the faithful 
 porter had been so terrified. De Scuderi, however, smiled 
 very composedly. " What is the matter with you, Baptiste? " 
 said she ; ' * perhaps you think my name has been discovered 
 on la Voisin' s catalogue ? " " God forbid," answered Bap- 
 tiste ; " how can your ladyship speak of such a thing ? But, 
 still, the horrible man, Desgrais, talks and looks so mysteri- 
 ously, and he is so urgent, that it seems as if he had not a 
 single moment to wait your leisure.' 1 f< Well, then," answered 
 
Odb HOFFMANN S STKANUE STORIES. 
 
 do Scuderi, "bring the man to this room as soon as possible ; 
 for however horrible he appears in your estimation, his visit 
 causes to me no anxiety whatever." Baptiste went accord- 
 ingly, and soon returned, followed by this unwelcome guest. 
 
 " The President," said Desgrais, speaking all the way as 
 he came into the room, as if to save time, — "the President 
 la Regnie has sent me to your ladyship, with a request to 
 which he could scarcely hope that you would agree, were it 
 not that he is so well aware of your extraordinary courage, 
 and your zeal for justice ; moreover, were it not that the last 
 and only means to unravel the mystery attending the assassi- 
 nation of Cardillac seem to rest in your hands. Besides, he 
 informed me that you have already taken a lively interest in 
 that criminal process, by which the whole attention of the 
 Ohambre Ardente is now occupied. Olivier Brusson, since 
 the time when, as I am informed, he was permitted to see 
 your ladyship at the Courier gerie, has been half distracted. 
 Before that interview, he seemed at times disposed to make a 
 confession ; but now again he swears by heaven and all the 
 saints, that, as to the murder of Cardillac, he is perfectly 
 innocent, though, for his other crimes, he indeed deserves 
 punishment. You will observe, Mademoiselle, that this last 
 clause points at some concealed guilt, of which the very ex- 
 istence was not yet suspected, and which may prove far 
 more important than Cardillac' s assassination ; but our en- 
 deavors have been completely baffled as to extorting from him 
 even a single word more. Even the threat of putting him 
 on the rack seems not to have had any influence. Meanwhile 
 he beset us with the most earnest prayers and supplications 
 that we should grant him another meeting with you ; for it is 
 to the lady de Scuderi alone that he is willing to make a full 
 confession. Our humble request is, that you will have the 
 condescension and goodness to hear in private the deposition 
 of Olivier Brusson." 
 
 " How is this ? " cried de Scuderi, quite angrily j "am I 
 then to serve as an agent of your criminal court ? Am I to 
 
OARDILLAC, tfHE JEWELLER. . 337 
 
 abuse the confidence reposed in me by an unhappy man, and 
 endeavor to bring him to the scaffold ? No, no, Desgrais ! — 
 Brusson may be a murderer, but I shall never act such a 
 degrading part as you would have me to take against him. — 
 Moreover, I have no wish to be acquainted with any of the 
 mysteries which may weigh on his conscience, and which if 
 they were entrusted to me, I should look upon as sacred, and 
 never to be divulged." — " Perhaps," said Desgrais, in a 
 sneering tone, " your ladyship's intentions in that respect 
 might be changed, if you had once heard his confession. But 
 have you not yourself earnestly enjoined the President to be 
 humane ? He now implicitly follows your advice, by giving 
 way to the foolish requests of his criminal, and is willing to 
 try the last possible means before having recourse to the tor- 
 ture, to which, in truth, Brusson should long ere this have 
 been doomed." At these words de Scuderi could not help 
 shuddering with apprehension. "Your ladyship will please 
 to observe," added Desgrais, " that we should by no means 
 wish you again to visit the gloomy chambers of the Courier- 
 gerie, which may, no doubt, have inspired you with disgust 
 and aversion. In the quiet of the night, when no notice will 
 be taken of our proceedings, Brusson maybe brought to your 
 house, where, without being overheard, (though we shall 
 doubtless keep a strict watch on the doors and windows,) he 
 
 may, unconstrained and voluntarily, make his confession. 
 
 That your ladyship has nothing to fear from this unfortunate 
 man, I am thoroughly convinced, and, on that point, could 
 set my own life at stake. He speaks of you with the greatest 
 respect and veneration, insisting too, that if his cruel destiny 
 had not denied him an interview with the lady de Scuderi at 
 the proper time, all his present misery would have been 
 averted. Finally, it will remain completely at your choice, 
 after the meeting, to repeat what Brusson has divulged, or to 
 conceal it, as you may think proper." 
 
 De Scuderi remained for some time silent and lost in re- 
 flection. She would gladly have avoided this interview ; vet 
 29 
 
338 Hoffmann's stuange stories. 
 
 it seemed as if Providence had chosen her as an agent to clear 
 up this intricate mystery, and that it was impossible for her 
 now to retreat. At length, having formed her resolution, she 
 answered Desgrais with great dignity. " The task devolved 
 on me is indeed painful and repugnant to my feelings ; but 
 Heaven will grant me patience and composure to undergo that 
 which I know to be my duty. Bring the criminal hither this 
 evening, and I shall speak with him as you desire. " 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 Just as formerly, when Brusson came with the jewels, 
 there was a knocking about midnight at the house-door, which 
 Baptiste, who was forewarned of this visit, immediately 
 opened. A shivering coldness pervaded every nerve in de 
 Scuderi's frame, when, by the measured steps and hollow 
 murmuring voices, she was aware that the gens d'ar?nes, who 
 had brought the prisoner, divided their forces, and took their 
 stations to keep watch in different corners of the corridor, 
 At last the door of her chamber was slowly opened. Des- 
 grais stepped in, and behind him the criminal, who was now 
 freed from his fetters, and well dressed. " Please your lady- 
 ship/' said the police officer, "here is the prisoner;" and, 
 according to promise, he retired, without another word, to his 
 post in the corridor. 
 
 Brusson now fell on his knees before the venerable lady, 
 elapsed his hands imploringly, and burst into tears, — while de 
 Scuderi became very pale, and looked at him without being 
 able to speak. Though his features were now changed and 
 disfigured by the sufferings he had undergone, yet on his 
 naturally fine countenance there was an expression of truth 
 and honesty, which pleaded more than words could have done 
 in his favor. Besides, the longer that de Scuderi observed 
 him, the more forcibly there arose on her mind the idea of 
 some person whom she had once known and loved, but whose 
 
Cahdillac, the jeweller. > S39 
 
 name it was impossible for her to recall. By degrees, all her 
 former feelings of aversion and terror declined away. She 
 forgot that it was the murderer of Cardiilae who knelt before 
 her, and spoke to him in that graceful tone of quiet benevc- 
 lence which was so peculiarly her own, asking him why he had 
 requested this meeting, and what he had to disclose to her ? 
 The youth still remained in his suppliant posture, heaved a 
 deep sigh, and answered, " Oh, my worthy benefactress, is 
 it then possible that all remembrance of me has vanished from 
 your mind ? " 
 
 De Scuderi replied, that she had certainly found a resem- 
 blance between him, and some one that had been well known 
 to her; moreover, that he was indebted solely to this likeness, 
 if she could now get the better of her abhorrence, and quietly 
 listen to the confession of an assassin. At these words Brus- 
 son was evidently much hurt.; he rose indignantly, and retired 
 a few paces, while his brows assumed a lowering and fixed 
 expression. " It seems then," said he, " that 3-our lac^rship 
 lias forgotten Anne Guiot ; but, however that may be, it is 
 her son Olivier, the boy whom m his infancy you have so 
 often held caressingly in your arms, who now stands before 
 you." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed de Scuderi, and with both 
 hands covering her face, she sank back on the sofa. There 
 was, indeed, reasonable ground for the painful sensations by 
 which she was now overpowered. Anne Guiot, the neglected 
 daughter of a poor citizen, had been from childhood protected 
 in de Scuderi's house, who had behaved to her with the utmost 
 kindness and affection, even like a mother. After she had 
 grown up to a woman's estate, it happened that there was a 
 handsome young man, named Claude Brusson, who paid his 
 addresses to the girl. As this youth was a very clever watch- 
 maker, and as such would scarcely fail to gain a sufficient 
 livelihood in Paris, de Scuderi knowing that Anne was much 
 attached to him, had no hesitation in agreeing to their mar- 
 riage. The young couple set up house for themselves, seemed 
 
340 Hoffmann's strange stomes. 
 
 to be quite happy in their domestic circumstances, and what 
 added much to their felicity, was the birth of a beautiful boy, 
 who was the perfect image of his mother. 
 
 De Scuderi made an absolute idol of the little Olivier, 
 whom she used to keep whole days from his parents to play 
 with, and caress ;— the boy, of course, became accustomed to 
 her, and staid with her just as willingly as he would have 
 done with his own father and mother. Three years had passed 
 away, when the envy and opposition of Brusson's professional 
 brethren had such influence against him, that his business 
 every day decreased, and he was at last reduced to the danger 
 of actual want. Under these circumstances he was seized 
 with an ardent longing to visit his native city of Geneva, and, 
 consequently, his family was removed thither, notwithstanding 
 the objections of De Scuderi, who wished that Brusson should 
 remain at Paris, and promised him all the support in her 
 power. From Switzerland, Anne wrote several affectionate 
 letters, and seemed as before quite contented ; then, all at 
 once, without assigning any reason, she became silent, and dc 
 Scuderi could only conclude that the life she led at Geneva, 
 was so happy and prosperous, that it had effaced from her 
 mind all recollection of her former circumstances in Paris.— 
 Since the date of the watchmaker's removal and establishment 
 in Switzerland, there had passed an interval of twenty-three 
 years, so that de Scuderi had almost forgotten him and his 
 affairs — nor had the surname of Brusson ever been familiar 
 to her. 
 
 ''Oh, horrible !" cried she, forcing herself to look up, 
 " Thou art Olivier, the son of my beloved Anne Guiot, — 
 and now ? " — " Indeed," said Olivier, " you could never have 
 anticipated, that the boy whom you had so often caressed with 
 all a mother's fondness, would one day appear before you as a 
 man accused of the most horrible crimes. I am, indeed, not 
 o-uiltless ; and there are errors which the Chambre Ardente 
 may justly charge against me. But I swear most solemnly, 
 even by my hopes of heaven's mercy in my last moments, 
 
CA11DILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ^ oil 
 
 that I am guiltless of every assassination. It was not by my 
 hand, nor through any connivance of mine, that the unhappy 
 Cardillac met his fate." Olivier's voice faltered, and de 
 Scuderi pointed to a chair, on which, trembling, as if unable 
 to support himself, he now took his place." 
 
 " I have had time enough," said he, " to prepare myself 
 for this conversation, which I look upon as the last favor 
 which can be granted to me in this world, by that righteous 
 Providence with whom I have already made my peace. I 
 have at least acquired sufficient composure and self-possession 
 to give a distinct narrative of my unparalleled misfortunes, to 
 which I entreat that you will listen with patience, however 
 much you may be shocked and surprised by the discovery of 
 a secret, such as could never have been guessed at, and which 
 may seem almost incredible. 
 
 1 ' Would to heaven my poor father had never left Paris ! — 
 My earliest recollections of Geneva present to me only the 
 tears and lamentations of my unfortunate parents, with whom 
 I also wept bitterly, without knowing wherefore. Afterwards, 
 as I grew up to boyhood, I became aware, by my own sad 
 experience, of the poverty and privations under which they 
 now lived, for my father found himself deceived and disap- 
 pointed in every hope which he had cherished on coming to 
 his native country, till, at length, quite overcome, and worn 
 out by his afflictions, he died, just as he had succeeded in 
 placing me with a goldsmith, as a journeyman apprentice. — 
 My mother often spoke of the noble minded and benevolent 
 Mademoiselle de Scuderi, and wished to write to you of her 
 distresses. Many letters were begun ; but then she was too 
 soon overcome by that sickly cowardice and apathy, which so 
 often accompany misfortune. This feeling, and, perhaps, too, 
 a false shame that often preys on a wounded spirit, prevented 
 her from coming to any effectual resolution, and, finally, within 
 a few months of my father's death, mj mother followed him 
 to the grave. 
 
 ' ' Poor unfortunate Anne ! ' ' cried de Scuderi, again over- 
 29* 
 
342 hoffmann\s strange htok-iks. 
 
 come by her feelings. " But, I thank heaven, that she is re- 
 moved from this wicked world, and has not lived to see the 
 day, when her son, branded with ignominy, is to fall by the 
 hands of the executioners." At these words, Olivier uttered 
 a groan of anguish, and raised his eyes with a wild unnatural 
 glare. There was a noise, too, outside the door, of steps 
 moving rapidly backwards and forwards. "Ho, ho! " said 
 Olivier, with a bitter smile, and recovering his self-possession ; 
 " Desgrais keeps his comrades on the alert, as if, forsooth, I 
 could here, or any where else, escape from their clutches ! 
 
 " But let me proceed. I was severely, and, indeed, cruelly 
 treated by my new master, although I soon proved myself a 
 good workman, and even excelled my instructor. It happened, 
 one day, that there came a stranger to our wareroom, who 
 wished to .buy some articles of jewelry. Looking at a very 
 handsome necklace, which was of my workmanship, he clap- 
 ped me familiarly on the shoulder, and said, ' Ha ! my young 
 friend, this is, indeed, admirably finished ! I know not any 
 man who could excel you, unless it were Rene Cardillac, who 
 is, out of sight, the best goldsmith in the world. You should, 
 in my opinion, betake yourself to him, for he would probably 
 be very glad to receive you into his house as an assistant ; 
 and, on the other hand, it is only from him that you could 
 yet learn to improve in your handicraft.' 
 
 " The words of this stranger made a deep impression on 
 me. I could no longer be contented in Geneva, but cherished 
 a vehement desire of returning to my native France. At 
 last, I succeeded in getting rid of my engagements to my 
 master, and, in due time, arrived in Paris, where I inquired 
 for Bene Cardillac, by whom I was received with such cold- 
 ness and harshness of manner, that an inexperienced youth 
 might well have been utteily discouraged. I would not give 
 up my purpose, however, and insisted that he should give me 
 some employment, however trifling and insignificant, — so that 
 I was, at last, ordered to make up, and finish in my best 
 manner, a small ring. When I brought him my workman- 
 
CAKDILLAC, TliE JEWELLER. o4o 
 
 ship, he fixed on me his keen penetrating eyes, as if he would 
 look me through and through. At last, he said, * Brusson, 
 thou art, in truth, an excellent clever fellow. Thou shalt 
 henceforth live in my house, and assist me in the workshop.. 
 I shall allow thee a good salary, and thou shalt have no reason 
 to be dissatisfied with thy place. 3 
 
 " Cardillac kept his word. I was received kindly at our 
 next meeting, and had no reason to complain of the treatment 
 that I experienced. For several weeks I had been in the 
 house without seeing Madelon, who was, at that time, living 
 with a distant relation in the country. At length she returned 
 home, and, oh heaven ! how was I astonished at the innocent 
 angelic beauty of that girl ! Was there ever any mortal that 
 loved so fondly and fervently as I have done, — and now, — 
 oh Madelon!'' 
 
 Olivier was here overcome by his feelings, and for some 
 time could not proceed. He covered his face with both hands, 
 and even sobbed violently ; but with a determined effort, he 
 resumed, as follows : — 
 
 " Madelon often looked at me with an expressive glance, 
 in which I thought that I could read her approval of my 
 evident admiration. She used also to come more and more 
 frequently into the workshop, till, in short, I discovered with 
 rapture that she loved me, and closely as her father might 
 have watched us, many a stolen kiss or pressure of the hand 
 servefl for a token of the agreement thus mutually under- 
 stood between us. Cardillac, indeed, never seemed to ob- 
 serve any of our proceedings ; but I had intended, after I 
 had proved myself deserving of his good opinion, and had 
 passed my years of trial, to pay my addresses openly to Mad- 
 elon. One morning, however, when I was about to begin my 
 work for the day, Cardillac suddenly came to me with his 
 eyes flashing contempt and indignation. ' I have no longer 
 any need of your assistance,' said he, — ' Get out of my house 
 within this very hour, and never again come in my sight. — 
 The reason why I cannot suffer your presence any longer 
 
344 iioffima.nn's strange stoki^. 
 
 requires no explanation. The fruit at which you have aimed 
 may be tempting indeed ; hut it hangs too high for your 
 reach : therefore pack up and begone ! ' 
 
 <; I was about to speak, but without a moment's warning, 
 as if struck with a sudden madness, he seized me by the 
 collar and forced me out of doors with such violence, that I 
 fell down stairs, and was severely hurt in the head and right 
 arm. I left his home with my heart almost bursting with 
 grief and rage, and betook myself to the farthest end of the 
 Faubourg de St. Martin, where I had an acquaintance who 
 received me into the ground-flour of his humble dwelling. — 
 Here my agitations continued, and I could never rest by 
 night nor day. In the night, indeed, I used to wander about 
 Cardillac's house, hoping that Madelon perhaps might hear 
 my complaints, which at intervals I could not repress ; — and 
 if she could only succeed in speaking to me from a window, 
 I would have tried to persuade her into adopting some one of 
 many desperate plans which I had been revolving to effect 
 her escape. 
 
 " Now, my lady, you will please to observe, that adjoining 
 Cardillac's house in the Rue de la Nicaise, is a high court 
 wall, ornamented with niches, in some of which there are yet 
 old mouldering statues cut in freestone. It happened once 
 that I was hiding myself near one of the statues, and gazing 
 up to the windows of the house, that looked into the square 
 court, of which this high wall is the boundary. Suddenly, 
 while I was then on the watch, I perceived light in the work- 
 room of Cardillac. It was now midnight, at which hour my 
 master never used to be awake; for, as the clock struck nine, 
 he punctually went to rest. My heart beat violently, for I 
 thought it possible that some accident might have occurred, 
 in consequence of which I might once more obtain entrance 
 into the house ; but the light soon after vanished. Determin- 
 ing to watch as long as possible, in order to escape all risk of 
 observation, I forced myself into the niche behind the statue ; 
 but scarcely had I taken my place when I was obliged to recoil 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 345 
 
 with a feeling almost of horror, for I felt an opposing pressure, 
 precisely as if the stone image had become suddenly a living 
 being. I retired to a little distance, keeping always in the 
 shade, and saw that the statue slowly turned round, and from 
 behind it there emerged a dark figure in a long mantle, that 
 with cautious light steps glided away into the street. I ran 
 up to the statue and tried to move it, but it now stood fixed 
 as usual. Without reflection, and forced on by some irresist- 
 ible inward impulse, I left the court and followed the myste- 
 rious figure, till, just beside a shrine of the blest Virgin, he 
 chanced to turn half round, and the full glare of the conse- 
 crated lamp fell upon his visage. It was Cardillac. 
 
 "An indescribable mood of terror and indefinable appre- 
 hension now overcame me. As if spell-driven, I must move 
 on after this ghostly sleep-walker, for as such Cardillac now 
 appeared to me, though it was not the time of the full moon, 
 when that fearful malady generally seizes its victims. At 
 last, he suddenly turned off to one side, and vanished in the 
 dark shadows of the night. As I went on, however, I became 
 perfectly aware where he was, for being acquainted with the 
 slightest sounds of his voice, I heard, by certain habitual in- 
 terjections, in a low muttering tone, that he had stationed 
 himself in the portal of a neighboring house. * What can be 
 the meaning of all this ? ' said I to myself, ' and what can he 
 intend to do ? ' At the same time, I remained close within 
 the shade of the houses, so that I was quite unobserved. I 
 had not waited long, when there came a man with a grand 
 plume of feathers in his hat, clattering with his military spurs, 
 and singing all the way, as if elated with wine, ' C'est V amour, 
 V amour i V amour I " and so forth. Like a tiger on his prey, 
 Cardillac started from his hiding place, and attacked the man, 
 who did not utter a groan or shout, but fell instantly, as if 
 lifeless, to the ground. I rushed forward to prevent further 
 violence, and met the assassin face to face, as he stepped 
 across the body of the murdered man. ' Master Cardillac ! ' 
 cried I, in my loudest voice, • what are you about here ? ' 
 
340 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 He made no reply, but with one half- suppressed exclamation 
 of rage and resentment, passed by me with incredible speed, 
 and vanished. 
 
 " I was now so much agitated, that I scarcely knew where 
 I was, or what I did ; however, with tottering steps, I drew 
 near to Cardillac's victim, and knelt down beside him on the 
 pavement. I thought life could not yet be extinct, and that 
 he might possibly recover ; however, I soon found he was 
 quite dead. Meanwhile the marechaussee had come up un- 
 awares, and now surrounded me. ' So soon another murder ! ' 
 cried one of them, ' and no doubt by the hands of the same 
 incarnate demons ! Hilloah, young man, what are you about 
 there ? You are one of the band, perhaps, — away with you to 
 prison ! ' Accordingly they seized me as if I had been the 
 criminal, while I was scarcely able to stammer out, that I was 
 quite incapable of such a horrid deed, and that they should 
 let me depart in peace. At last one of them held the light 
 to my face, and laughed aloud. 'Why,' said he, 'this is 
 Olivier Brusson, the goldsmith's apprentice — he who now 
 works with that good honest citizen, Master B,ene Cardillac, 
 Aye, forsooth, he would murder people in the streets ? And 
 it looks very like an assassin to stay here lamenting over a 
 dead body, and allow himself to be taken prisoner ! But how 
 did this happen, Brusson ? Tell your story boldly, and at 
 once.' 
 
 " \ I was walking along the street,' said X, l when I saw a 
 man start from the wall, attack him who is now lying there, 
 and knock him down. Then, as in my terror I cried aloud, 
 the assassin ran away with the speed of lightning, and dis- 
 appeared. I wished now to see whether his unfortunate vic- 
 tim were really dead, or might be recovered.' ' That was 
 needless enough,' cried one of them, who had lifted up the 
 dead body ; ' these demons always make sure work, and the 
 dagger has gone, as usual, right through the heart.' ' The 
 devil fetch them ! ' cried another ; ' it has happened now just 
 as the last time. We came only a few minutes too late.' 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 317 
 
 Afterwards, as I said, (and this was. indeed, a great crime,) 
 that I could not give any farther information, they let me go, 
 and retired, bearing away the murdered man. 
 
 ;i I cannot describe adequately my feelings when I was 
 thus left alone. It seemed to me as if I had been under the 
 dominion of some hideous dream, from which I must now 
 awake, and wonder that I could have been so deceived ! 
 Cardillac, the father of my beloved Madelon, transformed all 
 at once into an ignominious, cruel-hearted assassin ! Notwith- 
 standing the violence with which he had conducted himself 
 towards me, I could not have imagined any event more utterly 
 impossible. Overpowered by these reflections, I had sunk 
 down, almost fainting, on the stone steps of a house-door, and 
 remained there unconscious how the time passed, till the 
 morning broke, and all was light around me. Then I observed 
 an officer's hat, richly adorned with lace and feathers, lying 
 on the pavement, and the idea that Cardillac 's abominable 
 deed had been perpetrated on the very spot where I now 
 rested, rose in my mind with such intolerable force, that I 
 started up in horror, and ran as fast as I could to my own 
 lodgings. 
 
 '• Quite confused, and unable to follow out distinctly any 
 one train of thought, I was sitting in my lonely apartment, 
 when, to my great surprise, the door opened, and Reno Car- 
 dillac stood before me. ' In God's name,' said I. * what can 
 you want here ? ' Not attending to this, he came up, and 
 smiled upon me with an expression of friendly confidence, 
 which only increased my inward agitation and abhorrence. 
 He drew in an old broken stool, and took his place beside me, 
 while I was not able to lift myself from the straw couch on 
 which I had lain down. 
 
 " * Now then, Olivier,' he began, * how have you lived, 
 and how are you spending your time ? My conduct was, in- 
 deed, shamefully rash, when I turned you out of my house ; 
 fur every moment since then, I have deeply regretted your 
 absence. At present, for example, I have some jewelry in 
 
348 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 hand, which I cannot finish without your assistance. What 
 would you think of again taking your place in my work-room ? 
 You are silent ! Yes, I know that I have injured and insulted 
 you. It is needless to deny that I was violently enraged 
 against you, on account of your attachment to my daughter 
 Madelon. But since then, I have carefully reflected on the 
 matter, and decided that, considering the cleverness, industry 
 and fidelity which you have always shown, I ought not to 
 wish for any better son-in-law. Come with me, then, if you 
 are not unwilling, and you shall have my free permission to 
 obtain Madelon, as soon as you can, for your betrothed bride.' 
 
 " Cardillac's words agitated me to the heart. I shuddered 
 at his enormous treachery, and could scarcely bring out a 
 word, ' You hesitate,' said he, in a sharp tone, fixing on me 
 his intense glaring eyes. * You hesitate ! And, perhaps, you 
 could not go with me to-day. You have other plans in view, 
 and will probably pay a visit to Desgrais, or get yourself in- 
 troduced to D'Argensen or la Regnie ? — But, take care, 
 young man, that the clutches of these executioners, whom you 
 are about to rouse for the destruction of another, do not turn 
 
 against yourself, and rend you ! ' -Here, my indignation 
 
 suddenly broke out in words. 
 
 " * Let those,' said I, 'who are convicted by their own 
 conscience, entertain fears of such executioners. I, at least, 
 can front them without apprehension.' * The truth is,' said 
 Cardillac, still retaining perfect composure, * it is an honor 
 for you to be in my employment, as I am universally known 
 and celebrated as the first artizan in Paris ; and, at the same 
 time, my character is so well established, that every evil re- 
 port against me would recoil heavily on the head of the 
 calumniator. As for Madelon, however, I must confess to 
 you, that it is wholly to her that you owe this visit from me. 
 She is attached to you, with a degree of constancy and ardor, 
 which, in so young a girl, I should hardly have thought 
 possible. As soon as she knew that you were away, she fell 
 at my feet, burst into tears, and confessed that, without you, 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLEH. .' 349 
 
 she could not live. I thought this was a mere momentary 
 delusion of ber own imagination, as it usually happens with 
 such young girls, who are ready to die, forsooth, for the first 
 smooth-faced lad who happens to look kindly upon them. 
 But, in truth, my Madelon became seriously ill, and when I 
 wanted to persuade her out of the foolish fancies that she had 
 taken up, she only answered by repeating your name in a tone 
 of distraction, about an hundred times over. What could I 
 now do, unless I resolved to let her utterly despair ? This 
 would have been too harsh, and, yesterday morning, I said to 
 her that I would grant my full and free consent, and that I 
 would, if possible, bring you home with me to-day. So, in 
 the course of one night, she is again become blooming like a 
 rose in June, and now expects you with the utmost impa- 
 tience. ?> 
 
 " I heard no more ; — my senses were quite confused and 
 lost, so that, Heaven forgive me, I know not how it happened, 
 but ere long I found myself once more in the house of Cardil- 
 lac. I heard Madelon's voice — ' Olivier ! my own Olivier ! 
 my beloved — my husband ! * With these words she rushed 
 into my arms ; and, with the most fervent rapture, I swore 
 by the blessed Virgin and all the saints, that I would never 
 forsake her.' " 
 
 Agitated even to tears by the recollection of that decisive 
 moment, Olivier was obliged to pause in his narrative, while 
 de Scuderi was confounded at hearing such imputations 
 against one whom she had always looked upon as a model of 
 regularity and integrity. " This is frightful, " cried she; 
 " Rene Cardillac then belonged to that band of invisible 
 miscreants, who have so long haunted our city, so that Paris 
 might be called a mere den of murderers, ' 9 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Olivier; " speak not of band, for there 
 is not, and never was any such association. It was Cardillac 
 alone, who, with diabolical activity, sought for and found his 
 victims through the whole city. On his being alone, in the 
 practices of these enormities, depended the security with which 
 30 
 
350 
 
 he carried through his plans, and the unconquerable difficulty 
 of tracing out the murderer. But let me proceed. What I 
 have yet to add, will fully explain to you the mysteries in 
 which this most unprincipled, and yet most unhappy of all 
 mortals was involved." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " The situation in which I now found myself with Cardillac 
 may be easily imagined. The decisive step was taken, and I 
 could not retreat. Sometimes my gloomy imagination repre- 
 sented to me that I had become the assistant and accomplice 
 of an assassin ; only in my love for Madelon, I forgot at in- 
 tervals the affliction that otherwise preyed on my spirits, and 
 only in her presence was I able to conceal my feelings of ab- 
 horrence towards her father. If I joined with the old man in 
 his professional labors, I could not bear to look on him, or to 
 answer when he spoke to me, such was the indignation I felt 
 against the vile hypocrite, who seemed to fulfil all the duties 
 of an affectionate parent and good citizen, while the night 
 veiled in its darkness his unparalleled iniquity. Madelon, 
 pious, confiding, and innocent as an angel, looked up to him 
 with unchanging love and affection ! The thought often struck 
 like a dagger to my heart, that if justice one day overtook the 
 now masked and concealed assassin, this poor girl, so long 
 deceived by his fiend-like cunning, would fall a victim to the 
 most incurable despondency. 
 
 " Such apprehensions altogether prevented me from acting 
 as I should otherwise have done, and even though I had been 
 already condemned to the scaffold, I should have remained 
 silent. Meanwhile I gained many hints from the conversation 
 of the marechaussee, yet the motive of Cardillac's crimes, and 
 the manner in which he carried them through, remained to 
 me a complete riddle. The explanation, however, followed 
 soon after. 
 
 " One day Cardillac, who generally excited my abhorrence 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 851 
 
 the more, because, when at work, he was, or pretended to be, 
 cheerful and merry, appeared all of a sudden quite thoughtful 
 and reserved. With a vehement start, he threw away an 
 ornament on which he was then at work, so that the diamonds 
 and pearls rolled about the floor, and exclaimed — * Olivier, it 
 is impossible that our intercourse can any longer be continued 
 on this footing. Such a connection is to me quite intolerable. 
 That which baffled all the cunning of Desgrais and his asso- 
 ciates to discover, chance put it in your power at once to de- 
 velope. You have beheld me at my nightly task, to which I 
 am driven on by malignant stars, — by resistless destiny, 
 against which I am unable to contend. It was indeed your 
 evil star, too, that obliged you to follow me, with noiseless 
 steps, and, as if invisible, so that I, who generally see objects 
 in the dark, like a tiger, and hear the slightest noise, even to 
 the humming of midges in the air, was never once aware of 
 your presence. In short, it has become your fate in this 
 world to be united with me, as my accomplice and companion ; 
 and, as you are now situated in this house, there can be no 
 thought on your part of treachery and betrayal. Therefore 
 you may freely listen to all that I can reveal.' 
 
 " Never, never will I be thy accomplice, thou hypocritical 
 old villain ! These words were at my tongue's end, and I 
 even tried to utter them, but the very horror and detestation 
 which I felt towards Cardillac, rendered me inarticulate, so 
 that I was able only to bring out some unintelligible sounds, 
 which he might interpret in his own way. He now seated 
 himself again on his working stool, and wiped his forehead, as 
 if the conflict of his feelings had been more overpowering than 
 the severest labor. He seemed fearfully moved by his recol- 
 lections of the past, and with difficulty to regain any degree 
 of self-possession ; but at last he resumed : — 
 
 " * In the writings of natural philosophers,' said he, 'we 
 read many strange stories of the wonderful impressions to 
 which mothers are liable, and of the deep influences which 
 such impressions, derived from outward causes, evince on their 
 
352 Hoffmann's strange storied. 
 
 children. I have not met with any story more marvellous, 
 however, than one which has been told to me of my own 
 mother. About two months after her marriage, she was 
 admitted, along with other women, to be a looker-on at a 
 brilliant festival given by our Court at Trianon. There her 
 attention was so powerfully attracted by a certain cavalier, in 
 a handsome Spanish dress, with a very magnificent chain, 
 studded with diamonds, about his neck, that she could not 
 turn her eyes from him for a moment. Rer whole heart was 
 fixed on these jewels, and she looked at them with a most 
 ardent longing, convinced that they were a treasure of incal- 
 culable worth. The same cavalier had, some years before, 
 when my mother was a young girl, paid his addresses to her, 
 but was repulsed with indifference and disdain. My mother 
 recognized him ; but now, illumined as he was by the splendor 
 of the brilliant diamonds, he seemed to her a being of a higher 
 order, the very beau ideal of beauty and attraction. The 
 cavalier did not fail to remark the fixed direction of her eyes, 
 and the fervent admiration by which they seemed to be ani- 
 mated. He thought, of course, that she was now more favor- 
 ably disposed towards him ; he contrived to make his way to 
 her party, entered into conversation, and, in the course of 
 the evening, found means to entice her with him to a lonely 
 thicket in the garden, quite apart from her associates. There 
 an accident occurred, which, to this moment, remains inex- 
 plicable, unless on the supposition that my father was also 
 present, and had been on the watch ; but, during their inter- 
 view, while the cavalier persisted in his amorous attentions, 
 and my mother thought only of the beautiful chain, he was 
 stabbed to the heart by some one who came behind him una- 
 wares, and who vanished instantly, favored by the darkness 
 of the night. My mother's piercing shrieks brought people 
 to her assistance, and the cavalier only lived long enough to 
 declare that she was guiltless of his fate ; but the horror and 
 agitation of this adventure brought on a severe fit of illness, 
 so that she and her unborn child were given up for lost. 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 353 
 
 However, she recovered, and her accouchement afterwards 
 was more favorable than could have been expected, though 
 the feelings inspired by that event acquired an influence over 
 me, which could never afterwards be resisted. My evil star 
 was now risen above the horizon, and had shot down those 
 fatal rays which kindled in my heart one of the most extraordinary 
 and destructive passions by which any poor mortal was ever 
 misled and tormented. 
 
 * Already, in my earliest childhood, glittering gems and 
 gold chains were, above all things, the delight of my existence. 
 This was looked on merely as an instance of that fondness for 
 finery, which is common to all infants. But time proved that 
 there was far more in the matter ; for, when arrived at boy- 
 hood, I began to steal gold and jewels whenever I could lay my 
 hands upon them. Like the most experienced connoisseur, I 
 knew, by mere instinct, how to distinguish all sorts of real 
 and precious jewelry from those which were counterfeited. 
 And it was only by the genuine specimens that I was attracted. 
 All imitations, and even gold coins, I left as unworthy of iny 
 notice. It was in vain that my father endeavored, by the 
 most violent chastisements, to eradicate those propensities, 
 which were inherent in my nature, and which, accordingly, 
 grew with my growth, and strengthened with my strength. 
 
 ' Merely for the sake of getting, by fair means, such treas- 
 ures into my hands, I resolved to become a goldsmith. I took 
 lessons, and labored with passionate enthusiasm, till at length 
 I surpassed all my instructors, and beeame a first-rate master 
 in the art. I began business on my own account, and now 
 there commenced a period in which my natural impulses, so 
 long repressed, broke forth with such vehemence, that they 
 soon got the better of every other consideration or propensity. 
 No sooner had I delivered up any fine specimen of jewelry 
 to the person by whom it had been ordered, than I fell into a 
 state of disquietude, almost of despair, which was quite intol- 
 erable, and robbed me utterly of health and sleep. Like a 
 ghost, the figure of the person for whom I had been working 
 30* 
 
354 Hoffmann's strangb stories. 
 
 stood day and night before me, adorned with my jewels, and 
 a voice sounded ever and anon in my ears : — ' Take it, — it is 
 thine ! — What business have the dead with these diamonds ? ' 
 At last the passion was irresistible — I betook myself regularly 
 to the arts of thieving, and, having free access into the houses 
 of the great, I profited by every opportunity. Of course, no 
 look resisted my ingenuity as a mechanic, and, in a short 
 time, many of the ornaments that I had made were again in 
 my own hands. But, afterwards, this was not sufficient to 
 soothe the disquietude, or disperse the illusions by which I 
 was tormented. That mysterious voice, of which I have 
 already told you, was again audible, and cried to me many 
 times, as if in scorn and mockery — ' Ho — ho ! — a dead man 
 now wears your fine diamonds ! 9 It remained even to myself 
 inexplicable, that against every one for whom I had provided 
 brilliant zones, necklaces, and earrings, I entertained the 
 most implacable hatred, till at last there arose in my mind a 
 thirst after assassination, at which I myself, in the beginning, 
 trembled and recoiled with horror, 
 
 'About that time I purchased the house in which we now 
 live. I had concluded the bargain, and the landlord was 
 seated with me in this very room, where we were making 
 merry over a bottle of wine. It was late in the night, and I 
 wished to retire, when my entertainer said, ' Listen, Monsieur 
 Sene ; before you go, I must make you acquainted with a 
 secret contrivance in this house, which is now yours. Look 
 here ! ' — With these words, my landlord threw open a press 
 in the wall, pushed aside the back pannels, which left an 
 opening, through which we stepped into a small chamber, 
 where he stepped down and lifted up a trap-door. We then 
 descended a steep narrow staircase, and came to a small gate- 
 way, which he unlocked, and passed by it into the open square 
 court. Here my landlord stepped up to the wall, pressed his 
 fingers on a knob of iron, that was scarcely perceptible, and 
 immediately a large stone began to move, so that one could 
 enter by the opening which it had left, and pass through the 
 
CaRDILLAC. TIl£ JJBWKLtBK. 6DD 
 
 wall into the street. There is, besides,, a concealed passage 
 running through the wall, by which one risaj come to the 
 statue, without entering the court; and these inventions were 
 probably the work of the crafty Carthusian monks, of whose 
 convent, in ancient times, this house formed a part. That 
 which looks like a large stone is only a piece of wood, covered 
 on the outside with rough paint, and properly colored to 1< 
 like stone, into which there is fixed ?. statue, which is also of 
 wood prepared in the same manner, and the whole tun:- io- 
 gether by means of concealed mechanism. 
 
 1 Dark forebodings, or, I should rather say, brilliant : 
 rose on my mind when I beheld these contrivances. It 
 seemed as if they were exactly made for the fulfilment of 
 deeds which were to myself yet a mystery, for I had b 
 cherished any regular plan for street-robbery and assasanati 
 My business was at this time rapidly increasing, and ss 
 just then delivered up to one of the court lords a rich orna- 
 ment, which I knew was designed for a present to an opera- 
 dancer, I was again assailed, but in a tenfold dei the 
 same intolerable delusion which I had before experienced. — 
 The ghost was inseparable wherever I went, and the diabolical 
 voice was always whispering in my oars. At length I took 
 possession of the house ; and. on the first night, atier I had 
 gone to bed, it was im possible for me to obtain a moment's re- 
 pose. I tossed and tumbled on my restless conch, and, in 
 my niind\s eye, beheld this man gliding through the streets 
 with my box of jewels in his hand, to the opera-dancer's 
 lodgings. My rage at this sight became so ungovernable, 
 that, about midnight, I stalled up, threw my mantle 1 1 
 my shoulders, went down by the secret staircase, and away 
 through the wall into the Rue de la Xicaise. From thence I 
 proceeded to the street in which the actress lived, where, as 
 if sent by the devil, the man to whom I had sold the neck- 
 lace soon afterwards fell in my way, and I directly attacked 
 him. At first, he uttered a loud cry, but grasping him firmly 
 by the throat, I struck the dagger right into his heart, so that 
 he fell without another word, and the jewels were mine S 
 
356 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 Having achieved this, I experienced a quiet and contentment 
 of mind, such as I had never before known. The ghost had 
 vanished, and the voice of the whispering devil was also mute. 
 My contentment, indeed, lasted but for a brief interval, till I 
 was called on again to make up and deliver an ornament of 
 equal value ; but, by this very relief and composure of spirit, 
 under circumstances which would have rendered any one else 
 anxious and miserable, I recognized at once the fate that 
 awaited me. My malignant stars were triumphant, and I 
 must yield to them or die ! — So, then,' concluded Cardillac, 
 ' you are now possessed of the master-key to all the mysteries 
 of my life and conduct. Do not suppose, because I am thus 
 irresistibly led on from crime to crime, that I have absolutely 
 renounced every feeling of humanity and compassion. You 
 know already how unwilling I am to part with any jewels 
 that I have made up ; how I keep them on one pretext or 
 another from week to week ; besides, when I am applied to 
 by persons, whose deaths it would be impossible for me to con- 
 template with indifference, it is an absolute rule of mine, that 
 I will not accept of sujoh employment. Nay, more* in many 
 instances, I have avoided the crime of murder, for, with ono 
 blow of my clenched hand, I am able to stun my victims in 
 such a manner, that they become altogether insensible ; and I 
 can, without risk, possess myself at once of the jewels, which, 
 alone, are my object.' 
 
 "After having thus spoken, Cardillao led me into a vaulted 
 apartment, (entering from the press in his room-wall,) and 
 allowed me to see his private collection of jewelry, than which 
 the king himself could not display anything more magnificent. 
 Every article had attached to it a parchment-ticket, $n which 
 there was inscribed for whom the ornament had been made, 
 and at what time it had been regained, either by theft within 
 doors, or street-robbery. ' On your wedding-day,' said Car- 
 dillac, in a deep stern voice, * you will swear to me on the 
 cross, a solemn oath, that, after my death, you will utterly 
 annihilate all these diamonds and other jewels ! They must 
 
cakdi^lac, the jeweller. 357 
 
 be turned into dust, by a chemical process, with which I shall 
 then make you acquainted. I am determined that no mortal, 
 and least of all, Madelon, or you, should come into possession 
 of treasures thus purchased by treachery and murder, lest, as 
 I fear, a curse should attend on such an inheritance. ' 
 
 "After these disclosures, I found myself lost in a labyrinth 
 tenfold more intricate than ever. My situation might almost 
 be* compared to that of the already condemned sinner, who 
 sees from afar a beneficent angel looking down with smiles 
 upon him ; but then Satan seizes him from below with his 
 scorching talons, and the beautiful aspect of the seraph be- 
 comes to him the most cruel of his torments. I thought indeed 
 of flight, nay, of self-murder. But then, what was to become of 
 Madelon ? You may indeed justly blame my conduct in this, 
 that I was too weak to contend against a passion, which obli- 
 ged me to conceal crimes, though I did not assist in their 
 perpetration. But enough ! The hour is near at hand, when 
 I am to atone for this by an ignominious and untimely death 
 on the scaffold. 
 
 " The rest of my story is soon told. One day it happened, 
 that Cardillac came homo wonderfully cheerful. He looked 
 at me with the most friendly aspect ; at dinner he indulged 
 himself in a bottle of wine, such as I had never known him 
 to use, except on high holidays ; he even began to sing old 
 songs, — in short, was rejoiced beyond measure. Madelon 
 left us, and I would have retired into the work-room. 4 Be" 
 main where }^ou are, young man ; ' said Cardillac, ' to-day 
 we are to have no more labor. Let us drink a glass together, 
 to the health of the most noble, the most witty, and most excel- 
 lent lady in all Paris.' When we had joined glasses to this 
 toast, and he had emptied a full bumper, { Olivier,' said he, 
 ' how dost thou like these verses 'i 
 
 "Un amant qui craint des voleurs, 
 N'est point digne d'amour." 
 
 After this question, he went on to relate what had happened 
 
 at the apartments of the Duchess de Maintenon, when the 
 
358 Hoffmann's strange btoriks. 
 
 king requested your opinion of the petition that had been 
 presented to him, for protection against the nightly assassins ; 
 — adding, that ever since he had heard of that occurrence, he 
 had cherished towards the lady de Scuderi the utmost respect, 
 gratitude and veneration ; and that you were endowed with 
 such pre-emiment virtue and talents, that, for the first time in 
 his life, he felt an influence, which could overpower that of 
 the malignant destiny to which he had been hitherto sub- 
 jected. Nay, so much was he impressed with these sentiments, 
 that if Mademoiselle de Scuderi were to bear on her person 
 the finest ornaments he had ever made, the whispering demon 
 of murder would never once tempt him to recover it. At 
 last, ' Mark you, Olivier,' said he, ' what I have now firmly 
 resolved to do. A considerable time since, I received an 
 order for a necklace and a pair of bracelets, from the Princess 
 Henrietta of England. I was not limited to any fixed price, 
 and succeeded in the work, even beyond my best expectations ; 
 but my heart was almost broken, when I thought that I must 
 part with these jewels, which, more than any that I had ever 
 made up, had ri vetted my affections. You know how that 
 princess fell by the hands of an assassin. Of course the jewels 
 remained unclaimed in my possession, and now, as a token of 
 my veneration and gratitude, I shall present them as a gift 
 from the supposed band of invisible robbers, to the lady de 
 Scuderi. Besides that she will by this means receive a flat- 
 tering proof of her triumphant influence over the King, I 
 shall at the same time express my contempt for Desgrais, and 
 his troop of catchpoles. You then, Olivier, shall be the 
 bearer of this present to her ladyship's house, and the sooner 
 that she receives it the better.' 
 
 " Even at the first mention of your name, it seemed as if 
 a dark veil were drawn aside, and I beheld again in all their 
 brightness and effulgence the delightful hopes and prospects 
 of my youth. Cardillac perhaps observed the impression 
 which his words had made on me, and interpreted it after his 
 o?7n manner. * You appear,' said he, * to approve of my 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 359 
 
 intention ; and I can assure you, an inward voice, very differ- 
 ent from that by which I was hitherto driven on like a furious 
 beast of prey, from one crime to another, has now prompted 
 me to this good action. Many times I am liable to strange 
 moods of mind ; — these come over me almost like a warning 
 from another world, the apprehension of some horrible and 
 yet unknown event, which seizes me so powerfully, that I can- 
 not shake it off. x\t such times, it appears to me as if those 
 deeds in which I was but the agent of a malignant and irre- 
 sistible destiny, might be reckoned against my own immortal 
 soul, though, in truth, that bears no share of the guilt. In 
 a state of mind like this, I once resolved to prepare a beauti- 
 ful diamond crown, for the blessed Virgin in the church of 
 St. Eustathius. But, instead of deriving comfort from this 
 design, I felt always more and more that indescribable terror 
 and perturbation stealing over me, and though I frequently 
 began the work, I could not persevere, but was at last obli- 
 ged to give it up altogether. Now, it appears to me, almost, 
 as if with an humble and contrite heart, I were to bring an 
 offering to the shrine of virtue and piety, and that I shall 
 obtain the mediation of a saint in my favor, if I send to de 
 Scuderi the finest ornament that I have ever elaborated.' — 
 Cardillac, who was well acquainted with your mode of life, 
 now informed me at what hour, and in what manner, I was to 
 deliver the jewels, which I immediately received from him 
 enclosed in an elegant case. My feelings were now quite 
 elated, and even rapturous ; for I thought that Providence 
 had pointed out to me, even through the wicked Cardillac, a 
 means of escaping from that horrid thraldom and abject slavery 
 under which I had so long suffered. Such were my private 
 thoughts, and quite against Cardillac's plans and wishes, I 
 determined that I would make my way to your presence. As 
 the son of Anne Brusson, and your former protege, I thought 
 of throwing myself at your feet, and revealing to you all that 
 had happened, well knowing that, from your goodness of 
 heart, you would, on Madelon's account, have preserved invi- 
 
3C0 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 olatc the secrets thus disclosed. Even without the necessity 
 of publishing his guilt to the world, I was impressed with 
 the belief that your powerful mind would have devised some 
 means to stop his frightful career, and to liberate Madelon 
 and myself from his tyranny ; though, what means could be 
 taken, my mind was too confused even to conjecture. Still I 
 had the most implicit confidence that you could assist us. It 
 is needless to repeat how my plans that night were frustrated ; 
 though I tried every means that I thought could force Mar- 
 tiniere to admit me into your presence ; but I did not give 
 up hopes of finding a better opportunity. 
 
 "All of a sudden, however, Cardillac seemed entirely to 
 have lost the cheerfulness and good humor which he had lately 
 assumed. He went about from room to room, silent and 
 gloomy, with his eyes staring on vacancy ; threw out his arms 
 as if demons and spectres were actually assailing him ; and 
 it was obvious that his mind was beset with some wicked 
 temptations. One morning, in particular, he had continued 
 for hours together in this disordered mood ; at length he seated 
 himself at his work-table, as if he would begin the usual task 
 of the day — but had no sooner taken his place than he started 
 up again and exclaimed, in a deep hollow tone, ' I wish from 
 my heart that Henrietta of England had lived to wear my 
 jewels ! ' These words inspired me with the utmost horror ; 
 for I well knew that his mind was laboring under the same influ- 
 ence which had led him into his former crimes, and that the 
 voice of Satan was again audible in his ears. I saw your 
 lite threatened by the reckless assassin, but at the same time 
 was perfectly aware that if he only had the jewels again in 
 his hands, you might be spared. Cardillac watched me so 
 narrowly, that I durst scarcely be a moment out of his sight : 
 however, I had intended, at all risks, to go to your house, 
 when one morning I luckily met you on the Pont Ncitf, 
 forced my way to your carriage, and •threw into it that billet, 
 which I had, ready written, and in which I conjured you to 
 give back the casket into Cardillae's hands. You never 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 361 
 
 came nor sent to his bouse, and my fears increased almost to 
 madness, when, on the following da}?, Cardillae could speak 
 of nothing else but certain magnificent jewels, finer than any 
 that the world had yet beheld, and which had been constantly 
 present to his mind's eye during the night. I had no doubt 
 that he alluded to your necklace and bracelets ; it was at all 
 events certain that his imagination was fixed on some plan of 
 murder, which, in all probability, he would try to execute on 
 the very same night- — and I determined to protect you at all 
 risks, though it should cost the life of Cardillae. Therefore, 
 when he had as usual read the vesper -service, and shut him- 
 self up in his bed-room, I made my way through a window 
 into the court, passed through the secret opening at the statue, 
 and took my station at a little distance, keeping as much as 
 possible in the shadow. No long interval had elapsed, when 
 Cardillae came out, and walked with his usual light, cautious 
 steps along the street. Just as on the night when I first dis- 
 covered his guilt, I now went after him, and my heart beat 
 violently, when I found that he was taking the route towards 
 the Rue St. Honor ee. We arrived there accordingly, and 
 all at once he disappeared. I could not find out his station 
 this time, and was at a loss what to do. I thought of plant- 
 ing myself at your door as a sentinel, but, precisely as on the 
 former occasion, there came up an officer gaily dressed, whist- 
 ling and singing, who went past without observing me. Al- 
 most in the same moment, the dark figure of the diabolical 
 Cardillae started forward, and being determined, if possible, 
 to prevent this murder, I rushed up just as they grappled 
 together. Short as the distance was, I came again too late ; 
 but this time the result was different ; it was not the officer, 
 but Cardillae, who fell motionless, and without a word, to the 
 ground ! — The former let fall the dagger, which he was still 
 grasping when I came up, drew his' sword, and took his 
 position on the defensive, believing no doubt that 1 was an 
 accomplice of the murderer ; but perceiving that I interested 
 myself only for his fallen victim, he turned round, and with- 
 31 
 
362 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 out speaking, hastened away. Oardillac was still living, and, 
 with infinite labor and exertion, I contrived to bear him home 
 on my shoulders, and convey him by the secret passage into 
 his own workshop. 
 
 " The rest is already known to you, and requires no farther 
 notice. You perceive that my only guilt consisted in my not 
 having had sufficient firmness and resolution to betray Made- 
 Ion's father to the officers of justice, and thus put an end at 
 once to his assassinations. In other respects I am wholly 
 blameless ; but no torture would force from me the disclosure 
 of his guilt, by which alone I could be cleared in the eye of 
 the law. It has hitherto been the merciful will of Providence 
 that the horrid truth should be withheld from Madelon ; there- 
 fore 1 shall never, in order to save my own life, withdraw the 
 veil by which her father's real character has been concealed. 
 
 " Could I endure the thought that she should behold the 
 remains of a parent, whom she so long loved and respected, 
 dragged from the tomb, and branded in the Place de Greve, 
 by the public executioner ?— No ! my dearest Madelon will 
 weep for me as one who died innocent, and time will alleviate 
 her sorrow ; but, were she at once to learn the whole truth, 
 the shock would be so unsupportable, that madness, perhaps, 
 would ensue — at all events, she could never, in this world, 
 be restored to peace of mind." 
 
 Olivier here broke off abruptly, and burst into tears. He 
 threw himself at de Scuderi's feet, and implored her compas- 
 sion. " You are convinced of my innocence," said he ; "I 
 know it must be so ! Have pity, then, on my sufferings, and 
 tell me how is Madelon ! " De Scuderi made no answer, but 
 rang for Martiniere, and in the next moment, Madelon was in 
 her lover's arms. " Now, all is well again," she exclaimed, 
 " for you ate here ! I was, indeed, sure that this noble 
 minded lady would find means to set you at liberty ! " Over 
 and over again were such expressions of joy and confidence 
 repeated by the poor girl, while Olivier too, appeared for the 
 time ^erfectlv happy, forgetting his own u.ojal situation, and 
 
CAKDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 363 
 
 the cruel fate that awaited him. Thereafter, both described 
 in the most moving terms the sufferings which they had mutu- 
 ally endured ; again they embraced, and. shed tears of rap- 
 ' ture, to find themselves once more united. Even if de Scu- 
 deri had not been already convinced of Brusson's innocence, 
 that scene must have established her belief beyond a doubt. 
 " No ! " said she to herself, " whatever la Regnie may main- 
 tain to the contrary, they are not criminal. It could only be 
 hearts that are wholly free from the torments of a guilty con- 
 science, that thus, in the deh'ghts of a mutual attachment, 
 forget the world, with all its miseries and misfortunes. " 
 
 The first rays of the morning light now broke through the 
 window. Desgrais knocked gently at the door of the room, 
 and reminded them that it was time for Brusson's removal, 
 as at a later hour this could not be done without attracting 
 attention. The lovers were therefore obliged to separate, and 
 their parting was such, that even the sternest heart could not 
 have contemplated the scene without emotion. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Satisfied as de Scuderi was of Brusson's innocence, her 
 gloomy anticipations of his approaching fate returned in all 
 their force after his departure — and, with heartfelt grief, she 
 beheld the son of her beloved Anne Guiot involved in such 
 inexplicable toils, that to save him seemed next to impossible. 
 She admired the heroio courage of the youth who wou]d 
 rather die loaded with unjust imputations, than betray a 
 secret, which, as he thought, would, more certainly than his 
 own fate, bring distraction and despair on the object of his 
 affection. Under these circumstances, she could not, within 
 the utmost limits of probability, find any means by which he 
 could escape the cruel sentence that would be passed against 
 him ■ yet she must not hesitate to make every exertion, or 
 sacrifice, if it were possible that such a horrid act of in- 
 
364 uoffikann's strange stories. 
 
 justice might bo prevented. She therefore kept her mind 
 on the rack with a hundred different schemes, some of which 
 were sufficiently romantic and extravagant, and all were at 
 length set aside as impracticable The rays of hope became 
 always fainter and fainter, so that she would have given up 
 the point in despair, had it not been that Madelon's boundless 
 and child-like confidence in her protectress, and the rapture 
 with which she spoke of her lover, who would now, as she 
 thought, be pronounced free from every charge against him, 
 kept her sympathy awake, and her attention on the stretch, 
 though, all the while, she felt wounded to the heart by the 
 consciousness of her own inability to realize these expectations. 
 
 In order that something, at least, might h6 tried, de Scuderi 
 wrote a long letter to la Regnie, in which she informed him, 
 that Brusson had, in the most convincing manner, proved to 
 her his innocence of Oardiilac's murder ; and that it was only 
 his heroic resolution,, of carrying with him to the grave a 
 secret, which, if revealed, might be the cause of grief and 
 despondency to another, who is wholly blameless, that had pre- 
 vented him, at his trial, from making a confession, such as 
 would at once have freed him from all suspicion. In writing 
 this letter, whatever could be effected by the most zealous 
 eloquence, and ingenious argument, was put in force by de 
 Scuderi, in order to soften the heart of la Regnie ; but, after 
 an interval of only half an hour, came his implacable answer, 
 stating that he was very glad to learn that Brusson had justi- 
 fied himself so completely in the opinion of his noble and 
 benevolent protectress ; but, as to the young man's heroic 
 resolution, of carrying with him a secret to the grave, he re- 
 gretted that, in a case of this kind, where a criminal had been 
 regularly committed, he could not approve of such heroism ; 
 on the contrary, the Cho.mbre Ardente would doubtless employ 
 the strongest means in their power to break through that ob- 
 stacle, and in a few days he hoped to be in possession of this 
 terrible secret, which would, no doubt, bring wonders to light. 
 
 De Scuderi knew but too well to what means the frightful 
 
CARBILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 365 
 
 la Regnie alluded, and by which he trusted to break the reso- 
 lution of the prisoner. It was now certain that the unfortu- 
 nate youth would be put to the torture, which measure her 
 letter, however well intended, would now rather tend to accel- 
 erate than retard. In the most miserable agitation, de Scuderi 
 bethought herself, that, in order even to obtain a short delay, 
 the assistance of a lawyer would be requisite. At that time, 
 Pierre Arnaud d'Andilly was the most renowned advocate in 
 Paris ; and his deep knowledge of his professional duties was 
 only to be excelled by his unimpeachable honesty, and severe 
 virtue. 
 
 De Scuderi, therefore, went to his house immediately, and 
 explained the situation in which Brusson was placed, as far 
 as it was possible to do so without openly betraying Cardillac's 
 guilt. She had supposed that the advocate would, with great 
 zeal, undertake the cause of the unhappy youth, but in such 
 expectations found herself bitterly disappointed. D'Andilly 
 listened quietly to all that she could say, and then answered 
 in the words of Boileau, — ''Le vrai pent quelquefois rCetre 
 pas vrai'Sembtable." He then demonstrated to de Scuderi, 
 that there was against Brusson the strongest grounds of sus- 
 picion, and that the proceedings of la Regnie were by no 
 means to be called rash and cruel; but, on the contrary, were 
 quite according to law, and, indeed, he durst not act otherwise 
 without infringing his dutios as a judge. For his own part, 
 he did not perceive how, by the cleverest defence which any 
 advocate could make^ Brusson could be saved from the torture. 
 It was only the young man himself who could bring about 
 this, either by a confession of his guilt ; or, if he really were 
 innocent, by a minute detail of the real circumstances which 
 led to the death of Cardillac, and thus perhaps afford some 
 grounds on which ho might be defended. "Then," said de 
 Scuderi, in a faltering voice, and bursting into tears, "I shall 
 throw myself at the king's feet — and implore him for mercy !" 
 "For heaven's sake, my lady," cried d'Andilly, do not try 
 this on the present occasion. Reserve the dernier resort, 
 31* 
 
366 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 which if it should fail you in one instance, is, of course, lost 
 to you forever. The king will never show favor to a criminal 
 of this class ; for, by so doing, he would, of necessity, draw 
 on himself the bitterest hatred of the people, who feel them- 
 selves every night in danger of their lives, if they venture 
 abroad. It is possible that Brusson himself may change his 
 mind, and, by a full or partial confession, will find means of 
 moving the judges in his favor." 
 
 Dq Scuderi found herself obliged to submit to the opinion 
 of the learned advocate, and returned home in very low spirits. 
 She was unable to divert her attention from the subject, and 
 was sitting alone in her chamber at a late hour of the night, 
 imploring one by one all the saints in the Calendar, that they 
 would assist her invention with some device to savo the un- 
 happy youth, when Martiniere entered, and announced a visit 
 from the Count de Miossen. This nobleman was well known at 
 court, as colonel of the king's Garde dHonneur, and having 
 earnestly requested an audience of the lady de Scuderi, was, 
 of course, admitted. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mademoiselle," said the Count, bowing with 
 military grace and politeness, "if I thus trouble you at an 
 inconvenient hour. We soldiers have no \ the time at our 
 command ; and besides, a few words will plead my apology. 
 It is on account of your protege, Olivier Brusson, that I have 
 come hither." 
 
 " Olivier Brusson ! " said de Scuderi, with her attention 
 on the utmost stretch, " what can you have to say of that 
 most unfortunate of mortals? " " I thought, indeed," said 
 de Miossen with a smile, " that the name of that youth would 
 procure me a favorable hearing, for though ail the world has 
 been convinced of his guilt, I am aware that you hold a dif- 
 ferent opinion, which is said to depend on the prisoner's own 
 assertions. With me the ease is altogether different, and no 
 one can be more perfectly certain than I am, (not even Brusson 
 himself,) that he is perfectly guiltless as to iho death of Car- 
 dillac." " Good heaven ! my lord Count," said de Scuderi, 
 
CAKDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 8G7 
 
 her eyes sparkling with joy, ' ' how have you obtained such 
 information ? Speak on, I entreat you." " My answer need 
 only be in three words," said de Miossen, with emphasis ; 
 " it was I- — I myself who struck the old goldsmith a mortal 
 blow in the Rue St. Honor ee, not far from your house." 
 
 11 The saints protect us ! " cried de Scuderi ; "You ?■ — you 
 indeed! it is impossible." "Nay," said de Miossen; "I 
 swear to you that, so far from looking on that action as a 
 crime, I believe that I have thereby rendered an especial ser- 
 vice to the whole city of Paris, and that I deserve the thanks 
 of every one of its inhabitants. I can assure you, Madem- 
 oiselle, that Cardillac was the most depraved and hypocritical 
 of villains, and that it was he alone who committed tho horrid 
 murders and robberies, escaping, as if by miracle, all the 
 snares that were laid for him. I scarcely know myself by 
 what means my own suspicions against the old miscreant were 
 first awoke, but when I heard of his eccentricities,, as they 
 were called, I always supposed that there was something 
 wrong in his character. However, it so happened that he 
 once came to me in visible inquietude and perturbation, with 
 a set of jewels which I had ordered, and on receiving pay- 
 ment, he begged to Jinow for whom I designed the present ? 
 I returned him a careless and indignant answer ; but after- 
 wards, in the most artful manner, he contrived to elicit from 
 my confidential servant at what hour I was in the habit of 
 visiting a certain lady. It had before occurred to me, as some- 
 thing very remarkable, that the victims of assassination who 
 were daily found in the streets, had all precisely the same sort 
 of wound, apparently inflicted by one and the same weapon. 
 X $ras quite certain that the murderer must have been, by 
 practice, accustomed to the blow, which was momentarily 
 mortal, and must have reckoned with certainty on its effect. 
 If that one blow should prove ineffectual, then there might be 
 a combat on an equal footing. This made me think of a pre- 
 caution, in its nature so simple, that I am surprised it did not 
 occur to others who could not have gone out at night without 
 
368 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 being apprehensive of the danger that awaited them. In 
 short, I put on a light coat of mail under my waistcoat, and 
 walked along the street at that hour which, as my servant had 
 informed him, was the usual time of my nightly assignations. 
 When I was drawing near to the lady's house, Cardillac, just 
 as I had expected, rushed up, and attacked me from behind. 
 He clasped me in his arms with gigantic strength ; but the 
 blow which he aimed, trusting as usual that it would prov^e 
 mortal, slid off from the coat of mail without doing me any 
 injury. At that moment I disengaged myself from his hold, 
 and having my stiletto ready in my right hand, struck it into 
 his heart." 
 
 "And you have been silent,' ' said de Scuderi, "and would 
 not announce these important truths to the Chambre Ar- 
 dente?" "I have been silent," answered Miossen, "and 
 your ladyship will please to remember, that such information, 
 if it did, not bring destruction upon my own head, must, at 
 least, have involved me in a terrible law process. Would la 
 Regnie, who suspects every one who falls in his way, of guilt 
 and hypocrisy, have believed me if I accused Cardillac, (who 
 was looked upon as a perfect model of regularity and devo- 
 tion,) of an attempt at murder? — Should I not rather, by 
 this means, have turned the sword of justice against myself?" 
 " Impossible," said de Scuderi, "your birth and rank must 
 have preserved you from such imputations." " Oh, ho ! " 
 replied de Miossen, " your ladyship forgets, then, the Marshal 
 de Luxembourg, who, because he had once taken it into his 
 head to have his fortune read by le Sage, brought on himself 
 the suspicion of wishing to poison all his acquaintances, and 
 was therefore thrown into the Bastile. No, — by St. Dennis ! 
 I would not surrender even a single hour of my personal lib- 
 erty into the power of la Regnie. I doubt not, that, if the 
 matter were at his own disposal, he would bring all our necks 
 to the block, tout d\m coup, without delay or discrimination." 
 
 " But. whatever is the character of la Regnie," said de 
 Scuderi, " could you have made up your mind on such prin- 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 369 
 
 ciples. to see the guiltless Bitissoq dragged to the scaffold ? " 
 " Guiltless ? " said de Miossen ; " could you then apply that 
 epithet to the friend and accomplice of the diabolical Cardillac? 
 To him, forsooth, who, no doubt, aided the assassin in all his 
 crimes, and who has, therefore, deserved an hundred-fold the 
 punishment that now awaits him ? — No, indeed ! He will 
 justly suffer on the scaffold ; nor was it from any wish to 
 rescue him that I made these disclosures ; — yet, at the same 
 time, if you can turn what I have said to the advantage of 
 your protege, — if, at least, means could be devised to save 
 him from the torture, I should rejoice, as I know that this 
 would be a satisfaction to your benevolent heart." 
 
 De Scuderi, overjoyed to find her own conviction of Oli- 
 vier's innocence thus confirmed, did not hesitate to repeat 
 to the Count the whole narrative, which the unfortunate 
 youth had entrusted to her, and to suggest, that they ought 
 immediately to go to the advocate D'Andilly. From him she 
 proposed that a solemn promise of secresy should be required, 
 and that they should afterwards be governed by his counsel 
 as to what remained farther to be done. 
 
 The meeting took place accordingly, and the advocate was 
 very particular in his enquiries of de Miossen, whether he 
 was absolutely certain that it was Cardillac, by whom he had 
 been attacked, and if he could swear to the personal identity 
 of Brusson, as the individual who had come up during their 
 encounter. (i Not only," said the Count, " did I recognize 
 the goldsmith's features by the moonlight, but I have also 
 seen, in the hands of la Ilegnie 3 the dagger with which Car- 
 dillac was struck. I can swear to its being mine, and it is 
 distinguished from all others, by the particular workmanship 
 of the hilt. As to the young man's countenance, his hat had 
 fallen off, and I was so near to him that I could recognize his 
 appearance again, even among a thousand people." 
 
 The advocate was silent for some minutes, and fixed his 
 eyes thoughtfully on the ground. At length he said, " In 
 an ordinary and regular way, Brusson cannot possibly be res- 
 
o70 Hoffmann's strange stojuus. 
 
 cued from the sentence that awaits him. On account of hid 
 attachment to Madclon, he will not accuse Card iliac as an 
 assassin. But this course he might follow, at all events, 
 beeause, if by an exposure of the secret passage, and tho col- 
 lected treasures, he were to prove the goldsmith's guilt, he 
 would not the less be looked on as an accomplice. The same 
 difficulties, of course, remain, though the Count de Miossen 
 were to reveal his adventures to the judge. Delay is, in short, 
 the only advantage we can hope for at present, and, in order 
 to obtain this, we must not speculate, but use, at once, the 
 means, however limited, that are within our power. With 
 this view, Count de Miossen may, if he pleases, go to the 
 Conciergerie, may have an interview with the prisoner, and 
 identify him as the person who came up to the assistance of 
 Cardillac. He may then go to la Begnie, and say, "I was 
 walking in the Rue St. Honor ee f and saw a man knocked 
 down. I ran to give my assistance, when another man started 
 out from the opposite side of the street, came up, and kneeled 
 beside him who had fallen, and as he found life not extinct, 
 took him up on his shoulders and carried him away. This 
 person's features were clearly visible to me in the moonlight, 
 and I have recognized them in Olivier Brusson." Should 
 the Count think proper to give in a deposition of this tenor, 
 it will, of course, bring on a new hearing in court, and the 
 deponent will be examined along with the prisoner. At all 
 events, it is satisfactory that the torture will be for the present 
 postponed, and farther investigations will be commenced. — 
 Then will be the proper time to make an application to the 
 king, — and this last must, of course, be entrusted to the 
 management of the lady de Scuderi, on whose good sense and 
 admirable talents success with his majesty must depend. In 
 my opinion it would be proper to reveal to him the whole 
 mystery. Brusson's confessions to you are fully supported by 
 the deposition of tho Count, and farther proof will probably 
 be gained by an examination of Cardillac' s house. All this, 
 however, could not warrant any favorable sentence of the 
 
 ' 
 
CABBILLAC, THE JEWELLER. 371 
 
 law ; but it may justify the interference of the king, who 
 can show mercy even in cases where the judge is necessitated 
 to condemn the prisoner." 
 
 D'Andilly's advice was accurately followed, and the conse- 
 quences were such as he had expected, the torture being 
 delayed, and a day appointed for a new hearing. Now the 
 proper time had arrived for having recourse to the king ; a 
 point on which de Scuderi could not help feeling timid and 
 anxious ; for such was the abhorrence that Louis had conceived 
 against Brusson, believing him to be one of the murderers by 
 whom all Paris was kept in a state of terror and agitation, 
 that, even on the slightest allusion to the delays that had taken 
 place at the trial, he fell into a tremendous passion. The 
 Marchioness de Maintenon, adhering firmly to her principles 
 of never speaking to the monarch upon any subject that was 
 disagreeable, refused to undertake the office of mediatrix, so 
 that Brusson's fate was left entirely in the hands of de Scu- 
 deri. After long reflection, she came to a resolution which 
 sho did not lose a moment in carrying into effect ; she dressed 
 herself for the occasion, in a black robe of heavy massive silk, 
 adorned herself with Cardillac's fine jewels, hung a lace veil 
 over the whole, and in this attire made her entree into the 
 chambers of de Maintenon, at the time when the king was 
 th*o. In such a dress, the dignified figure, and placid coun- 
 tenance of the noble poetess, failed not to inspire respect, 
 even among the mob of idle loungers, who, as usual, were 
 collected in the ante-room. All made way for her with the 
 greatest deference, and on her appearance in the audience 
 chamber, even the king himself was forcibly struck, and came 
 forward to meet her. 
 
 The valuable diamonds of the necklace and bracelets then 
 flashed so brightly, that they could not escape his notice, and 
 he exclaimed, by St. Dennis, that is jewelry of Cardillao's. — 
 Look only, Madame la Marquise," added he, turning to de 
 Maintenon, " how our beautiful bride mourns for the loss of 
 her betrothed husband!" — "Nay, Sire," answered de Scu- 
 
372 Hoffmann's stkange stories. 
 
 dcri in the same tone of badinage, l( how could it become a 
 mourning bride to adorn herself with these glittering jewels ? 
 No — no ! I have quite disengaged my affections from the 
 goldsmith, and would not think of him any more, were it not 
 indeed that his frightful figure, as he lay murdered, and was 
 carried close by me, so often recurs to my recollection." — 
 " How is this ? " said the king ; " you saw Cardillac then on 
 the night of the murder? " Be Scuderi now related in few 
 words, how chance (for she did not venture to speak of Brus- 
 son,) had brought her to the goldsmith's house, just after the 
 alarm of his death had been given. She described the wild 
 grief of Madelon, the deep impression that had been made 
 on her own mind by the appearance and conduct of the beau- 
 tiful girl ; in consequence of which she had rescued her from 
 the violent hands of Desgrais, and brought her away, followed 
 by the loud applause of the multitude. De Scuderi's tones 
 were clear and musical, and her eloquence was powerful.-— 
 She contrived always to give additional interest to the narra- 
 tive, and perceiving that Louis was favorably disposed, she 
 came to the scenes with la Regnie, with Desgrais, and at 
 length even with Olivier Brusson. The king had indeed 
 listened attentively to de Scuderi's story, insomuch that he 
 seemed to have quite forgot the irritability and anger which 
 he had before manifested, whenever any allusion was made 
 to that criminal. He never once checked the lady's discourse, 
 but occasionally, by his interjections of surprise or approval, 
 betrayed how deeply he was interested. Before Louis was in 
 the least aware of her intentions, and while he was under the 
 full impression of her eloquence, de Scuderi had thrown her- 
 self at his feet, and implored his royal clemency in behalf of 
 the unfortunate prisoner. 
 
 " What can all this mean, Mademoiselle ? " cried the king, 
 raising her up by both hands, and leading her to a chair. — 
 " You surprise me beyond measure. What you have now 
 related is indeed a very strange and affecting story, but who 
 can tell whether Brusson's confessions are really true, or mere 
 
CARMLLAC, THE JEWELLER. . 373 
 
 inventions of his own brain ? " To this de Scuderi answered 
 by referring to the deposition of Count de Miossen, — the ex- 
 amination of Cardillac's house, — her own inward conviction, 
 — the perfect innocence and goodness of heart shown by 
 Madelon, who could not have loved Brusson so ardently if he 
 had not also been guiltless. The king seemed much struck 
 by the earnest confidence of her manner, and was about to 
 answer, but at that moment Louvois the secretary, who had 
 been at work in an adjoining room, looked in with an anxious 
 countenance, and Louis, seeming to understand the signal, 
 immediately retired. De Scuderi and de Maintenon immedi- 
 ately glanced at each other, and thought that by this inter- 
 ruption all was lost ; for Louis, having had time to recover 
 from his first surprise, would doubtless take good care not to 
 be so much moved a second time. However, after a few 
 minutes, the grand monarque came again into the room, took 
 two or three turns up and down, then placed himself, with 
 his arms crossed, opposite to de Scuderi, and said, rather in a 
 low voice, without looking directly at her, " I should like for 
 once to see your protege, Madelon ! " " Oh, my gracious 
 liege ! " said de Scuderi, M what unspeakable condescension 
 do you vouchsafe towards that poor girl, and what happiness 
 will you confer upon her ! It only requires your Majesty's 
 approving signal in order to see the poor child even now at 
 your feet." 
 
 The king nodded in token of acquiescence, and de Scuderi 
 tripped away, as fast as her heavy dress would permit her, to 
 inform the attendants at the door that his Majesty desired to 
 see Madelon Cardillac in the audience chamber. On her 
 return she could not help bursting into tears, and sobbed 
 aloud, so deeply was she affected. She had, indeed, fondly 
 anticipated that the king's attention might be gained, and 
 had, with this view, brought Madelon along with her, who 
 was now waiting in one of the ante-rooms, with the dame 
 d'Honneur of the Marquis, and holding in her hand a little 
 petition, which had been drawn out for her by D'Andiliy, 
 32 
 
374 
 
 HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 In a few moments she made her entree, and threw herself 
 in silence at the king's feet. Agitated at once by fear, bash- 
 fulness, grief, and love, her heart beat so violently, that she 
 could not have uttered a word. Her cheeks were suffused 
 with the deepest blushes, and her eyes shone through tears, 
 that ever and anon fell through her long eyelashes, on her 
 snow-white bosom. It was obvious, that, from the first mo- 
 ment, the king was deeply struck with the wonderful beauty 
 of this angelic girL He raised her gently from the ground, 
 and even made a movement as if he would kiss the hand 
 which he still held ; he let it go, however, but looked at her 
 with an expression of embarrassment, that betrayed how deeply 
 he was affected. The Marchioness de Main tenon now whis- 
 pered to de Scuderi, " Is not her hair wonderfully like that 
 of la Valiere ? The king, too, seems to think so, and luxuri- 
 ates in sweet though melancholy remembrances ; your game 
 is won ! " Cautiously as de Maintenon pronounced these 
 words, yet in the stillness of the whole party, the king had 
 probably overheard them. He turned half round to the Mar- 
 quise, and a transient flush of displeasure came over his 
 features. He than read the short petition which Madelon 
 had brought with her, and said mildly and good humoredly, 
 " I believe, indeed, my dear child, that you are thoroughly 
 convinced of your lover's innocence, but we must yet hear 
 what the Chambre Ardente have to say on that head." A 
 wave of his hand implied that the poor girl might withdraw ; 
 and, as she retired, it was remarked that she could not help 
 bursting into a passionate flood of tears. 
 
 De Scuderi perceived, to her great dismay, that the recol- 
 lection of la Valiere, beneficial as it might have been at first, 
 yet, as soon as de Maintenon pronounced the name of that 
 lady, seemed to have quite a contrary effect. It might be 
 that Louis found himself by this means rather Irusquement 
 reminded, that he was about to sacrifice justice at the shrine of 
 beauty, or he might feel like a dreamer, who, when suddenly 
 awoke, sees the beautiful images that he had thought to grasp, 
 
CARDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. ' 375 
 
 fade at once into ehill reality. Now, perhaps, he no longer 
 beheld the young and blooming la Valiere, but only the sister 
 Louise de la Misericorde, (which was her name among the 
 Carmelite nuns,) who, with her piety and penitence, was by 
 no means an object suited to the lively disposition of the 
 monarch. What could henceforth be done to retrieve this 
 blunder ? It was a subject on which she dared not to speak, 
 and she could only wait in patience the king's unbiassed 
 determination. 
 
 The deposition of the Count de Miossen before the Chambre 
 Ardent e had now been made known in public, and as it 
 usually happens with the mob, who fly from one extreme to 
 another, the very same individual, who had before been de- 
 nounced as the most abominable of hypocrites and assassins, 
 and whom they had threatened to tear in pieces, if ho were 
 not immediately brought to the scaffold, was now mourned 
 and lamented over as the innocent victim of a barbarous and 
 unrelenting judge. Now, for the first time, the neighbors 
 began to recollect with what exemplary piety he had always 
 conducted himself among them, his regular attendance at 
 church, and the faithful industry with which he had served 
 the old goldsmith. Nay, great bands of people often assem- 
 bled in a threatening manner before the house of la Regnie 
 and shouted aloud, " We come to demand freedom for Olivier 
 Brusson — bring him out to us immediately, for he is inno- 
 cent ! " At last they began to throw stones at the windows ; 
 so that la Regnie was obliged to send to the Marechaussee 
 for protection. 
 
 Several days passed over, and de Scuderi had not received 
 any intimation how the process was going on. Quite restless 
 and miserable, she at last betook herself to de Maintenon, 
 who assured her that the king had never said one word on the 
 subject, and that it would be by no means prudent to remind 
 him of it. Afterwards, when she inquired with an ironical 
 smile for the little la Valiere, de Scuderi was convinced •that, 
 in this proud woman's heart, there existed some feeling of 
 
37(5 Hoffmann's strange stories, 
 
 jealousy or vexation, by which the king might easily be led 
 astray from all his good intentions. From de Maintenon, 
 therefore, she could not for the future entertain any hopes of 
 assistance. 
 
 At last, with the help of D'Andilly, she was able to dis- 
 cover, that Louis had had a conference with the Count de 
 Miossen ; farther, that Bontems, the monarch's confidential 
 chamberlain, had been sent to the Concur gerie, and had 
 spoken with Brusson ; afterwards, that private examinations 
 had been carried on at the house of Cardillac, where the old 
 gentleman Claude Patru deponed, that, through the whole 
 night on which Cardillac was murdered, he had heard an ex- 
 traordinary noise over his head, and that Olivier must certainly 
 have been there, for he had distinctly heard his voice, &c. 
 So much at least was certain, that the king had ordered the 
 most accurate inquiries to be made into the evidence for and 
 against Brusson ; but it was inconceivable how the matter was 
 so long of coming to any termination. La Regnie would no 
 doubt try every method to hold fast within his own power the 
 victim who thus threatened to escape from him ; and, when 
 de Scuderi reflected on this man's chararcter, she almost lost 
 hope. Nearly a monti had passed away, when a message was 
 brought to the lady, that the king wished to see her, the same 
 evening, at the chambers of de Maintenon. De Seuderi's 
 heart beat violently, for she knew that Brusson's trial must by 
 this time be decided. She mentioned this to the poor Made- 
 Ion, who prayed zealously to the blessed Virgin and all the 
 saints, that whatever the judge's sentence might have been, 
 the king at least might be inspired with a conviction of her 
 lover's innocence. 
 
 For some time, however, after de Seuderi's appearance in 
 the Marchioness's rooms, his Majesty seemed to have forgotten 
 the whole affair, for, as on former occasions, occupying himself 
 in lively discourse with the ladies, he did not allude, by a 
 single syllable, to the unhappy prisoner. At last, however, 
 Bontetns appeared, went up to the monarch, and said a few 
 
CAKDILLAC, THE JEWELLER. * ot t 
 
 words in a voice so low, that their import was unintelligible 
 to the bystanders, though, as the name Brusson was audible, 
 de Scuderi trembled, but she was not long kept in suspense. 
 Louis arose, and came to her with joy unaffectedly gleaming 
 in his eyes, "I congratulate you, Mademoiselle,' ' said he, 
 "your protege', Olivier Brusson, is free ! " De Scuderi, who 
 was too much affected to utter a word, would have thrown 
 herself at his feet in her gratitude, —but Louis prevented her. 
 "No, no! my lady," said he, " I have not deserved such 
 homage, for it is to your exertions that this result is owing. 
 You should, in truth, be my advocate in the chamber of peers, 
 and carry on all my pleas, for there is no resisting your 
 eloquence. Yet," added he, in a more serious tone, " who- 
 ever is under the protection of genius and virtue, may indeed 
 be safe, in spite of the Chambre Ardente, and all the courts 
 of justice in the world." De Scuderi now found words, and 
 in the most glowing terms expressed her gratitude. The king 
 interrupted this, reminding her that far more ardent thanks 
 now awaited her in her own house than he had any right to 
 look for, as by that time Madelon was probably clasped in the 
 embraces of hor fortunate lover. "Bontems," concluded 
 the monarch, " shall disburse one thousand Louis (Tor, which 
 I beg of you to give in my name to the poor girl, as a wed- 
 ding dowry. She may marry this Olivier Brusson, who, 
 whether innocent or guilty, is probably far from deserving such 
 good fortune ; but, then, both of tbem must leave Paris. 
 That is our fixed will and resolve, from which we shall cer- 
 tainly not depart." 
 
 On de Scuderi's return home, Martiniere came in a great 
 hurry to the door, and behind her was Baptiste, both of them 
 with looks of the utmost delight, and exclaiming, "He is 
 free — he is free ! — oh ! the dear happy young bride and bride- 
 groom ! " The lovers now threw themselves at de Scuderi's 
 feet — " Oh ! I knew very well, that you,— you alone would 
 save my beloved husband! " cried Madelon. "And my con- 
 fidence in the kind protectress of my infancy," said Olivier. 
 
378 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 44 was never for a moment abated." They kissed the hands 
 of the venerable lady, declaring that the happiness of that 
 moment far more than compensated for all their sufferings ; 
 then they wept in their great joy, and vowed that nothing but 
 death should again effect their separation. 
 
 After a few days, they were united by the holy rites of the 
 church, and even, though it had not been the king's command, 
 Brusson would not have remained in Paris, where all the 
 scenes reminded him of Cardillae's crimes, and where a trifling 
 chance might bring to light the horrid mysteries which were 
 already known to several individuals. Immediately after his 
 wedding, therefore, he went, followed by the blessings of de 
 Scuderi, to Geneva, where being well established in the world 
 by Madelon's dowry, and clever in his profession, he led 
 henceforward a contented happy life, free from care and 
 vexation of every kind, so that for him all those hopes were 
 realized, in which his father had even to his dying day been 
 disappointed. 
 
 About a year after Brusson's departure, a public advertise- 
 ment appeared at Paris, signed by Harley, de Chavelon, 
 archbishop, and the advocate Pierre Arnaud D'Andilly, to 
 the effect, that a repentant sinner under the zeal of confession, 
 had given over to the church a treasure of gold and diamonds 
 which he had gained by robbery. Every person, therefore, 
 who, from about the end of 1680, had been robbed of property 
 on the streets, should come to the chambers of D'Andiliy, 
 where, if their description of what they had lost accorded 
 exactly with that of any jewel in his possession, they would 
 immediately obtain it again. Many, therefore, who were noted 
 in Cardillac's list as not murdered, but only stunned by a 
 blow of his powerful arm, came one after another to the ad- 
 vocate, and, to their no small astonishment, received back the 
 jewels. The rest were given up as a present to the church of 
 St. Eustathius. 
 
THE PHARO BANK. 
 
 u CHAPTER L 
 
 Prymont, during the summer of 18 — , was frequented more 
 than ever by foreign visitors, who have gold in abundance, 
 and the time to spend it. It was a good year for speculators 
 of all kinds who seek their fortunes in the pockets of others. 
 The bankers at games of chance, to better attract the new 
 guests whom they counted upon plucking, had secretly raised 
 their batteries, and the green cloths were astonished at the 
 piles of ducats which sparkled in the light of the wax candles 
 to tempt the cupidity of barons of all countries. The bath- 
 ing season adds new activity every year to the gambling 
 houses, a power of attraction which is irresistible. There are 
 some people who, during the whole year have not touched a 
 card, and who pass hours and days there around the table 
 like professed gamblers. The fashion requires besides this 
 that all the people who follow it should know how to lose a 
 few pieces of gold gracefully every evening. Nevertheless, 
 this irresistible charm had not been able to seduce a young 
 gentleman baron whom we shall call Siegfried. Instead of 
 following the general rule, our friend preferred long evening 
 walks amid the picturesque views of the country j often he 
 remained shut up in his room, occupying his melancholy 
 leisure with reading or meditations which it would havo been 
 difficult for the most cunning to guess the secret of. 
 
380 Hoffmann's stkangk stories. 
 
 Our hero was young, handsome and well put together, rich 
 and of romantic stock, as are nearly all the heroes of romance. 
 There was related concerning him a thousand gallant adven- 
 tures from which he came off crowned with honor : and the 
 old people who had known him from his birth were never 
 tired of repeating, amongst others, the following story ; 
 
 Siegfried, before arriving at an age when the law gave him 
 full disposition of his property, found himself once on a time, 
 travelling over hills and through valleys, like a son of noble 
 family, but with such lack of funds, that, to pay his bill at 
 the inn, he was forced to try and sell his gold watch garnished 
 with precious stones. But, instead of having to make this 
 bargain with some thieving and miserly Jew, he met a young 
 lord, who having long desired to possess a watch of this descrip- 
 tion, bought it without hesitation. One year afterwards, 
 Siegfried read in a gazette of a watch to be put up in a lottery ; 
 he took a ticket and won ; this watch was the one that he 
 had sold. A little while afterwards he exchanged it for a 
 ring that he fancied. Shortly after this he entered the service 
 
 of Prince G , as private secretary, and the first present 
 
 that his highness offered him was again the same watch set 
 with precious stones, and accompanied, this time, by a chain 
 which greatly enhanced its value. I know not how it was 
 that m relating this anecdote the strong dislike that Siegfried 
 manifested towards all games of chance was always spoken of, 
 and many concluded from this that the fine nobleman was 
 miserly to the last degree. There was in this calumny suf- 
 ficient show of reason to pique his self-esteem. So to give a 
 forcible denial to this slander, he went into the pharo bank, 
 with the determination to play and lose all his money. But 
 fortune was in his favor, and continued so obstinately faithful to 
 him, that in spite of the boldest risks, with the least calcula- 
 tion, he won considerable sums ; and at each stake that he 
 pocketed, great was the surprise of the players at seeing the 
 spite which he appeared to feel towards his great luck. The 
 result of this was, that all those who had at first proclaimed 
 
TR"E PHAR0 BANK. ' 381 
 
 him a miser agreed in saying that ho was mad. The inexpli- 
 cable continuance of his luck made him contract the habit, 
 and soon after the passion for play. He became in a short 
 time infatuated. 
 
 One evening, as the banker had just finished dealing, Seig- 
 fried, on raising his eyes, saw a middle aged man opposite* 
 who fixed upon him a cold and serious look ; the impression 
 of this look became stronger every time our hero ceased to 
 follow the game ; the eye of the unknown was always there, 
 wild and penetrating as a dagger. 
 
 This strange personage did not leave his place to go out of 
 the room, until all of the gold on the table had disappeared. 
 
 The following day he came and seated himself in the same 
 place, and fixed the same look upon Seigfried. It was a dia- 
 bolical fascination from which the young baron could not free 
 himself. Finally, tired of this persistance, he arose and said 
 to him : — " Sir, I beg that you will choose some other place 
 or cease to look at me ; you interrupt my play." The un- 
 known smiled sadly, saluted Siegfried, and went out of the 
 room without answering. 
 
 But the following night, Siegfried found him again opposite, 
 standing in the same attitude that he ordinarily took ; this 
 time his eye had in it something more penetrating. 
 
 Siegfried felt the color come into his face j the pertinacity 
 of a man whom he did not know, and with whom he did not 
 care to become acquainted, appeared insulting to him. 
 
 " Sir," said he to him in such a manner as to be heard by 
 all present, " if it pleases you to look at me thus, it is not 
 pleasant for me to suffer it any longer." 
 
 And, saying this, by an imperious gesture, he pointed to 
 the door of the saloon, as if to intimate to his unknown enemy 
 the order to go out. 
 
 The stranger smiled sadly as at first, saluted him without 
 saying a word, and retired. 
 
 The excitement produced by the play and the winnings, 
 added to several warm libations, made Siegfried unable to 
 
382 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 sleep. Towards daylight, as he was moving about on his 
 couch without being able to repose, it suddenly seemed to 
 him that he saw the shadow of the mysterious unknown ap- 
 pear before him. It was the same face wrinkled by grief ; 
 it was the same deep and devouring look. His poor habili- 
 ments showed, nevertheless, the style of a gentleman, who 
 must have seen better days ; and Siegfried remembered with 
 regret that he had treated him thus cavalierly. He finally per- 
 suaded himself that the physiognomical expression of the un- 
 known betrayed the anguish of a secret misery augmented by 
 the aspect of a man still rich and whom fortune amused her- 
 self by goring with gold at a green covered table. He re- 
 solved to go and seek the stranger, cordially ask pardon for his 
 rudeness, and offer him his assistance as delicately as possible. 
 
 It chanced that the first person that Siegfried met the next 
 morning on the bather's promenade was this very stranger. 
 
 " Sir," said he to him, " I was one or two days ago rude 
 and impolite towards you. I beg that you will allow me 
 apologize." The stranger answered that Siegfried owed hini 
 no reparation ; that all the wrong, if there were any, was on 
 his part. 
 
 Baron Siegfried, piqued by the cool deportment of the gen- 
 tleman, commenced, for the purpose of sounding him, talking 
 about certain embarrassments in life which render the charac- 
 ter hard, and cause the involuntary forgetfulness of what is 
 due to courtesy. He tried to make the stranger understand, 
 with all the skilfulness in such a case, that he should be happy 
 to place at his service the sum he had won, if his luck at play 
 could be transferred. 
 
 " Sir," answered the stranger, "you take me for a poor 
 devil, and you are doing an act of liberality ; but I am not 
 yet deprived of all resources, for I have so few wants that it 
 is easy for me to satisfy them at a trifling expense. If you 
 think that you have offended me, it is not money that can 
 sooth the pain that you have occasioned me." 
 
 " I think that I understand you," replied the baron, calmly, 
 
THE PIIARO BANK. 
 
 383 
 
 " and I am at your disposal for any satisfaction that you are 
 pleased to require.' ' 
 
 4 'Good heaven, my dear sir," continued the unknown, 
 " the chances of a duel between us would be very unequal. 
 A duel besides appears to me, in general, but a poor game, in 
 which children hurt themselves. But there are certain cir- 
 cumstances in life in which the earth becomes too narrow for 
 two men, and when even one of these men lived on Caucasus 
 and the other on the banks of the Tiber, one of them must 
 be effaced from among the living to allow the other to breathe 
 at ease. In these very rare cases a duel, but a duel without 
 mercy, may become useful, indispensable. As for ourselves, 
 I do not think that we are reduced to this experiment. A 
 single combat would be madness. If I killed you, I should 
 put an end perhaps to days, rich in hope and expectation ; if 
 
 I should fall, you would have put an end to a deplorable ex- 
 istence. You therefore see that the chances would never be 
 equal. Besides, to put an end to this discussion, I assure you 
 that I do not consider myself insulted. You desired me to 
 leave the room, and — I yielded to your wishes — that is all." 
 
 The stranger's accent in uttering these words revealed, in 
 spite of his efforts to conceal it, an innate suffering against 
 which he tried in vain to struggle. Siegfried renewed more 
 urgently his frank protestations, accounting for his anger by 
 attributing it to the painful impression produced upon him by 
 the singularly sad look of the stranger. 
 
 "May then this look," exclaimed the old man, "remain 
 forever graven upon your memory to preserve you from the 
 dangers which threaten your future. Distrust the uncertainty 
 of gaming before it is too late to throw off the fascination 
 which it already exercises upon you : for in less time than 
 you would believe, I see you ruined and your honor lost ! " 
 
 The baron could not refrain from repulsing this fatal threat ; 
 
 II all that he should lose amounted," he said, " to two hundred 
 louis d'or ; and his pertinacity in playing only proceeded 
 from a formal vow he had taken to triumph over his luck at 
 play, which was tiresome to him beyond all expression." 
 
384 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed the stranger, "it is precisely that 
 accursod luck which loads you towards destruction. The 
 interest of curiosity which you take in it will change into a 
 delirium of avarice, into a madness for betting, as soon as 
 you shall once have seen your money disappear under the 
 banker's rake or into the pockets of your neighbors. Your 
 manner of doing and acting at the pharo table recalled to me, 
 the bygone days, the unfortunate destiny of a young man 
 who started in this fatal career under the same auspices as 
 yourself. That is the reason, my dear sir, why I contemplated 
 you the other day with so earnest a look ; I remembered a 
 life crushed in its flower by the most atrocious passion which 
 has ever ravaged the heart of man. Stay, since we have 
 become acquainted, allow me to relate you this story, not to 
 offer you a lesson, but to give you the advice of a friend, 
 illustrated by an example/ ' 
 
 He then seated himself upon a stone bench shaded by elm 
 trees which bordered the promenade ; Baron Siegfried took a 
 place by his side, and here is what was related to him : — 
 " Chevalier Menars possessed like yourself, baron, the most 
 distinguished qualities of mind and heart. Nature, in creating 
 him to succeed, had only treated him without liberality as far 
 as the gifts of fortune are concerned. His situation was near 
 to want, and it was only by force of economy that he could 
 meet the expenses required by his rank. But if he could 
 not allow himself the pleasure of gaming, at least he was 
 sheltered from the attacks of this dangerous passion. Living 
 thus, without sacrifices and position, he could very nearly 
 pass for a happy man. 
 
 A certain night some friends succeeded in leading him to a 
 gaming house. The game was going on before his eyes, but 
 he followed the chances of it with an impassibility which 
 would have done honor to the gods; he saw, without frowning 
 piles of ducats roll on the table, then disappear under the 
 banker's rake, " Zounds ! " suddenly exclaimed an old 
 colonel, u there is the chevalier Menars, a lucky man if there 
 
THE PIIARO BANK ■ 3S5 
 
 be such. If he would bet for me, I would break the bank 
 immediately." 
 
 It was in vain that the chevalier refused, he was obliged to 
 yield to the wishes of the colonel, and take his place at the 
 green table. Unspeakable chance guided his play, so that in 
 a short time he had won a considerable sum for the colonel. 
 But instead of taking pleasure himself in the emotions of the 
 game, he felt his antipathy for this diversion increase from day 
 to day, and he took the resolution never to set foot in any gam- 
 ing house again. The colonel, who was always unlucky, 
 made useless efforts to induce him to return to his assistance ; 
 and it was necessary, to put an end to the importunities of 
 this mad gamester, that the chevalier Menars should formally 
 announce that he would rather fight a thousand duels than to 
 touch another card during his life. 
 
 A year from that time the arrival of the miserable sum 
 of money which provided poorly for the subsistence of poor 
 Menars, having been retarded by some accident, he fell into 
 the most cruel penury, and, in spite of the stragglings of self- 
 esteem, he found himself obliged to call upon a friend's purse, 
 who, at least on this occasion, did not hesitate to assist him, 
 only reproaching him with not knowing how to use the re- 
 sources that his luck at play might create for him. This 
 remark, made by chance, and at a time when poverty so closely 
 pressed upon him, made chevalier Menars reflect ; and every 
 night he heard buzzed in his ears the accursed words used in 
 gaming houses, and especially in the pharo banks. The 
 sound of gold pieces vibrated about him everywhere ; it was 
 a diabolical temptation. Honest Menars reasoned with him- 
 self ;—" One single night, 9t said he to himself, " might with- 
 draw me from misery and make the fortune of my whole life ; 
 instead of depending upon my friends, I could myself some- 
 times come to their aid ; and then I should be considered, 
 respected, honored ! For ail this it is only necessary to 
 abandon myself to destiny, to chance.'' 
 
 The lending friend, who heard him speak in this manner 
 33 
 
o8G HOFFMANNS STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 took him at his word, and slipped into his pocket twenty golden 
 louis to lead him to the pharo bank. Menars played and won 
 a thousand golden louis without study, and without combina- 
 tion of the cards. He played blind man's buff with fortune ; 
 she allowed herself to be caught with exceeding good will. 
 
 When the chevalier awoke, the morning after this feverish 
 night, in his own room, his first glance fell upon the piles of louis 
 ranged with care upon his dressing table. He thought at first 
 that he was dreaming ; he stretched out his arm to draw the 
 table nearer ; then his hand caressed the seductive little pieces 
 which shone coquettishiy in the first rays of the rising sun. — 
 The sensation that he then felt decided the course of his life. 
 The poison of avarice penetrated his veins : Menars became 
 suddenly an unbridled gamester, and waited with gnawing 
 impatience the hour for the opening of the gambling houses 
 every evening. Luck was faithful to him, and in a few weeks 
 he had won enormous sums. From this time the chevalier 
 thought no one worthy of risking a few ducats against his 
 heaps of gold. He wanted a broader stage of action ; he opened 
 a bank, which became in a short time the richest in Paris. The 
 gamesters flocked to it, and the fortune of Menars took up 
 its abode there. But the gambler's irregular life wore away 
 day by day the heart and soul of the poor man. And there 
 soon remained in him but little of the gentleman ; he was 
 now nothing more than a sordid, avaricious gambler. It hap- 
 pened one night that his luck began to turn against him. A 
 little dried up old man, badly dressed, approached the green 
 table, and timidly threw down on a card a well worn louis. — 
 He lost, made his bet again, and lost again ; it lasted thus 
 for some time, until the old man, who, in spite of his losses, 
 always doubled his bets, finally lost at a single deal five hun- 
 dred golden louis. 
 
 " Good God ! Signor Vertua," exclaimed one of the play- 
 ers ; " go on, I beg of you ; for, at the game you are playing 
 so well, a chance will come for you, you will break the bank ! " 
 
 The old man threw a wild look at the man who spoke thus, 
 
THE PIIAEO BANK. 
 
 387 
 
 then be disappeared for a time ; but be was soon seen again, 
 uprigbt in bis place, and well provided witb fresh pieces of 
 gold, wbicb successively went to join tbe first. 
 
 At tbe end of tbe play, cbevalier Menars stopped tbe 
 player wbo bad laugbed at tbe old man, and reproached him 
 with compromising the calmness and dignity which ought to 
 reign in the house. 
 
 " What ! " answered the gamester, " you do not yet know 
 old Francesco Vertua ; otherwise you would have found our 
 jests quite natural ; know, my dear friend, that this old man 
 Vertua, born at Naples, but who for fifteen years has worried 
 the streets of Paris, is the most rascally usurer on the face of 
 the earth, and I know a thousand individuals whose substance 
 he has swallowed up. It is but just that in his turn he should 
 know by experience what the misery is to which he has reduced 
 so many families. This is tbe first time that this individual 
 pushes himself into a gambling house \ but as the followers 
 of Satan doubt nothing, the idea has come into his head to 
 break your bank, and, without counting chances, he has per- 
 sisted in losing his last piece of money. This time, at least, 
 I hope that he will not be seen again, aad that he will seek 
 in some other place the means of repairing his fortune." 
 
 Nevertheless, the following night, Vertua reappeared, played, 
 and lost more than he had the night before. This new reverse 
 of fortune did not diminish bis immovability ; a smile of bitter 
 irony only curled his lip. Each of tbe following nights still 
 saw him at his post, and he lost unceasingly ; it was calcu- 
 lated that at tho end of the week he had passed over to the 
 banker thirty thousand louis. Several days then elapsed 
 without his being seen ; but one evening be came, pale and 
 in disorder; be watched the game for some time without 
 speaking, but with sparkling eyes. Then, at the moment 
 when Menars was about to make & new deal, Vertua made 
 his way to his side, and whispered these words hoarsely in his 
 ear :— " Sir, I possess in Rue St. lionore, a ricbly furnished 
 house ; I have gold plate and jewels to the amount of eighty 
 thousand dollars. Will you take the stake ?" 
 
388 
 
 HOFFMANN 8 STRANGE STORIES, 
 
 4 'Let it be so," answered Menars, without turning his 
 head, and he continued the deal. " The queen ! n exclaimed 
 the usurer. The queen loses. Vertua staggered like a 
 drunken man, and leaned against the wall, cold and immova- 
 ble as a statue. Nobody paid any farther attention to him. 
 When the hour for closing the gambling room had arrived, 
 Vertua revived, and dragging himself with faltering footsteps 
 towards the banker, il Mr. Menars," said he to him, M I have 
 a word more to say to you." 
 
 " Do it quickly, I am in a hurry," answered Menars in a 
 disdainful tone, drawing the key from his safe and putting it 
 in his pocket. " Sir," continued the old man, " my whole 
 fortune has passed into your hands ; I have nothing left ; I 
 do not know where I shall lay my head to-morrow, nor how I 
 shall procure a morsel of bread. Well, it is to you that I 
 have recourse. Lend me the tenth part of the sum which 
 you have won from me this last week, so that I can be able 
 to begin business again and try and earn my poor living." 
 
 "Are you mad ? " interrupted Menars. " Do you imagine 
 that a banker ever lends money to gamblers whom he has 
 broken ? " 
 
 " You are right," replied the old man ; "but the money 
 that I ask of you is not for the purpose of playing against 
 you." 
 
 " What matters it! " said Menars, " I do not lend." 
 
 u Well then, my worthy sir," continued the old man, whose 
 paleness became more livid, " well then do not lend to me ) 
 give me alms." 
 
 "Alms! go and ask of those whom your infamous usury 
 has reduced to misery and want." 
 
 At these words old Vertua hid his face in his hands, and 
 fell on his knees weeping bitterly. Chevalier Menars had his 
 safe in which was secured his golden gains, carried to his 
 carriage, he then said coldly to the usurer: — u When do you 
 intend, signer Vertua, to give me possession of your house, 
 your plate and jewels ? " 
 
THE PHAB.0 BANK. 389 
 
 •'This very moment," exclaimed Vertua. regaining, as if 
 by the aid of a spring, his firmness. " Come, sir, follow me!" 
 
 "In that case," continued Menars, "jny carriage can 
 take us both there, and I will give you until to-morrow to 
 vacate," 
 
 On the road they both kept a mournful silence. When 
 they had arrived, Vertua rang the bell sofciy ; an old woman 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Jesus be thanked ! " exclaimed she, "you have come at 
 last ! my poor young lady Angela is in great anxiety." 
 
 " Silence ! " said Vertua in a whisper. " May it be that 
 she ha3 not heard the bell ; Angela mugt be ignorant of my 
 return." 
 
 When he was alone with the chevalier, in an out of the 
 way room, — " I have a daughter, sir," said he to him ; " this is 
 all that remains K) me of an existence which might have been 
 happy, if I had not become a victim of the passion for gambling. 
 I formerly travelled over half of Europe, opening pharo banks 
 everywhere, and winning, as you have done, enormous sums. 
 God only know3 how many fortunes I have reduced to noth- 
 ing, as pitilessly as you have swallowed up mine to-day. — 
 Heaven is just, I am well punished. It is not for myself 
 that I regret fortune, but it is for Angela, for my daughter, 
 the last object of my affection, whom I have just condemned 
 to a frightful indigence ; she is innocent of my faults, and 
 ought not to have borne the punishment of my passions. — 
 Alas ! sir, will you not allow my daughter to carry away her 
 clothing, her ornaments? " 
 
 "In no manner do I oppose it," answered the chevalier ; 
 " you can carry away the household utensils that are indis- 
 pensible to you. I do not pretend to exercise my right on 
 anything except upon the real property that you declared to 
 me." 
 
 The old man Vertua fixed his moistened eyes upon the 
 chevalier without speaking a single word. Finally, overcome 
 by emotion, he burst out into weeping and moaning, and. 
 33* 
 
890 HOFFMANN *8 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 dragging himself on his knees before the chevalier, — " Sir," 
 cried he to him beseechingly, " if you have any feeling of 
 humanity left, take pity on my poor child ; lend her, in order 
 that she may live, the twentieth part of my fortune that fate 
 has thrown into your hands." 
 
 " Ah ! decidedly," replied the chevalier, "this comedy is 
 tiresome and annoying — let us end it ! " 
 
 At this moment the door is opened ; a young girl, in tears, 
 half dressed, threw herself into the room where this scene 
 was passing. " My father ! my father ! " exclaimed she, "I 
 have heard everything. You have then lost all ? all ? And 
 your Angela, you forgot her ! You did not think then that 
 the day you became unfortunate you would have a daughter 
 left to love you and take care of you in your old age ! I 
 will work for your support, my father ; come, let us quit this 
 house, let us fly from the sight of this cruel man who gloats 
 over your despair ; we shall find some home where, with my 
 labor, and the assistance of God, I shall be able to place you 
 at your ease." 
 
 Before this picture of angelic filial piety, chevalier Menars 
 felt the sting of remorse penetrate his soul. It seemed to 
 him that he saw in this beautiful young girl the angel chosen 
 by heaven to condemn his hardness of heart. He could not 
 bear the energetic look of Angela, who treated him thus 
 scornfully. She was so admirably beautiful, that it was im- 
 possible to see her thus without feeling the ardor of extreme 
 love. Chevalier Menars remained as if fascinated by the 
 magnetism of this apparition ; and pointing with his finger to 
 a casket that a servant had just brought into the room, he 
 exclaimed :— " Take back this accursed money ; I did not 
 win it ; I cannot keep it, I will give you even more. Take 
 
 it, take it " 
 
 But Angela proudly repulsed this concession; — "It is 
 not," said she, " either gold or fortune that assures the happi- 
 ness of God's nobly endowed creatures ; carry off those vile 
 riches for which you sacrifice without shame all that men hold 
 
THE P1IAR0 BANK. . 391 
 
 sacred. Go, and may they surround you with a curse that 
 nothing shall efface." 
 
 "Yes," then exclaimed chevalier Menars, beside himself; 
 " yes, I am accursed, I know it ; but can you really pro- 
 nounce a curse without hope ! Oh, Angela, the sight of you 
 alone has caused an inexpressible change in me ; but you 
 cannot and will not understand me ; but yet it imports, to 
 me, death or life. For I love you, Angela, I feel it and I 
 cannot refrain from it. I can renounce, for your sake, my 
 gambler's life. I can, with the gold that I possess, expiate 
 my past life by benefiting all around me. But if I do not 
 succeed in gaining your good opinion, you will soon see me 
 fall dead at your feet ! " and, under the influence of this fiery 
 exaltation, chevalier Menars sprang out of the room like a 
 madman. Old Vertua, who first thought of the necessity of 
 regaining his fortune, wished to try this opportunity, and 
 pressed Angela to become the chevalier's guardian angel. — 
 But the noble young girl forcibly rojected this proposition. — 
 Nevertheless, whilst the gambler Menar3 only appeared to her 
 worthy of contempt, fate, which so victoriously plays with 
 our wills and feelings, gradually prepared the accomplishment 
 of this long rejected union. Chevalier Menars suddenly 
 decided upon changing his course of life. He shut up his 
 pharo bank, and he was no longer met with in any gambling 
 house. The strangest and most contradictory reports were 
 circulated concerning him ; but instead of paying heed to 
 them, he became more and more savage and inaccessible. — 
 Angela was not ignorant of the change that had taken place 
 in him. Her woman's vanity, flattered by such a proof of 
 his passion, became gradually a serious and intimate affection. 
 When, several months after their first interview, she met the 
 chevalier in a walk of Malmaison park, she could not refrain 
 from a shudder. He was so pale, so cast down, appeared to 
 be suffering so much, so unhappy ! — Vertua, who did not 
 lose sight of his marriage project, from which he expected to 
 make an excellent speculation, gave him a very friendly salu- 
 
392 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 tation, and begged him to come and visit them in his house 
 Rue Saint Honored 
 
 The chevalier took care not to refuse an invitation so favor- 
 able to his passion. His visits became frequent, and his love 
 for the young girl grew day by day ; so that finalFy, per- 
 suaded that she really loved chevalier Menars, she consented 
 to give him her hand. 
 
 Several days after the betrothal, Angela, whilst looking 
 from her window, saw a fine regiment of cavalry on the march 
 to Spain defile before her. Passing before Vertua's house, 
 one of the soldiers reined in his horse, and, freeing himself 
 from the ranks, made several signs of adieu to the young girl, 
 This soldier was the eon of a neighbor of Vertua, named 
 Duvernet. Brought up almost from infancy quite near her, 
 this young man had accustomed himself to loving the young 
 girl, whom he saw every day ; and he had only ceased visit- 
 ing Vertua on learning the object of the attentions of cheva- 
 lier Menars, and the good reception that he received. Then 
 knowing that his love was hopeless, he had enlisted. 
 
 Vertua's daughter could not well hide the impression that 
 she had received, so that her father and the chevalier himself 
 might have guessed that something strange was passing in her 
 heart. But Angela did not allow her secret to escape ; the 
 assiduous attentions of the chevalier besides effaced the re- 
 membrance of Duvernet from her mind, and marriage, which 
 soon launched her into a new kind of existence, was an aurora 
 of happiness which was only saddened by the sudden death 
 of Vertua. The old gambler died unrepenting the sin of 
 his life. At his last moments his fingers closed as if to shuffle, 
 cut and deal the cards ; and the last words which escaped 
 from his lips with his last breath were the banker's cry : — : 
 " Loses ! wins ! " 
 
 When Angela saw herself left alone in the world with the 
 chevalier, the remembrance of the last words of her father, 
 and the agonizing crisi3 which had brought back to him 
 before death his fatal gambler's instinct, came to make her 
 
TIIE PHAItO BANK. ' 898 
 
 fear that this terrible passion might be in her husband a fire 
 smouldering beneath the ashes which the least spark could 
 reanimate and kindle into a blaze ; her sad forebodings were 
 too soon changed into a painful certainty. Whatever terror 
 the manner of death of old Francesco Vertua had occasioned 
 in the mind of the chevalier, the effect of the spectacle was, 
 notwithstanding, such as to awake in him the but too active 
 thoughts of gambling ; and, without his being able himself to 
 account for his sensations, he saw himself every night in a 
 dream seated at a bank, gathering again heaps of gold, — his 
 evil star regaining its influence. 
 
 The meeting with a perverted man, an old attendant 
 upon the chevalier's bank, ended in convincing him that his 
 conduct was weak and ridiculous ; he was astonished at hav- 
 ing been able to sacrifice to his love for a woman the pleasures 
 of an existence alone enviable. 
 
 Several months after, chevalier Menar's bank was reopened. 
 His luck was true to him, gold rained down upon him; but 
 Angela's happiness had vanished like a beautiful dream. 
 The chevalier now only treated her with indifference, almost 
 with scorn. Weeks, whole months elapsed, and she saw him 
 not ; an old servant took care of the house, and the under 
 servants were constantly changed at the caprice of the cheva- 
 lier ; so that Angela, like a stranger in her own house, found 
 no where the least consolation. Often when she heard during 
 her wakeful nights the chevalier's carriage step before the 
 house, and the chevalier's voice in rude tones ordering the 
 heavy cash bos to be brought in, and then the door of his 
 distant chamber shut noisily, a terrent of bitter tears ran 
 down her cheeks ; a hundred times, in the anguish of her 
 despair, the name of Duvernet escaped from her lips, and she 
 supplicated Providence to put an end to her miserable exist- 
 ence thus poisoned by grief. 
 
 It happened that a young man of good family, after having 
 lost all his fortune at the chevalier's bank, blew his brains out 
 with a pistol at the very table on which they were playing. 
 
394 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 The chevalier alone preserved his coldness, and seeing that 
 every body was leaving, asked if it was the custom to quit 
 play before the usual hour on account of a young madman who 
 did not know how to conduct himself. This accident caused 
 a great sensation. The unexampled conduct of the chevalier 
 disgusted the most hardened gamblers ; there was universal 
 disapproval, and the police suppressed Menars' bank. He 
 was accused, besides, of fraudulent practices ; his singular 
 luck gave only too much weight to this accusation. He could 
 not defend himself, and the enormous fine that was imposed 
 upon him deprived him of a great part of his riches. He 
 saw himself insulted, shamed \ — he then returned to the arms 
 of his wife, who, in spite of bis ill treatment, willingly re- 
 ceived him in his repentance ; for the remembrance of her 
 father, who had thus abjured the irregularity of gaming, 
 allowed her to catch a gleam of hope, and the ripened age of 
 the chevalier was another reason for her to believe his con- 
 version real and durable. They both left Paris and went to 
 Genoa, the birthplace of Angela. 
 
 The chevalier lived there at first in a very retired manner ; 
 but he could never reestablish those sweet domeetie relations 
 that his evil genius had destroyed. The calm was of short 
 duration. His bad reputation had followed him from Paris 
 to Genoa, and in spite of the almost irresistible temptation 
 which he felt to open a bank, he was absolutely forbidden to 
 do so. 
 
 At this time the richest bank in Genoa was kept by a 
 French colonel, who had been forced by serious wounds to 
 quit the service. The chevalier presented himself at this 
 bank with mixed feelings of envy and hatred, but with the 
 idea that his habitual luck would soon enable him to ruin his 
 rival. At the sight of the chevalier, the colonel, with a 
 gaiety which contrasted strongly with his usually serious man- 
 ners, said that from that moment alone, gambling received 
 for him a real attraction, when it became necessary to struggle 
 against the luck of chevalier Menars. The cards were m 
 
THE PIIARO BANK. 
 
 395 
 
 cflbct favorable to the chevalier during the first deals. But 
 blinded by the excess of his luck, and having exclaimed :— - 
 " I will break the bank ! " he lost at one deal a considerable 
 sum of money. The colonel, ordinarily immovable in good 
 as well as in bad fortune, took up the chevalier's money with 
 evident manifestations of excessive joy. 
 
 From that moment the chevalier's star set to rise no more. 
 Every night he played, and every night he lost, until he had 
 nothing left except two thousand ducats in bills of exchange. 
 He had run about all day to realize this paper, and had re- 
 turned home at a very late hour. When night came, he pre- 
 pared to go out provided with his last resources, when Angela, 
 who suspected the truth, stopped him in the way, threw her- 
 self at his feet, and with her eyes bathed in tears, supplicated 
 him to renounce his fatal resolution, and refrain from bringing 
 misery upon himself. The chevalier raised her from the 
 ground, embraced her with painful emotion, and said to her 
 in a husky voice: — "Angela, my dear Angela, I must follow 
 my destiny wherever it leads me ! But, to-morrow, — to-mor- 
 row all thy trials shall be at an end ; for, I swear it, I play 
 to-night for the last time ! Calm thyself, my sweet friend ; 
 sleep, dream of peaceful days, dream of a happy life which 
 thou shalt soon enjoy — that will bring me luck ! " Saying 
 these words the chevalier kissed his wife and precipitately fled. 
 He played and lost all. He stood still near the colonel, and 
 fixed his eyes on the gaming table with a sad and stupid look. 
 
 " You no longer bet, chevalier ? " said the colonel, shuffling 
 the cards for a new deal. 
 
 "I am nothing but a beggar," murmured the chevalier in 
 a voice tremulous with fury and despair, and he still kept his 
 eyes fixed upon the table, without seeing that the players 
 were winning more and more from the banker. 
 
 The colonel quietly continued the game. " But you have 
 a pretty wife," said he in a low voice, without looking at the 
 chevalier, and shuffling the cards for another deal. — "What 
 is that you say ? " exclaimed the chevalier in a rage. — " Ten 
 
396 
 
 HOFFMANN 3 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 thousand ducats, or your Angela/' Baid the colonel, half turn- 
 ing towards him as he handed the cards to him to cut. 
 
 " You aro mad ! " exclaimed the chevalier, who had mean- 
 while recovered his coolness, and perceived that the colonel 
 was losing incessantly. 
 
 "I will play twenty thousand ducats against Angela,' ' 
 said the colonel again in a low voice to the chevalier, stopping 
 a moment whilst shuffling the cards. The chevalier was 
 silent ; the colonel commenced the game, and nearly all the 
 cards were against him. "Agreed ! " said the chevalier in 
 the colonel's ear as he began a new deal ; and he laid the 
 queen on the gaming table. 
 
 At the first play the queen lost. The chevalier stepped 
 back, gnashed. his teeth, and went to the window, against 
 which he leaned, despair and death painted upon his face.— 
 The play was over. The colonel approached the chevalier and 
 said in a mocking manner: — "Well! what is the matter 
 with you?" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the chevalier, distractedly, "you have 
 ruduced me to beggary ; but you must be mad to suppose 
 that you could win my wife. Is a woman a slave to be dis- 
 posed of by a master, who in a moment of infamous blindness 
 has been capable of selling her or staking her against a sum 
 of money at a gaming table ? But, a3 you would have had 
 to pay twenty thousand ducats had the queen won, it is just. 
 Come then and have the disappointment of being repulsed 
 with horror by her. 
 
 "Despair yourself, chevalier," replied the colonel in a 
 Satanic tone ; "despair yourself when you see her joyfully 
 throw herself into my arms, — when you learn the consecra- 
 tion of our union and the happiness which must crown our 
 most cherished desires ! — You call me a madman, chevalier, 
 I only wished to win the right to claim her from you ! Your 
 wife's consent belongs to me already ; for know that she has 
 long loved me. Learn that I am Duvernet, the son of Ver- 
 tua's neighbor, brought up with Angela, united to her by an 
 
THE pha.ro bank. 397 
 
 ardent love, and separated from her by your Satanic seduc- 
 tions. It was only, alas ! at my departure for the army that 
 Angela knew the sympathy which existed between us ; I have 
 learned all, it was too late ! A hellish inspiration told me 
 that I should succeed in ruining you at play, that is why I 
 gave myself up to it. I followed you to Genoa and I suc- 
 ceeded ! Now let us go and look for your wife i " 
 
 The chevalier was annihilated. A thousand poignards 
 pierced his heart. This fatal secret was at last revealed to 
 him; he now understood to what excess of suffering poor 
 Angela had been subjected. He mechanically followed the 
 colonel, who walked rapidly on. When they arrived, and as the 
 colonel had already placed his hand on Angela's chamber 
 door, the chevalier drew him back quickly, exclaiming : — 
 " My wife is sleeping, you will only trouble her repose ! " 
 " Nonsense, " replied the colonel, "do you think that she has 
 ever enjoyed a moment of peaceful slumber since you have 
 devoted her to such miserable anguish? " And the colonel, 
 pushing him firmly aside, was about to enter, when Menars 
 threw himself at his feet, exclaiming in frightful despair : — 
 " For pity's sake ! for heaven's sake ! after having reduced 
 me to beggary, leave, leave me my wife ! " 
 
 " It was thus that old Vertua was before you, without 
 being able to soften your stony heart. Suffer then heaven's 
 vengeance!" Saying this, he again approached Angela's 
 chamber. The chevalier sprang with a bound, violently 
 pushed open the door, ran to the bed, crying out : — "Angela ! 
 Angela ! " He bent over her, took her hand 
 
 Then stopping suddenly and trembling convulsively, he 
 stretched himself up to his full height and cried out in a loud 
 voice :— " Look ! you have won the body of my wife ! " 
 
 The colonel shudderingly approached the bed. 
 
 Angela lay cold and pale. She was dead ! grief had de- 
 stroyed her. At the sight colonel Duvernet uttered a lam- 
 entable cry and ran madly out of this house of mourning. — 
 Ha was never seen more. 
 34 
 
lfW$r 
 
 FASCINATION. 
 
 "Dreams resemble the foam on the wave which passes 
 
 away and vanishes," said old baron H , stretching out 
 
 his arm to ring for his valet de chambre Kaspar. For the 
 hour for retiring had long since sounded ; the r autumn 
 wind blew with violence, and Maria, a beautiful young girl, 
 wrapped up in an immense shawl, struggled to keep awake. 
 A little farther on stood Ottmar, the baron's son, a brave 
 student, whose brain philosophized concerning everything, 
 
 " Father," said the young man, " how can you think that 
 dreams are not mysterious events which place us in relation 
 with the invisible world?" "My friend," answered the 
 baron, " I am of the opinion of the materialists who see noth- 
 ing but what is very natural in those pretended mysteries of 
 nature, of which our imagination is the sole cause." 
 
 "But," observed Maria, the beautiful girl, " may it not 
 be that dreams, which you speak so slightingly of, are the result 
 of the fermentation which takes place in the brain, and which 
 disengages during the hours of slumber our vital spirits from 
 the prison of the senses, to lead them to soar in regions 
 neither bounded by time nor space ? " 
 
 "My dear girl," replied the baron, "I think I hear, in 
 listening to you, the emphatic incoherences of our friend Al- 
 ban. Thou knowest, besides, my incredulity regarding all the 
 systems improvised by the visionaries of the present day. — 
 Dreams are tho fruits of the over excitation of our organs, 
 
FASCINATION. ■ 399 
 
 and I see the proof of it in the disagreeable impressions which 
 they give rise to during their existence and after they are 
 over. If dreams produce real relations between us and the 
 invisible world, why should they not be an initiation into the 
 felicities of which religion offers the hope after this earthly 
 existence? " 
 
 Ottmar was about to raise an endless discussion on this 
 subject, but the baron did not allow him time. "Let us 
 break off here," said he ; "Iain not in a humor to begin a 
 controversy. I remember, besides, that this day, the ninth of 
 September, is the anniversary to me of a youthful remem- 
 brance, the thought of which awakens painful sensations." 
 " But," interrupted the student, "is it not established that 
 the magnetic influence " 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the baron, "never pronounce before 
 me that word ; the name of magnetism disgusts and wounds 
 me excessively ; he who professes this odious art pays sooner 
 or later, by his own ruin, for the guilty curiosity which leads 
 him to raise the veil with which God covers his works. I 
 remember, my children, that at the time I was studying in 
 the military academy in Berlin, there was amongst our pro- 
 fessors a man whose features will never leave my thoughts, 
 for I could not look at him without experiencing a secret fear. 
 To a gigantic stature, and the leanness of a skeleton, was 
 added one of those physiognomies which the strangest imagin- 
 ation would hardly dare to dream of. He was endowed with 
 great strength and consummate skill. He related of himself 
 that, being a major in the Danish service, he was obliged to 
 become an exile on account of a duel ; but some people sup- 
 posed that instead of duel it was a murder committed on the 
 person of his general, which had caused his flight. He was a 
 very hard man and practised an unexampled severity towards 
 the pupils of the academy. But there were days in which 
 his character seemed entirely changed. He then appeared 
 the most indulgent and affectionate man you could possibly 
 meet with. During these moments of expansion, if he pressed 
 
400 Hoffmann's .strange stories. 
 
 our hands, the contact caused a singular fluid to run in our 
 veins, which placed us under his influence by an inexplicable 
 sympathy. But these days of calm were rare. He quickly 
 regained his habits of severity, which filled us with fear at the 
 sight of him. Sometimes he became exalted to a kind of 
 delirium ; he might be seen, dressed in his old red uniform, 
 traversing the courts of the academy, and fighting the empty air 
 with his long sword, as if he were standing before a furious 
 adversary ; then he made motions as if he were trampling a 
 body under his feet, accompanying all these gestures with 
 horrible oaths. Sometimes he climbed the trees with the 
 agility of a wild cat, or he ran like a wild beast, uttering 
 savage cries. These fits often lasted for a whole day. On 
 the morrow he was calm, and without a remembrance of the 
 extravagant behavior of the day before; but his character 
 became more and more intractable and violent. The strangest 
 reports were circulated concerning him in the city and in the 
 academy. It w r as said that the major had the power to cure 
 all diseases by the touch, or even by a look alone ; and this 
 opinion was so strong, that he was obliged one day to drive 
 away the people, who importuned him to try his mysterious 
 power on them, with blows. Some people went so far as to 
 say that he had dealings with the infernal spirits, and that 
 sooner or later his life would end with some catastrophe. — 
 For the rest, and whatever might be his conduct towards 
 others, the major constantly showed himself mild before me, 
 an attachment which drew me powerfully towards him. I 
 will not relate to you all the singular scenes which passed 
 between us, but this is a fact that I have not been able to forget, 
 During the night of the ninth of September 17 — , I dreamed 
 that the major had come to my bedside, and fixing upon me a 
 penetrating look, had covered my eyes with his right hand, 
 saying to me : — ' Miserable earthly creature, in me behold 
 thy master ! I have, like God, the power of reading thy 
 thoughts ! ' At the same time I felt something sharp and cold 
 like a steel blade penetrate through my forehead to the brain. 
 
FASCINATION. ' 401 
 
 I uttered a fearful cry which awoke me, I was in a profuse 
 perspiration, and nearly out of my senses. I arose from my 
 bed with difficulty, and opened the window to refresh myself 
 with a little fresh air. But what was again my terror in 
 perceiving, in the moonlight, the fatal major dressed in his red 
 coat, open a gate of the academy which led to the fields, and 
 shut it again forcibly after him ! I fell down in a fainting fit. 
 "When the morning came I related to our principal what had 
 happened to me. He assured me at first that I had been dream- 
 ing ; but as the major had not yet appeared, the morning 
 being far advanced, we went to his chamber. The door was 
 barricaded on the inside, and we had to force it open. We 
 found the major lying on the floor, his eyes glaring, his mouth 
 covered with bloody froth ; he held his sword in a hand stiff- 
 ened by death. Xo efforts could bring him to life." 
 
 The baron added nothing more to this recital. Ottmar, who 
 had listened to him attentively, was meditating, with his face 
 buried in his hands. Maria was quite tremulous with emo- 
 tion. At this moment, the painter, Franz Bickert, an old 
 friend of the family, who had noiselessly entered the room 
 during the baron's narration, burst into a loud laugh, and 
 said: — i; Those are truly gay stories to relate before young 
 girls before going to bed ! As for myself, my friends, I have 
 a system quite the opposite from our dear baron. As I know 
 by experience that dreams are the fruit of sensations felt 
 during the day, I always take care, before going to sleep, to 
 drive away ail painful thoughts, and to amuse my mind by 
 some joyful remembrance of past times. It is an excellent 
 preventive against the nightmare. At most, my friends, 
 these terrifying dreams which sometimes torment us, such as 
 the illusion of falling from a tower, of being beheaded, and a 
 thousand others more or less disagreeable, are the result of 
 physical pain which reacts upon our moral faculties. This 
 reminds me, I remember a dreara in which I was present at 
 an orgie. An officer and a student quarrelled, and threw 
 glasses at each other's heads : I tried to separate them, but 
 
402 Hoffmann's strakgb stories. 
 
 in the struggle I feei myself badly wounded in the hand, the 
 pain of which awakes me, — my hand was really Weeding, for 
 I had just scratched it with a large pin which was stuck in my 
 coverlid. I have had at other times frightful dreams, and 
 
 "Ah! I beg of you," exclaimed Maria, "spare me the 
 
 recital of it, for you will torture me all night long " 
 
 " No ! *' said Bickert, " there is no escape. You must 
 know that in a dream I was invited to a brilliant tea party at 
 the house of the princess Almaldasongi. As I reached the 
 middle of the room clothed in my finest dress coat, I set 
 about addressing her in a most flattering manner, when on 
 throwing a complacent look upon my costume, I perceived 
 that I had forgotten my breeches ! " 
 
 An explosive laugh followed this outbreak of Bickert. — 
 But without leaving his auditory time to recollect themselves, 
 the joyous artist continued : — "Do year wish," said he, " that 
 I should relate you a mishap still more humiliating? I 
 dreamed, another night, that I was only twenty years of age, 
 and that I was about dancing a quadrille with a beautiful lady. 
 I had expended my last crown to improve the appearance of 
 my last coat. I go, I mingle with the crowd, beautifully 
 dressed and sparkling with jewels, that is clustering around 
 the door of the saloon, when an accursed Spaniel dog opened 
 the stove door before me, and said :— ' Mr. Beauty, through 
 this hole, if you please, you will take the trouble to pass ! ' 
 
 " Hold ! last night, I dreamed that I had become a sheet 
 of paper ; an ignoble apprentice poet, armed with a badly 
 mended goose quill, scratched me in all directions whilst 
 writing upon my poor individual self his insipid rhymes blot- 
 ted with erasures. Another time, I dreamed that a surgeon 
 took off my limbs one at a time, as though I had been a 
 mannikin, and cruelly amused himself with trying the effect 
 produced by planting my feet in the middle of my back, or 
 
 adapting my right arm to lengthen my left leg — Lastly — " 
 
 But here the baron and his children were rolling on the 
 
FASCINATION. 403 
 
 sofa, uttering such noisy bursts of laughter, that friend Franz 
 Bickert was obliged to renounce his sallies. Ottmar took up 
 the conversation: — " Our friend," said he, "places himself 
 by his recitals in contradiction with his system ; for he tells 
 funny stories, or he has not succeeded in preparing himself 
 for pleasant dreams. However it may be, I am not the less 
 persuaded of the virtue of magnetism " 
 
 " Enough," exclaimed the baron, " are you going to begin 
 again on that subject ? It would suit me better to have 
 Maria make us a bowl of punch to keep us in a good humor." 
 Bickert loudly applauded this idea ; and whilst Maria set 
 herself to woik, he busied himself in reanimating the fire 
 smouldering in the chimney corner. When the punch was 
 made, Ottmar filled the glasses, and Bickert said, after empty- 
 ing his at a single draught : — " I have never found this 
 liquor so delicious as when it is prepared by the hands of our 
 pretty Maria. She communicates to everything that she 
 touches a celestial perfume. The mysterious influence of ner 
 beauty produces this charming effect ; this is to my senses 
 the most indisputable magnetism " 
 
 " Still talking of magnetism ! " interrupted the baron. — 
 " For heaven's sake, shall we never have done this evening 
 with the strange and the extravagant ? Maria is, indeed, a 
 good and handsome young girl ; but thanks to you, I shall 
 begin soon to take her for a being from the other world. — 
 Let us try then, I beg of you, to live peaceably this good 
 common life which is so sweet ! " - 
 
 "Nevertheless," replied Ottmar, "1 have a great desire 
 to relate to friend Bickert a fact confided to me by Alban, 
 which left a deep impression upon my mind. Alban became 
 intimate during his stay at the university, with a young man 
 named Theobald, whose exterior exercised at first a complete 
 seduction over those who saw him. Theobald possessed at 
 the same time a happy disposition and a native goodness. — 
 But gradually, after his acquaintance with Alban, his soul 
 became clouded, his character became sad and uneasy ; his 
 
404 Hoffmann's strangn stories. 
 
 imagination, from reflective merged into exaltation. Alban 
 alone had the power to command liis irresistible nature, whose 
 energy was wasted in useless straggles against the ills of life. 
 
 Theobald, after having taken his departure at the Univer- 
 sity of J , was to return to his native city, to marry his 
 
 tutor's daughter, and live quietly on an ample income left 
 him by his parents. Ail his tastes resolved into the study of 
 animal magnetism, the first lessons in which were given to 
 him by his friend Alban. He proposed nothing less than the 
 pursuit of this science to the extremest possible limits ; the 
 development of its mysterious operations. 
 
 A short time after his return to his home, he wrote a de- 
 spairing letter to Alban, in which he announced to him that 
 during his absence an officer of a travelling regiment, having 
 lodged on his way at the house of his tutor, had fallen in love 
 with the young girl, and had succeeded in making her share 
 his passion. When this officer was obliged to. set out to follow 
 the army to which he belonged, the young girl had felt such 
 grief at the separation, that her reason became disturbed, and 
 they feared for her life. Thus, poor Theobald had to regret 
 the heart, now lost to him, of his betrothed, and also feel the 
 dread of seeing the sole object of his affection perish before 
 his eyes at any moment. Alban immediately replied to him, 
 and told him that his misfortune was not irreparable, and that 
 magnetism could infallibly restore his beloved to him. Theo- 
 bald profited by this advice, and with the consent of the 
 mother of his betrothed, he went every night and sat near 
 her at the time when, yielding to the influence of slumber, 
 she became subject to painful dreams, in which the officer's 
 name came unceasingly from her lips. He gradually exer- 
 cised upon the young girl the passes of which Alban had 
 taught him the secret virtue ; then after having brought her 
 into a state of somnambulism, he conversed with her, softly 
 recalled to her the remembrance of their childhood and their 
 tender and mutual affection. Gradually the young girl 
 allowed herself to be overcome by the ascendancy of the 
 
FASCINATION. ■ . 40]5 
 
 magic power which surrounded her, and every time that she 
 became subject to the influence of somnambulism, her sensa- 
 tions and the answers to questions addressed to her naturally 
 returned to Theobald and the remembrances of their early 
 days. The ascendancy of Theobald became so complete, 
 that his betrothed lived only by his life and will. It seemed 
 as if the soul of her friend had become a part of her being, 
 or that she herself lived in him." 
 
 Ottmar had proceeded thus far in his story, when Maria 
 suddenly changed color, uttered a sharp cry, and would have 
 fallen fainting on the floor, if Bickert had not sprung up in 
 time to receive her into his arms. They tried to restore her, 
 but nothing would bring her back to consciousness. She 
 appeared to be dead. — "Ah! would to God!" exclaimed 
 Ottmar, " that Aiban were here, he alone could save her ! " 
 
 The door opened; Aiban himself appeared, approached 
 the young girl slowly, and said to her as if she heard him : 
 •' Maria, what is the matter with you ? " The sick girl trem- 
 bled at these words, made several quick movements and mur- 
 mured : — " Leave me, accursed man, I will at least die with- 
 out suffering ! " Aiban smiled and looked around upon those 
 present. " Fear nothing," said he, "it is a little attack of 
 fever ; but she will go to sleep, and in six hours, when she 
 will awake, you will give her twelve drops of the liquid con- 
 tained in this flask." At the same time he put into Ottmar's 
 hands a little silver vessel, bowed, and withdrew as he had 
 entered. 
 
 " Weil done ! " said Bickert : " here is another marvel- 
 lous doctor ! His look inspired, his voice prophetic, the 
 flask of elixir, nothing is wanting ! " 
 
 " My poor friend Bickert," said the old baron, " our even- 
 ing has ended very sadly. Ever since the departure of Aiban, 
 I have often dreamed that some fatal accident would recall 
 him to us. Pray heaven that my presentiment, has deceived 
 me." 
 
 M But," my worthy friend," replied Bickert. s i you must, 
 
40G 
 
 HOFFMANN S STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 it seems to me, look upon the arrival of Alban as fortunate ; 
 for to say the least, he is a skilful physician, and you ought 
 
 not to forget that formerly our gentle Maria suffered from 
 nervous attacks, against which all remedies were powerless. 
 Alban cured her in a few weeks by means of this magnetism 
 that you abhor. I believe that it is well to avoid too rigorous 
 prejudice against modern sciences ; nature hides in her breast 
 thousands of secrets whose discovery will occupy ages per- 
 haps " 
 
 " Well ! I must say," interrupted the baron, " that I am 
 not any farther behind the times than others, nor more an 
 enemy to the progress of science ; but I believe, to tell the 
 truth, that my antipathy to magnetism proceeds in a great 
 measure from the difficulty I experience in denning this 
 Alban in whose favor my son is so infatuated. I try in vain 
 to seize something real in the multiplied characters in which 
 this singular man appears. I know that gratitude is due him 
 for the cure of my daughter ; I would willingly have offered 
 him, for this service, the treasures of a kins;. Well, dear 
 Bickert, picture to % yourself that a repugnance that I could 
 not control has always prevented me from cordially showing 
 my gratitude to him ; day by day ^this man becomes more 
 hateful to me, in spite of my efforts to overcome this singu- 
 larity ; when I look at him, it seems to me that I see again 
 before my eyes that diabolicaLDanish major who had formerly 
 occasioned me. such terrible frights." 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed Bickert, " that then, without proceeding 
 any farther, is the secret of this inexplicable aversion ! It is 
 not Alban, it is the Danish major who besieges your imagina- 
 tion with the unfortunate resemblance. This worthy doctor 
 Alban bears the burden on account of his hooked nose and 
 penetrating black eyes. And even should he be something 
 of- a visionary, let us excuse this, since he wills and practices 
 well ; let us throw aside his human frailties, and let us render 
 homage to the great skill of the physician." 
 
 " What you say now, Franz," interrupted the baron, rising, 
 
FASCINATION. * 407 
 
 " is not the impression of your thoughts; you seek to palliate 
 my apprehensions ; but your efforts are useless ; I see under 
 the human form of this Alban an infernal being, from whom 
 there is every thing to be feared ! Listen, Franz, watch with 
 me over this man, for there is in him, I repeat to you, some- 
 thing formidable and malicious," 
 
 The two old friends took each other by the hand before 
 separating. The night was silent and dark. Maria reposed 
 in a deep slumber. She awoke at the expiration of six hours, 
 and doctor Alban's prescription was followed. A few moment's 
 after, she appeared in a more flourishing state of health than 
 ever, and had no remembrance of her accident the night 
 before. Alban that day did not appear at the family meals, 
 and sent word that a long correspondence would occupy all 
 his time. 
 
 Maeia to Adelgunde. 
 
 Dear friend of my childhood, with what joy your letter has 
 filled me ! my feelings overpowered me at the sight of your 
 handwriting. With what happiness I found in it good news 
 concerning your brother Hippolyt, my cherished affianced 
 husband ! Your poor friend, dear Adelgunde, has been Tear- 
 fully sick. I cannot explain to you the kind of pain that I 
 endured. Every thing appeared to me the opposite of what 
 it really was ; the least noise pierced my head like the sound 
 of a cannon ; I had the most singular waking dreams ; an 
 unaccountable uneasiness consumed my strength ; I felt death 
 coming upon me with all his terrors, and yet I was impatient 
 to live. All my physicians wasted their time in examinations 
 and consultations, when one day my brother Ottmar brought 
 one of his friends to the house, who cured me in a most sur- 
 prising manner. 
 
 There appeared to me in nearly all my dreams a grave and 
 handsome man, who, in spite of his youthful appearance, 
 inspired me with deep respect. This strange personage drew 
 mo towards him by tho magnet of a mysterious tenderness. — - 
 
408 Hoffmann's strange stokies. 
 
 Judge, my dear Adelgunde, judge of my surprise when I 
 recognized in form and feature the man of my dreams in the 
 friend that my brother introduced to us. Alban, that is his 
 name, subjects me, in spite of myself, to the power of his 
 look ; but instead of the nervous convulsions which agitated 
 me, I felt a drowsy calmness pervade all my senses ; my 
 dreams vanished, my slumber became profound, and the fever- 
 ish vivacity of my spirits was quieted. Only that it happened 
 to me sometimes, whilst sleeping, to believe myself endowed 
 with a new sense. A mysterious communication established 
 itself between Alban and myself; he interrogates me, and. I 
 tell him what is passing in my mind, as if I were reading 
 from a book. At another time Alban himself occupies my 
 mind ; it seems to me that I find his thoughts within me, that 
 he lights up by his will a flame in my soul which shines or is 
 extinguished as this will attracts or repulses me ; it is a state 
 of transubstantiation in which I find a happiness superior to 
 all that life can offer. You will laugh at me perhaps, dear 
 Adelgunde ; you will think me mad or very ill. But what- 
 ever it may be, think and be assured that I have never loved 
 Hippolyt more, or desired his return with greater earnestness. 
 Since Alban has subjected me to this power, which he calls, 
 I believe, magnetism, it seems to me that it is through him I 
 love Hippolyt with deeper tenderness. Alban, this sublime 
 and beneficent spirit will protect both of us until after our 
 union. 
 
 Sometimes, however, I am afraid of him. Strange sus- 
 picions tear away the veil of enthusiasm in which I have 
 wrapped the figure of Alban in the depths of my soul. I 
 have hours of fascination, during which I imagine that I see 
 him in the midst of all the attributes that serve, as is said, to 
 accomplish guilty sorceries. His noble features vanish, and 
 I see a hideous skeleton, whose bones rattle in the folds of 
 slimy reptiles that encompass it. For the rest, Alban, who 
 possesses my confidence, and to whom I innocently relate all 
 my sensations, all my doubts concerning him, never fails to 
 
FASCINATION. 409 
 
 show himself unmoved by my scrutiny. He is always the 
 same mild and affectionate man. This majestic calmness 
 makes me ashamed of my foolish idea. 
 
 This, dear Adelgunde, is the history of my interior life. — 
 My heart is lighter now that I havo no secrets from thee. 
 Farewell until we meet again. 
 
 AlBAN TO THE0Bi3~D. 
 
 Existence is the reward of a struggle ; ; f is a struggle itself. 
 The victory is to the strongest, for strength is the natural law 
 of all things ; the being subjected adds its own strength to 
 that which his conqueror already possessed. 
 
 The strength of intelligence has its combats and its victo- 
 ries, as well as physical strength. A medium power of intel- 
 ligence often subjects and governs an imm ense physical force ; 
 it is in us like a reflection from the Deity, by whom empire 
 is given us over all creation. 
 
 We are ignorant of the mysteries of the union of soul and 
 body ; the discovery of this science would endow us with the 
 power of God himself. All that we can do this side of that 
 point, is to exercise for the advantage of our desires, in the 
 circle that is traced out for us, the amount of strength that is 
 communicated to us for the purpose of enjoying the creation. 
 
 I have met on my way a young girl, the sight of whom 
 has made the sympathetic chords vibrate within me. I felt 
 that all power belonged to me to attach her life to my own ; 
 but it was necessary to struggle against an adverse power that 
 controlled her. This young girl is beloved, and she loves. — 
 I concentrated upon a single point the whole force of my will. 
 Woman has received from nature a passive organization ; it is 
 in the sacrifice that she voluntarily makes of her individuality 
 to pour out her soul into the bosom of the being who subjects 
 her by his superiority, that the happiness occasioned by love 
 resides. 
 
 The sojourn of a week near the beautiful Maria was suf- 
 ficient for my observing penetration to gain a complete knowl- 
 35 
 
410 Hoffmann's sthange stories. 
 
 edge of her. I applied to the exquisite delicacy of her organ- 
 ization the occult action of magnetism, the science which is 
 laughed at by the vulgar. I established between her and 
 myself sympathetic feelings of which neither absence nor 
 separation can break the chain. She fell under my spiritual 
 domination in attacks of hallucinations which her father and 
 brother took for the effects of a nervous malady. Friend to 
 the brother, who admired without understanding, certain ex- 
 periments which I amused myself in exhibiting to him, I was 
 called to the young girl in the capacity of a physician. She 
 recognized me by a mysterious convulsion which was the 
 assurance of my empire ; for my look and secret will were 
 sufficient to plunge her into a state of somnambulism, that is 
 to say, to attract her soul towards my own. Since I have 
 lived near her, the image of Hippolyt is being gradually 
 effaced from her memory ; the last obstacles will soon falL 
 
 This Hippolyt is a colonel ; he is at this moment following 
 the fortunes of war far away from here. I do not wish him 
 to be killed; I should even like to have him come back, for 
 his presence would add another charm to victory of which I 
 shall soon taste the delicious fruits. Farewell until I see 
 thee again, my dear disciple. 
 
 The country, strewed with dead leaves, was in mourning, 
 Leaden clouds moved in the sky, chased by the cold autumn 
 wind. In haste to arrive at a lodging place, for night was 
 approaching, I discovered at a turn in the road the village of 
 
 — , hidden in its solitary valley like a bird's nest in a farrow. 
 
 The church bell was uttering its funeral note, and grave dig- 
 gers were waiting in the cemetery the last prayer of the old 
 pastor to lower the coffin into the earth. I joined several 
 men on the road who were coming slowly back from the pro- 
 cession, and I walked behind and listened to their conversa- 
 tion. — " Our old friend Franz sleeps the sleep of the just," 
 said one of them. ' ' May God allow us to do so likewise, ' ' added 
 another. I learned from these worthy people that the dead 
 
FASCINATION. 411 
 
 man's name was Franz Bickert, an old painter who had finished 
 his career alone, in a little gothic manor house in ruins, which 
 was pointed out to me on the summit of a neighboring hill. 
 The pastor took me to visit this little castle, which the worthy 
 Bickert had given to the village to become, after his death, 
 an open asylum to several noor and infirm inhabitants. The 
 
 It/ _L 
 
 walls on the ground floor were covered with fresco paintings, 
 reproducing in various ways a demon watching a young girl 
 asleep. We found in the corner of a ches-} covered with 
 mould, several sheets of paper which appeared to have been 
 taken from a manuscript and scattered by chance. I picked 
 them up mechanically; they contained short notes, phrases 
 without beginning or end, out of which I succeeded in de- 
 cyphering the end of Maria's story. 
 
 On a certain night, old baron H was going to his 
 
 chamber leaning on the arm of his old friend Franz Bickert. 
 Near the middle of the gallery, they perceived a white figure 
 carrying a night lamp, which appeared to come out of Maria's 
 apartment. The baron frightened, exclaimed : — " That is the 
 major ! Franz, that is the Danish major ! " 
 
 The figure had vanished, no sound had been heard. The 
 baron uneasily entered his daughter's room ; she was beauti- 
 fully and calmly reposing like an angel from heaven ; a sweet 
 smile w r as upon her lips. Hippolyt had returned from the 
 wars. The marriage was to take place on the morrow, and 
 near the beautiful girl who slept, the wedding garments 
 already prepared were lying upon the sofa. 
 
 On the morrow the bride and bridegroom went to the 
 church ; but at the moment of kneeling at the foot of the 
 altar, Maria fell — She was dead ! — The magnetizer had de- 
 voured her soul. 
 
 All those who had loved her soon followed her into the 
 tomb. 
 
 Nothing was known of what became of doctor Alban, 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 
 
 Quite near the city of G , coming from the south, 
 
 may be seen a castle in the style of the middle age, which 
 seems like a stone giant, to watch the road through the open- 
 ings in a wood of pines that surrounds it. Behind this resi- 
 dence, is spread out a grand park all covered with shade and 
 mystery. The solitude which reigns in the castle strikes a 
 chill to your heart like the air from a tomb ; and it is with 
 difficulty that the old porter deigns to inform the curious 
 traveller that this was the residence of the late counsellor of 
 state Reutlinger. 
 
 The interior decoration of the castle recalls the paintings, 
 arabesques, and all the strange caprices of the French artists 
 of the time of Louis XIV. This fashion has even presided 
 over the arrangement of the gardens, filled with artificial 
 grottoes, suspended bridges, and currents of running water 
 spread out in limpid streams on symmetrically cut lawns. At 
 the end of the gardens, in a bower of weeping willows with 
 untrimmed branches, rises a small Silesian marble monument, 
 and in the middle of this kind of mourning piece is inerusted 
 an agate heart veined withered lines. It might have been 
 called a bleeding heart. On examining it nearer, these words 
 engraved on the agate may be read ; ' ' Repose in peace ! ' ' 
 Long before this inscription was engraved, and if my memory 
 is good, the eighth day of September, in the year 180-, a 
 man and a woman already^far advanced in life contemplated 
 this little monument. 
 
THE AGATE IIEAItT. 413 
 
 " My dear counsellor," said tlie old lady, " by what -singu- 
 lar fancy have you been led to erect this mournful little tent 
 under which, you say, your poor heart must repose some day 
 in this agate covering ? " 
 
 "Hush!" said the counsellor, pressing his companion's 
 arm; "call my conduct fancy, mania, singularity; but re- 
 member that I have suffered much to arrive at the point of 
 only finding repose near this image of death ! Even you to 
 whom I speak, oh Julia ! Julia, do you not remember that 
 you have caused me a cruel grief at the time when our hearts, 
 both young, might have poured into each other so many 
 flowers of hope, and such sweet fruits of love ? " 
 
 At these words, the counsellor and the old lady exchanged 
 a look full of emotion. — " It was not I, it was you yourself, 
 Max, that was to blame," replied she. " If you had not 
 remained so obstinately a fatalist, if you had not incessantly 
 sought to create around you a thousand causes of inexpressi- 
 ble torment to heart and spirit, I should not have been forced 
 to entrust my future peace to a man of less brilliancy than 
 yourself, but who was endowed with peaceful qualities. Oh ! 
 Max, do not reproach me with not having sufficiently loved 
 you ! It was you alone, I repeat, who created your own 
 grievances." 
 
 " It is true," said the counsellor, after a momentary silence. 
 4 ' I am forced to confess that my poor heart is incapable of 
 affectionate outpourings ; the imagination which controls it 
 has dried up its fibres. No being can love me, for there is 
 no longer anything sweet and sympathizing in me. Devoted- 
 ness would wreck itself against my existence, as it would ex- 
 haust itself against this heart of stone ! " 
 
 "And why this bitterness which excites you against your- 
 self?" replied the old lady. "You who do good to all 
 around you, and know how to administer consolation to the 
 sufferings of others, how is it that you find no balm for your 
 own afflictions ? how is it that you unceasingly distrust your 
 friends ? " 
 
 35* 
 
414 Hoffmann's Strang? stories. 
 
 "Ah! " exclaimed the counsellor, striking his forehead, " it 
 is because it has pleased God to give me a second sight which 
 pierces the future, which guesses the clangers, and which only 
 assists me 1 to foretell them at the price of continual anxiety ! 
 I believe that there is always near us an occult power opposed 
 to our happiness, which seems wholly occupied in seducing 
 and drawing us towards evils that cannot be remedied. I 
 suffer and I wrestle, I am unhappy in the midst of my ap- 
 parent happiness, as if I bore upon my forehead the mark of 
 a Cain ! " 
 
 " The same reflections still ! " said the lady, sighing deeply. 
 
 — " But, tell me, dear counsellor, tell me, to change this 
 lugubrious conversation, what has become of that young and 
 charming child, the son of your younger brother, whom you 
 received several years ago, with evidences of truly paternal 
 affection? " 
 
 "I have driven him away," cried the counsellor; "he 
 was a monster ! " 
 
 " A monster ! you do not mean it ; a child six years old ! " 
 
 " Yes/' replied the counsellor ; " you know the history of 
 that brother of whom you speak ; I have told you more than 
 once the infamous tricks he has played upon me, and all the 
 evil he has tried to do me in exchange for my many services. 
 You know how it was that, plunged into extreme misery, 
 thanks to his misconduct, he outwardly feigned towards me 
 the most hypocritical actions, to make me believe in his repent- 
 ance and gain my support ! You know how he profited by 
 his residence in my house to gain possession of certain docu- 
 ments But it is useless to fatigue you with these details. 
 
 The infamous man disappeared one day, to withdraw himself 
 from the effects of my just resentment. I took charge of this 
 child whom he had abandoned, and I only thought of prepar- 
 ing for his future a tranquil and honest destiny, when fate gave 
 me notice in time to allow me to shake off this serpent that I 
 was warming in my bosom." 
 
 " Nonsense," said the lady, " that was still another cream 
 of your restless 
 
TIIE AGATE HEART. ' 415 
 
 " You shall judge for yourself," continued the counsellor. 
 " My mind, harassed by grief that nothing could soften. I 
 had conceived the sad thought of having erected in this sar- 
 den the monument that you now behold, and under which I 
 wished my heart to repose when I should be no more. Well, 
 one day when I had come to visit the workmen, I perceived 
 this accursed child, who was named Max, like myself, playing 
 with this agate heart, which he used like a ball in the game 
 of ninepins. A sombre terror froze my soul. I saw in the 
 childish act the presage of evils that he might cause me some 
 day, and to cut short our relations, which no longer offered 
 anything but distrust and danger, I ordered my steward to 
 "rid me of the presence of this little rascal. I know that he 
 is in a safe place, but I will never consent to see him again 
 during my life." 
 
 " What hard heartedness ! what foolish vengeance for an 
 imaginary wrong ! " exclaimed the lady. — "Do not vex your- 
 self, Julia," said the counsellor, bowing, " the blows of fate 
 are of more importance than the imprudent sensibility of your 
 sex." At these words the privy counsellor Reutlinger offered 
 his hand to madame Foerd, and conducted her from the garden. 
 A short time after this there was gathered within castle Ruet- 
 linger a brilliant company invited to a triennial feast which 
 the counsellor called the good old times festival. All the 
 guests were expected to present themselves in the fashionable 
 costume of the year 1760, with wigs extravagantly cued, 
 laced coats, hooped dresses, and bird of paradise curls. It 
 was a kind of carnival, the sight of which was very piquant. 
 
 Two young men, Ernest and Wiilibald, met in a distant 
 walk in the garden. They looked at each other from head to 
 foot, then burst into a loud laugh, as the result of the scru- 
 tiny of their respective physiognomies, under the accoutre- 
 ment which they had borrowed from the counsellor's ward- 
 robe. 
 
 " By my faith," said Wiilibald, who first regained his seri- 
 ousness, " this worthy Kuetlinger's idea is not entire! v with- 
 
416 iiofioiann's strange stories, 
 
 out sense. Look and sec if those beautiful ladies are not 
 adorably coquettish under their feathers, which make them 
 look like stage duchesses. It is enough under these wigs to 
 make us improvise all the gallantries of the Pompadour 
 school, so furiously popular in France. But see how charm- 
 ing that young girl is ; that is Julia, madame Foerd's daughter. 
 I know not what restrains me from making a flaming declara- 
 tion to her, in a style at once ambiguous and delicate. I 
 should say to her : — " Oh, dear friend ! water which wears 
 away marble in falling drop by drop, — the anvil which har- 
 dens as it receives the often repeated blows of the hammer, — 
 the rays of the sun which— " 
 
 " Ah ! may the devil take thee," interrupted Ernest; 
 1 'thanks to thy extravagances, the beautiful Julia who was 
 coming towards us, ran away at the sight of thee like a fright- 
 ened gazelle. There is no doubt now that she imagines that 
 we are passing our time in laughing at the ladies in general, 
 and at herself in particular. She will go and put us under 
 the ban of all feminine society ! " 
 
 "Bah!" exclaimed Willibald, "it is well known that I 
 have the reputation of an impudent coxcomb, and the young 
 ladles are as wary of me as they would be of a dangerous 
 demon ; but, self-praise aside, I know the roads that lead to 
 the heart in spite of all obstacles, and I have sure means of 
 bringing people to me when I do not wish to make advances. 
 Let us yield ourselves to joy, and let us congratulate our 
 friend Reutlinger, whom I see coming this wa}^ in all his 
 pomp and pride." 
 
 Thus chatting, the two friends proceeded to a lawn in front 
 of the castle. A dozen persons, tired of the ceremony of acting 
 parts that afforded them very little amusement, had hung their 
 hats and wigs on the branches of some elder bushes, and were 
 playing a game at tennis, which the grave counsellor himself 
 had not refused to join. The players were suddenly inter- 
 rupted in the game by a musical charivari ; each one hastily 
 resumed his wi^ and laced coat. — "What have we now?" 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 417 
 
 said Ernest. — " That is a pretty question ! " exclaimed Willi- 
 bald. "I lay a wager that it is the arrival of the Turkish 
 ambassador ; it is thus they call, if you do not know it, the 
 baron Exter, the funniest original who has ever, in the memory 
 of man, walked under the heavenly vault. He was formerly 
 ambassador to Constantinople, and to believe his own story, 
 he has enacted in that country all the adventures, all the 
 illusions of the Thousand and one Nights. He goes so far 
 as to vaunt himself upon possessing the marvellous secrets of 
 the great king Solomon, the patron of the charlatans who call 
 themselves magicians. This baron Exter affects mystical 
 actions which produce great effect upon simple people ; and 
 thanks to his grimaces he has gained great ascendancy over 
 counsellor Reutlinger. Both are furious enthusiasts in the 
 doctrines of Mesmer, and I present them to thee as visionaries 
 such as are seldom seen." 
 
 Willibald had hardly finished this panegyric, when the ex- 
 Turkish ambassador entered the garden. He was a kind of 
 rotund little man dressed in the oriental costume, with the 
 exception of an enormous wig. powdered and curled, and a 
 pair of furred boots which he wore from private considerations 
 of health. The people who accompanied him playiDg the 
 fife and tambourine, were no less than his major domo and 
 three or four of his upper servants, ail greased with a thick 
 coat of black coloring matter, which gave them the appear- 
 ance of Africans, and dressed in pointed caps like those 
 worn by Spanish penitents. 
 
 The baron Exter leaned on the arm of an old officer who 
 appeared to have been resuscitated from the seven years* war. 
 This was general Kixendorf, military authority in the city of 
 
 Cr , who had muffled himself for this day's solemnity in 
 
 his old uniform covered with gold lace. — " Salama Milek," 
 said the counsellor to baron Exter, coming to meet him with 
 open arms. The baron took his turban off to return the salu- 
 tation of his worthy host and friend. At the same time some- 
 thing brilliant like a mannikin covered with gilded spangles, 
 
•118 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 moved from behind a large cherry tree ; this object repre- 
 sented the commercial counsellor Harscher in his official court 
 dress. 
 
 He made his way through the assistants to come and offer 
 his salutations to the Turkish ambassador, of whom he was 
 one of the most enthusiastic admirers. This personage had 
 resided in Italy during his youth, and he had come back with 
 a musical mania, which rendered still more ridiculous his 
 trembling falsetto, which he pretended to think was as capable 
 of executing trills as master Farinelli's throat: 
 
 " I will lay a wager," said Ernest to his friend, " that Mr. 
 Harscher has stuffed his pockets with cherries to offer to the 
 ladies ; but as the said pockets are lined with Spanish tobacco, 
 I doubt if his odoriferous gallantries will meet with a cordial 
 welcome." 
 
 The ambassador was received with great attention. The 
 pretty Julia Foerd approached to kiss the general's hand with 
 filial affection ; but the ambassador immediately embraced her, 
 kissing her on both cheeks, without being aware that by his 
 sudden movement he was crushing counsellor Harscher 's toes, 
 who uttered the most painfully comical cries. Baron Exter 
 drew the young girl aside, and began to chat with her, 
 animating his conversation with the most impatient gestures. 
 
 "That joker is full of the evil one then? " said Ernest to 
 his friend. — " I believe so," answered Willibald, "for al- 
 though he is the young girl's god-father, I know that he has 
 a hankering after her, and it might be that he has dangerous 
 designs upon her." 
 
 Suddenly the ambassador stopped short in his conversation, 
 extending his right hand before him, and cried out in his 
 loudest voice : " Fetch it ! " — " Good," said Willibald, " this 
 babbler is telling for the thousandth time his story of the sea- 
 dog. Now, you must know that the baron Exter occupied in 
 Turkey a lofty marble palace on the shores of the Bosphorus. 
 One clay when he was walking in the gallery, he heard a 
 piercing cry, he looked and saw by the water's side a Turkish 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 419 
 
 woman whose little child had just been siezed by a large sea- 
 dog. The poor mother in despair wrung her hands and wept. 
 Exter ran to the beach, waiked into the water until it reached 
 his knees, threw out his arm and cried out : — " Fetch it ! " The 
 sea-dog immediately reappeared holding his prey in his mouth, 
 and laid the child safe and sound at the feet of the enchanter ; 
 then plunged back into the waves, and Exter majestically 
 entered his palace, without giving the good woman time to 
 thank him." 
 
 Ernest received this tale with a homeric laugh. 
 
 " That is not all," added Willibald, who was desirous of 
 telling the whole story. " Baron Exter, not content with 
 this noble action, having learned that the mother of the child 
 was the wife of a poor workman, who had been long disabled, 
 sent her a considerable sum of money. The woman, in grati- 
 tude for so many benefits, came and begged of him to accept 
 as a mark of her esteem a little sapphire ring which she 
 wore upon her finger. Exter, believing this gift of very little 
 value, only accepted it in order not to offend by his refusal 
 the woman who so anxiously urged it upon him ; but what 
 was his joy when, shortly after, he examined this ring, he 
 deeyphered, thanks to his scientific knowledge, Arabic char- 
 acters whose interpretation apprised him that he was the for- 
 tunate possessor of the magic ring which the great Ali used 
 to call the doves of Mahomet, with whom he often had con- 
 versations in the language of' the other world." 
 
 "Here are certainly great marvels," said Ernest, "but 
 let us go and find out what is going on down there in that 
 circle, where the curious are standing on tip-toe to see some- 
 thing that is probably very interesting." 
 
 On approaching the group, the two friends distinguished in 
 the midst of it a little woman who looked like a Bohemian, 
 four feet high at most, with a head like a pumpkin, and who 
 was jumping and turning about with a strange velocity, sing 
 ing in a nasal tone ; " Gruide your fold, shepherdess ! " 
 
 " Wouldst thou believe," said Willibald, "that this shortened 
 
420 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 being is the sister of the beautiful Julia Foerd ? What a 
 mystification of nature ! " 
 
 This spectacle was sad and ridiculous ; the two friends left it 
 in order not to spoil their joy by reflections too philosophical ; 
 besides, the prelude to the concert called them to another 
 part of the garden. Reutlinger had taken a violin on which 
 he very skilfully played a sonata from Corelli, with an accom- 
 paniment on the harpsichord by general Bixendorf, and an- 
 other instrument by master Harscher. Then madame Foerd 
 sang an Italian romance by Anfossi, in the midst of which the 
 door of the pavilion in which the concert was going on was 
 suddenly opened. A good looking young man made 
 his way through the audience, and, falling at the feet of - 
 general EAxendorf, exclaimed in a broken voice : — " Oh ! 
 general, I owe you my safety ! how can I ever repay you ? " 
 The general appeared to be very much embarrassed by this 
 scene ; he raised the young man, drew him quickly behind a 
 hedge, and tried to calm his excitement. Everybody's curi- 
 osity was very much excited by this adventure ; they had all 
 recognized the young man as counsellor Foerd's secretary, 
 and every eye was turned inquiringly towards him ; but he 
 was gravely taking a pinch of snuff, and talking French with 
 his lady. Meanwhile the Turkish ambassador could not re- 
 strain his curiosity, and having asked for an explanation, the 
 counsellor contented himself with replying that he could not 
 guess what had inspired young Max with the idea of offering 
 this affront. 
 
 Then, to avoid further questioning, he left the pavilion, 
 and Wiilibald immediately followed after him. 
 
 The Foerd family was composed of three young ladies, 
 who did not imitate the indifference of their father. The 
 ugly Nanette agitated her fan and accused the young man of 
 incivility. Julia had retired into a corner, where she seemed 
 to avoid observation and hide her blushes. As for miss 
 Clementine, she was talking sentiment with a young and 
 handsome nobleman, who seemed to listen to her whilst eyeing 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 
 
 421 
 
 the refreshments that were being • brought by a servant. — 
 Willibald reentered ; all the guests pressed around him, 
 stretching out their necks and multiplying all the monosylla- 
 bles which constitute a question. Ernest's friend, whilst 
 answering that he knew nothing about it, assumed a cunning 
 look, as much as to say— "I have found out all about it." 
 Finally, as he was closely pressed, " Gentlemen,'' said he, 
 1 ' if you absolutely require that I confide this secret to you 
 in public, allow me before doing so to put two or three im- 
 portant questions to the company. Young Max, counsellor 
 Foerd's secretary, has he not always appeared to you endowed 
 with many brilliant qualities ? " 
 
 " Without any doubt," exclaimed the ladies unanimously. 
 "His studiousness, his laborious assiduity are they not nota- 
 ble?" 
 
 "Agreed!" said the men. — "Is he not finally what is 
 called a promising young man, of good social qualities, and 
 of the happiest character ? " There was but one cry of affirm- 
 ation.—" Well then, listen," continued Willibald. "A short 
 time ago a young master tailor was celebrating his betrothal. 
 John, the favorite servant of counsellor Foerd, was looking 
 through the windows at what was passing in the ball room. — 
 Suddenly he perceived Henrietta, a young girl whom he 
 loved. Beside himself with love and jealousy, he ran home, 
 put on his best livery, and presented himself at the ball room 
 door. They did not refuse to allow him to enter, but they 
 imposed this cruel condition upon him, that any journeyman 
 tailor should have the right to invite before hrm any lady that 
 he might choose to dance with, which obliged the poor devil 
 to content himself with ladies that no one cared about. Hen. 
 rietta was invited and accepted ; John, in a rage, knocked 
 her partner down and beat a number of the dancers who tried 
 to put him out ; but he was obliged to yield to force, far they 
 all united to throw him out of doors. Max was passing by 
 in the street at this moment, and delivered John from the 
 police who had been attracted by the noise, and were about 
 36 
 
422 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 to drag him to prison. But lie could not succeed in Calming 
 the exasperation of the furious John, except by promising to 
 exert himself to avenge his affront. 
 
 Now, this is what happened : Max the next day took a 
 large sheet of paper, and with a small pencil brush and a 
 little India ink he drew a magnificent goat. This goat ap- 
 peared to be bringing into the world an infinity of little tailors 
 armed with the tools of their trade, and scrambling as best 
 they could, in the most grotesque positions. At the bottom 
 of this caricature he wrote an inscription of rather loose char- 
 acter, which I should have some difficulty in remembering — " 
 
 " Spare yourself the trouble ! " exclaimed the ladies. 
 
 " I will go on then," continued the jovial Willibald. — 
 " Max gave his drawing to John. John ran and stuck it up 
 on the door of the inn where the tailors go to take their meals. 
 All the loafers in the neighborhood collected around it, and 
 the tailors could no longer show themselves in the street with- 
 out being saluted from all sides. They sought for the author 
 of this criminal joke, which had very nearly occasioned a 
 serious riot, and they talked of putting Max into prison for 
 safe keeping. The poor secretary, after having vainly con- 
 sulted twenty lawyers, went to the house of his protector, 
 r/eneral Blxendorf. 
 
 o 
 
 The general received Max kindly, and said to him : — " My 
 friend, you have done a foolish thing, but the caricature is 
 excellent ; there is something original and spontaneous in its 
 composition, but the idea is not new, and that is what will 
 save from all pursuit. 7 ' Saying this, the general searched an 
 old portfolio, and drew from it an old tobacco pouch — on which 
 the caricature of Max was almost wholly and exactly repre- 
 sented. Max took the tobacco pouch, and, by the advice of 
 the general, went before the judges and thus spoke to them : 
 — " Gentlemen, I never had the intention of offending the 
 honorable corporation of tailors ; my drawing is nothing but 
 a copy, the original of which you will see on this old tobacco 
 pouch which belongs to general Kixendorf. This work has 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 
 
 428 
 
 been stolen from mo by some malicious individual, whom I 
 regret not being acquainted with, as I consider that he merits 
 punishment. Besides, I defy any one to allege the least 
 motive that could have induced me to play this trick on the 
 venerable corporation to which the plaintiffs belong." Now, 
 as the former conduct of Max was found irreproachable, he 
 was acquitted without costs. This is what caused so lately 
 his joy and the expression of his gratitude. 
 
 All were not satisfied with this anecdote, which had the 
 appearance of a crude mystification of Wiilibald's own inven- 
 tion. But counsellor Beutlinger having given the signal for 
 the opening of the ball, the music from the orchestra drowned 
 all conversation • each one placed himself so as to figure as 
 advantageously as possible, and the adventure of Max was 
 forgotten. 
 
 The following day was to see the amusements renewed. — 
 But when the assembled guests only awaited the counsellor 
 to commence the festival, cries of anguish were heard, and 
 servants came from the garden, bearing poor Reutlinger in 
 their arms : they had found him insensible not far from tho 
 sepulchral monument which he had constructed in the bower 
 of weeping willows. They administered ether and tho strong- 
 est restoratives to him without effect, for nothing seemed to 
 reanimate him, when suddenly the Turkish ambassador cried 
 out : — " Stop there, stop there, bunglers that you are ! Let 
 me manage this ! " And immediately throwing his turban 
 far away from him, together with his wig, he commenced 
 making singular motions with his hands around the counsellor, 
 approaching gradually nearer the region of the stomach ; he 
 then blew his breath in Ileutlinger's face, who after ten min- 
 utes of this manipulation opened his eyes, and murmured in a 
 feeble voice: — " Exter, why have you awakened me? an 
 infernal power has revealed to me my near death, and I was 
 perhaps about to pass from life without suffering." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! thy hour has not yet come," said baron 
 Exter ; " drive away these foolish ideas ; thou art surrounded 
 
424 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 by joyful living beings, who will not allow you to quit this 
 world without the sound of drums and trumpet." 
 
 " No," said Reutlinger, groaning, " no, my friend, I do 
 not deceive myself concerning my position. I am sure that 
 I am nearing my end, and that my days will terminate with 
 some frightful misfortune." 
 
 " But," exclaimed general Rixendorf, pressing his hand, 
 1 ■ what has happened ? from whence come these terrors which 
 nothing can justify ? " 
 
 " Listen," answered the counsellor, wiping his pale fore- 
 head, which was bathed in a cold perspiration. " I was 
 passing along just now towards the bower of weeping willows ; 
 it seemed to me, on approaching it, that a plaintive voice 
 struck upon, my ear. I advanced with emotion, and what 
 did I perceive ? I shudder with horror at the remembrance 
 of it, I found myself before another myself! Yes, myself, 
 as I appeared thirty years ago, clothed in the same dress that 
 I wore on that day ; that when I was about to end my desper- 
 ate life by suicide, I saw my beloved Julia appear in all the 
 brilliancy of a heavenly beauty. Well, a short time ago this 
 scene was offered vividly to my eyes. An unnatural coldness 
 pervaded my veins, and I fell to the earth insensible." 
 
 " What ghost story are you telling us ? " exclaimed Rixen- 
 dorf. " It must be, my poor friend, that your brain is very 
 sick, to entertain such visions : try to vanquish these halluci- 
 nations, and amuse yourself ; your soul is pegged into your 
 body, and you are likely, in spite of your fits of hypochondria, 
 to bury us all. Besides, I will explain to you in a moment 
 the little reality there is in the dream which has so strongly 
 moved you." Saying these words, the general went out of 
 the room as fast as his old legs would allow. The Turkish 
 ambassador approached Reutlinger and said: — M The dear 
 old general does not believe in the power of the magnetic 
 fluid ; he is an obstinate materialist ; but we know, you and 
 I, what to think on the subject of apparitions." 
 
 Counsellor Foerd's wife soon came in. escorted by her hus- 
 
THE AGATE HEART. 425 
 
 band and Miss Julia. The counsellor licutlingcr then arose 
 from his chair, with the assurance that he felt perfectly re- 
 stored. As the company were about quitting the saloon to 
 take a walk, the door opened, and Bixendorf appeared, ac- 
 companied by young Max in military costume. Beutlinger, 
 at the sight of him, was seized with a nervous shuddering. — 
 " There is thy trouble and thy resemblance, my old friend," 
 said Rixendorf, pushing Max into the counsellor's arm. " It 
 is Max whom thou hast met in the bower, clothed in a 
 costume from thy wardrobe, under which I wished him to 
 reenter this castle, where his early childhood was passed. 
 Oh, obdurate and pitiless uncle, who has chased from thy 
 fireside, under the influence of an accursed superstition, thy 
 brother's son, I now give back to thee in the place of the 
 child whom thou hatest, an accomplished young man, ready 
 to love thee like a son. Come, let this heart yield for once 
 to the sweet sentiments of life ; banish the phantoms which 
 possess thy brain, in order to see life under consoling aspects. 
 Nothing hut love can render us happy here below ! " 
 
 Reutlinger was under the influence of a nervous crisis ; 
 his features changed, and his lips seemed to breathe away 
 what life remained in him ; his wandering eyes were fixed by 
 turns on Max and Rixendorf with an indefinable expression of 
 anger. At a sign from the general, Max spoke: — "Dear 
 uncle," said he, "have you not repulsed me long enough 
 from your bosom ? Will you condemn me to bear until death 
 the weight of the aversion that you had conceived for my 
 unfortunate father ? If he was ungrateful to you, his suffer- 
 ings have well avenged you. I saw him expire on a bed of 
 misery; with his last breath he spoke to me of you, and sup- 
 plicated me b> reconcile you to his memory by becoming your 
 son, the most tender and devoted prop of your age. Do 
 not reject his last desire ; have not a heart of stone, for God 
 would curse you for it ! " 
 
 Max fell at the counsellor's feet, and Julia Foerd knelt at 
 
 the same time and covered his hands with tears and kisses, 
 36* 
 
426 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 The secret of the love existing between these two young 
 people was then known for the first time. This touching 
 spectacle softened Reutlinger ; he sobbed aloud ; then a tor- 
 rent of tears eased his overcharged breast. — " Powers of 
 heaven,'' exclaimed he, " holy affections whose teachings I 
 have despised, you come to save me, you pluck me from the 
 influence of invisible spirits, who were torturing and showing 
 me unceasingly an abyss opening at my feet ! Be blessed 
 for the change which is taking place in me, for the relief that 
 you bring me, promising the cure of the wounds in my heart. 
 And thou, Max, my nephew, — my adopted son, and you 
 Julia, you whom he loves, and who love him, press me to 
 your loving hearts, so that I may no longer live except by 
 your affection ! " 
 
 All present were filled with emotion. Madame Poerd 
 thought that she was dreaming j she no longer recognized 
 the Reutlinger of former days. The marriage of Max and 
 her daughter gave her great joy. President Foerd exhausted 
 his snuff-box with visible satisfaction. Julia's sisters were 
 sought for to learn the news of this event ; the other guests 
 were about to congratulate the young couple on their ap- 
 proaching happiness, when the Turkish ambassador stepped 
 before them, took Max by the hand and said to him : — " Not 
 so fast ! Marriage ought to be the result of experience, and 
 in spite of thy talents thou art at the commencement of youth 
 as yet. You thrust your feet into trouble, you make carica- 
 tures, and you are not acquainted with the usages of society, 
 in the midst of which you aspire to create a new family. — 
 Your education, my boy, must be finished by travel. So 
 then, if you please, be off to Constantinople ; you will learn 
 in that country many things that it is useful to know, and 
 then you will be worthy and capable of marrying my pretty 
 god-daughter." 
 
 The company exclaimed loudly against the advice given by 
 baron Exter ; but he having taken his friend Reutlinger aside, 
 and whispered a few Arabic words in his ear, a decision was 
 immediately given. 
 
THE AGATE HEART- 427 
 
 6 ' Go to Constantinople, my dear nephew ; do me this favor, 
 for which I shall be infinitely grateful • and at your return in 
 six months, the wedding shall take place ! " 
 
 Julia put en a very captivating little pout ; but it was 
 necessary, in spite of all, that Max should pack up his trunks, 
 that he should go and visit the marble palaces on the Bospho- 
 rus, and perhaps many other places not less interesting. 
 
 Six months after this, the affianced lovers were married, 
 but they wept in the willow bower ; for counsellor Eeutlinger 
 had died of grief. His stony heart had broken, and on the 
 agate heart placed in his monument, Max caused to be 
 engraved these words : — " Repose in peace vjajo and ever 
 more ! ' ' 
 
t 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED 
 HOUSE. 
 
 & 
 
 ^Ic /7 
 
 The aspect of the numerous and brilliant edifices of V- 
 
 the luxury resulting from the many products of art and 
 industry of all kinds with which it is enriched from day to 
 day, form the delight of the loiterer, and the marvel of all 
 travellers. The street, lined with splendid habitations which 
 
 lead to the gate of , serves for a promenade to the 
 
 fashionable society who go to kill time by calling at each 
 other's houses. The lower floor of the houses is occupied by 
 elegant stores ; the upper stories are divided into comfortable 
 apartments. This is the fashionable quarter. 
 
 I had already travelled more than a thousand times up and 
 down this promenade, when my eyes fell by chance on a build- 
 ing whose strange construction strongly contrasted with those in 
 the neighborhood. Figure to yourself a square of stone wall, 
 pierced with four windows forming a first and single story, 
 the height of which exceeded but little the lower story of the 
 magnificent hotels which flanked it on the right and left. 
 This miserable building was covered with a still more misera- 
 ble roof, and nearly all the broken glass was replaced by 
 squares of gray or blue paper. The four windows were 
 closed. Those that formerly composed the basement had 
 been walled up, and at the door of the entrance, which was 
 narrow, low and without lock, you would have sought in vain 
 for the least sign of a bell. This ruined condition of the 
 building announced complete desolation ; this decayed struc- 
 ture had the appearance of having been abandoned for at 
 
THE MYSTERY 'OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 429 
 
 least a hundred years. A deserted house is not, after all, a 
 very astonishing thing ; but in such a rich quarter, on land 
 which might have yielded considerable revenue to the propri- 
 etor, there was certainly something in this to arouse the curi- 
 osity cf an idler, and I could no longer pass before the shed 
 without making a thousand conjectures concerning it. 
 
 One fine day, at the time when the fashionables crowded 
 each other like ants in a hill, I was reflecting, whilst leaning 
 against a portico which faced the deserted house ; a man 
 whom I had not seen for a long time suddenly came to a stop 
 
 near me, and drew me from my revery. It was count P , 
 
 a day dreamer as singular at least as I was myself. He had 
 reflected, like myself, enormously concerning the deserted 
 house. His suppositions had exceeded my own, and he had 
 succeeded in creating for himself thereupon so extravagant a 
 story, that the boldest imagination could hardly admit the 
 reality of it. But judge of the disappointment of the poor 
 count, when, after having brought his story to a startling end, 
 and in the most tragical fashion, he learned that the famous 
 deserted house was simply the work-room of a fashionable 
 confectioner, whose store was next to it. The windows of 
 the basement had been walled-up to hide from the sight of 
 the passers-by the furnaces and pans ; and the windows of 
 the first story had been stopped with paper, to preserve from 
 the rays of the sun and the insects the manufactured sweet- 
 meats which were stored there. This accursed information 
 produced the effect of a cold douche bath upon me ; it was 
 no longer possible to dream about it, there was no longer any 
 poetry in it ! it was enough to make a sensible heart and a 
 vivid imagination burst with rage. Nevertheless, in spite of 
 the matter of fact explanation that I had received, I could 
 not refrain from looking at the deserted house with an inex- 
 plicable dizziness that made me shudder. My astonished 
 mind angrily rejected this idea of confections taking the place 
 of the phantoms which had so powerfully occupied me ; and 
 I did not despair of seeing some day the fantastic world again 
 
130 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 take possession of this habitation. Chance, besides, was 
 again to throw me in the way of conjecture. 
 
 Several days after meeting with count P , passing at 
 
 midday before the deserted house, I saw a green taffety cur- 
 tain, which covered the window nearest the confectioner's shop, 
 move softly. A white and delicately formed hand, the pret- 
 tiest finger of which bore a superb diamond ring, stole gently 
 behind the curtain : I then saw an alabaster arm, ornamented 
 with a golden bracelet, follow it. The hand placed a crystal 
 flask on the window sill, and was withdrawn. 
 
 I remained there with my eyes fixed, my nose in the air, 
 and my feet glued to the pavement, making, you can believe, 
 such a funny figure, that in less than ten minutes a crowd of 
 idlers, of the upper class, closed round me, stretching open 
 their eyes to look the same way ; but there was no longer a 
 rosy hand, or alabaster arm ; the curious people got nothing 
 by their impertinence, and I said to myself, whilst making 
 my escape, that city people resemble, from little to great, the 
 simpletons of a certain town who gathered one morning before 
 a house, crying out a miracle, because a cotton night cap had 
 fallen from the sixth story without breaking a single stitch. 
 There was a thousand chances that the rosy hand and the 
 alabaster arm legitimately belonged to the wife, the sister or 
 the daughter of the confectioner, and that the crystal flask 
 prosaically contained a measure of gooseberry syrup. But 
 see how a restless mind, well balanced, knows how to arrive 
 at its object by the shortest way ! The idea came into my 
 head to go into the confectioner's shop to adroitly draw some 
 information from him. So that, whilst taking a chocolate 
 sherbet: — "Sir," said I to him, "you have chosen a fine 
 place for your establishment, and I find it very handy for 
 you to have the neighboring house in which you have^ placed 
 your manufactory."— At these words the honest tradesman 
 looked at me in surprise. 
 
 " Who in the devil's name could have told you," exclaimed 
 he, " that the neighboring house was at my service ? I should 
 
THE MYSTERY OE THE DESERTED HOUSE. 431 
 
 like it, certainly, above all things ; but in spite of all my 
 manoeuvres, the business is not concluded. Besides, after 
 due reflection, I am not much disappointed, for a thousand 
 extraordinary things must take place in this house, which 
 would singularly annoy a tenant who is fond of quiet." 
 
 God knows, dear reader, how my curiosity was roused by 
 these words. I tried to make the man communicative ; but all 
 that I could learn from him, by questions, was, that the de- 
 serted house formerly belonged to the countess S , who 
 
 now lived on her Estates, and had not been seen at this resi- 
 dence for several years. The house bore, besides, from time 
 almost immemorial, the same appearance that it now did, and 
 no one appeared to care to make the least repair to preserve 
 it from impending ruin. Two lone beings inhabited it ; an 
 old servant and a disabled dog who barked incessantly. The 
 people in the neighborhood were convinced that this old ruin 
 was haunted by ghosts ; for at certain times, and above all at 
 the approach of Christmas, strange noises were heard to trouble 
 the silence of the night ; sometimes the uproar arose to a 
 stunning discordance. On one sinide occasion the cracked 
 voice of an old woman had tried to yelp a kind of song from 
 the other world, in which was distinguished some French 
 monosyllables mixed with an unknown language. 
 
 "Here sir," said the confectioner to me, leading me into 
 his back shop? " look at this iron funnel which comes through 
 the partition wall ; I have sometimes seen, in the middle of 
 summer, a tremendous smoke come out of it, as if they were 
 making some hellish fire in the dilapidated house. I have 
 more than once scolded the old servant, and told him that 
 there was danger of a conflagration ; but the sullen fellow 
 pretends that it is the fire in his kitchen. Now, the devil 
 alone knows what this being eats, for the smoke that cv 
 from his cavern sometimes diffuses an odor which is very iiran- 
 lg." 
 
 At this instant, the shop door opening, agitated a little 
 sharp bounding bell. The confectioner excused himself foi 
 
4o2 Hoffmann's sthangjb stories. 
 
 the purpose of waiting upon bis customer ; and as I followed 
 him, I recognized, by a sign from the confectioner, the person 
 of whom we had just been speaking. Figure to yourself, 
 dear reader, a little dried up man with a yellow parchment 
 skin, a pointed nose, thin lips, green eyes, a simple smile, 
 powdered hair in the form of a pyramid ; his costume was 
 composed of a long thread-bare coat, the color of which 
 had formerly imitated burnt coffee ; his close fitting breeches, 
 were buttoned down over gray stockings, and his feet were 
 encased in square toed shoes with pinchbeck buckles. From 
 the sleeves of his coat appeared two robust fists, which hardly 
 accorded with a thin and whining voice that asked for pre- 
 served oranges, sugared chestnuts, sponge cakes and other 
 delicacies. The confectioner hastened to wait upon him, and 
 the old man drew from his pocket a well worn leather purse, 
 from which he drew forth one by one some pieces of smooth 
 change, which were hardly current. He paid grudgingly, 
 murmuring broken and unmeaning phrases. 
 
 "Are you ill, my dear neighbor?" said the confectioner, 
 " you appear to be quite melancholy : it is age, is it not ? it is 
 
 age " 
 
 "Ho, ho! ho, ho! ho, ho! who says that?" angrily 
 
 growled the satanic old man, making such a clumsy pirouette, 
 
 that in turning he very nearly crushed the paws of the little 
 
 black dog that accompanied him, and made the store windows 
 
 tremble in their frames, whilst the dog uttered piercing cries. 
 
 "Accursed beast! " said the old man, opening his bag of 
 
 sweetmeats to throw a cake to the cur, who was silenced by 
 
 his gluttony, and stood upon his hind legs with the grace of a 
 
 squirrel. 
 
 " Good night, neighbor," said the old servant, after the 
 dog had finished his pittance, "good night, neighbor; the 
 poor old man broken by age wishes you good luck and a long 
 life ! " 
 
 Saying this, he squoczed the confectioner's hand in his 
 long claw, so rudely that the man of sweets uttered a cry of 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 438 
 
 "You see, sir," said the confectioner, after the departure 
 
 of his customer, " this is the factotum of count S , and 
 
 the guardian of the deserted house, I give him notice from 
 time to time to quit his nightly disturbances ; but he has a 
 reply to everything; he is awaiting, he says, his master's 
 family, and that for so many years, that I am led to believe 
 that they will never arrive. I know nothing more about it, 
 and I have the honor to salute you, for this is the time that 
 the fine ladies besiege my store, and dispute about the sweets 
 that I invent every day for their pretty little mouths." 
 
 On leaving the confectioner I sought, in my own mind, for 
 some natural connection between the sad and singular song 
 which had been heard from the deserted house, and the beau- 
 tiful arm that I had caught sight of under the curtain, and 1 
 persuaded myself that, by an acoustic illusion, the confectioner 
 had taken for the squalling of an old woman, the mild, but plain- 
 tive song of a beautiful creature, persecuted and held captive 
 by some odious tyrant. I thought again of the disagreeable 
 smoke that came from the funnel, of the crystal flask that 
 had figured on the window sill, and I came to a conclusion, 
 without farther reflection, that the beautiful unknown who 
 had existed in my imagination, was the victim of an abomina- 
 ble sorcery. The old servant changed in my eyes into a disa- 
 greeable magician ; my brain became exalted, and diabolical 
 figures besieged my waking hours. By unutterable enchant- 
 ment, the alabaster arm became united in my thoughts with a 
 snowy shoulder that my eyes really perceived ; then the 
 adorable figure of a young girl veiled in white joined itself to 
 this kind of hallucination, and it seemed to me that silvery 
 mist, which half concealed from me the features of this beau- 
 tiful angel, escaped in endless clouds from the crystal flask. 
 To form, for the deliverance of this celestial being, the most 
 extravagant projects, was for my delirious thoughts the work 
 of a moment ; and I uttered aloud the most chivalric exclama- 
 tions, when it seemed to me that a skeleton hand patted me 
 on the shoulder, broke into a thousand pieces the crystal flask, 
 and the apparition vanished, leaving behind it the dyino- echo 
 of a mournful plaint. ° 
 
 The following day, I went early and posted myself in front 
 of the deserted house. Blinds had been added to the win- 
 dows since the night before. The house looked like a tomb. 
 Irambled about in the vicinity the whole of that day; when 
 night came I passed by it again ; the little door without lock 
 was half open, the man in the coffee colored coat was looking 
 
434 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 out.- I made bold to speak to him, — " Does not Binder, the 
 counsellor of the treasury, live in this house ? " said I to him 
 politely. 
 
 " No," answered the old man with a suspicious smile ; "he 
 has never set foot in it ; he will never come ink) it; and, what 
 is more, everybody knows that he lives far away from this 
 quarter of the city." 
 
 Saying these words, he drew back his head and shut the 
 door in my face. I heard him cough, then go slowly away, 
 the sound of footsteps being accompanied by the rattling of 
 keys, and it seemed to me that he descended into the interior 
 by a staircase. I had observed through the half opened door 
 that the entry was draped in old ragged tapestry, and fur- 
 nished with antique arm chairs, covered with scarlet cloth. 
 
 On the morrow, towards noon, an irresistible power carried 
 me back to the same spot. I saw, or thought I saw, through 
 the first story window, the green taffety curtain partly raised ; 
 then the glittering of a diamond, then the whole figure of a 
 beautiful person, leaning against the sash, held out her arms 
 towards me in a supplicating manner. Not knowing whether 
 I was awake, or this a dream, I sought for a place where, 
 without attracting the attention of the crowd, I could continue 
 my observations. There was a stone bench on the other sfde 
 of the street, exactly in front of the house; I went and seated 
 myself upon it. I raised my eyes, I looked again ; it was 
 really she, it was the beautiful young girl so deeply fixed in 
 my imagination ; she stood quite still, and her absent look 
 was not fixed upon me. I was tempted to believe that my 
 senses were abused by a beautiful painting. Suddenly a toy 
 pedlar came towards me, and begged me to buy something of 
 him to bring him luck, for he had not sold anything since the 
 morning. I angrily repulsed him at first ; but he insisted, 
 and spread out his wares before me ; he offered me a little 
 pocket mirror which he held before me at a certain distance, 
 and in such a manner that I saw reflected in it, with exquisite 
 clearness, the window of the deserted house and the angelic 
 figure of the young girl. This object so strongly tempted 
 -me, that I immediately bought it without disputing the price. 
 But I had hardly begun to make use of it myself, when il 
 seemed to me that a kind of magnetism drew my eyes towards 
 the mirror, and deprived me of the power of turning away 
 from it ; I suddenly imagine that I see the beautiful eyes of 
 my divine unknown interpose themselves between the glasb 
 and my own ; a sentiment of inexpressible tenderness warm; 
 my heart and makes it palpitate within me. 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 435 
 
 ' k You have a charming pocket mirror there," said a voice 
 quite near me. I awake as if from a dream, and great is my 
 surprise to find myself surrounded by a circle of people with 
 whom I am unacquainted, and who smile upon me in an 
 equivocal manner, as if they were looking upon a madman. 
 Finally the same voice repeats : — " You have a very marvel- 
 lous mirror there ; but might I ask what so strongly draws 
 your attention ? " 
 
 The individual who addressed this question to me appeared 
 to be a very respectable man, dressed with elegant simplicity ; 
 his mild and civil manner provoked my confidence ; I could 
 not refrain from avowing to him without reservation all that I 
 felt, and I asked him if he had himself observed this admira- 
 ble figure., 
 
 " Sir," said he to me, "I think that I have good eyes, 
 and God preserve me from using spectacles as long as possible. 
 1 have seen, as you have done, the figure of which you speak, 
 but I think that it is a portrait painted in oil and executed by 
 an excellent artist." 
 
 I hastily looked again, but the curtain had fallen and cov- 
 ered the window. 
 
 " Sir," added the gentleman, " the old servant of count 
 
 S -, to whom this barrack belongs, has just taken down the 
 
 portrait to wipe the dust from it, and then shut the window." 
 
 "Are you sure of it ? " exclaimed I in consternation. 
 
 "As of my life," exclaimed he ; " on looking at the object 
 in your mirror, you have been misled by an optical illusion ; 
 and I myself, when I was of your age and had your ardent 
 imagination, I myself might have been deceived by it." 
 
 " But I saw the hand and arm move ! " exclaimed I, foil- 
 ing back into a state of petrifaction difficult to describe. 
 
 "I cannot contradict you," said the man, with a smile on 
 his face, rising : and, fixing a look of ironical politeness upon 
 me, he left me, adding : — " Beware of mirrors manufactured 
 by the devil. I have the honor to salute you." 
 
 Can you understand, dear reader, what I must have suffered 
 at finding myself thus mystified and treated like a foolish 
 visionary ? . Filled with shame and anger, I hastened to shut 
 myself up in my own house, fully decided upon forgetting 
 the deserted house and my absurd flights of imagination. 
 
 Some business that I had to transact occupied several days, 
 and this helped to cool my brain. Only that, during the 
 night, I still felt at intervals, feverish excitement; but I 
 resisted it without much difficulty, and I had even succeeded 
 
436 HOFFMANN' 9 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 in adapting to common use the mirror that had so bewildered 
 me, when one morning, as I was about to make use of it at 
 my toilet, the glass appeared to me to be tarnished ; I breathed 
 upon it and then wiped it, when I tried it again — I shudder 
 still at the remembrance of it ! I saw in the place of my 
 own face that of the mysterious unknown of the deserted 
 house. Her eyes were moistened with tears, and fixed upon 
 me with a more harrowing expression than at first. 
 
 The sensation I then experienced was so violent that every 
 day after I did nothing but pass and repass before the deserted 
 house. The image of the marvellous young girl had taken 
 possession of all my thoughts ; I no longer lived but for the 
 phantom, and I began to feel that physical sensations were 
 establishing themselves between this being and myself, of an 
 unknown nature. I fell gradually into a state of languor which 
 was undermining my life ; it was a mixture of pain and 
 pleasure which exhausted me without allowing me to oppose 
 this supernatural influence. Fearing that I should become 
 mad, and having hardly strength enough to drag myself along, 
 I went with great exertion to the house of a physician, cele- 
 brated for his knowledge of the treatment for the prevention 
 of mental maladies ; I related to him all that had happened 
 to me since a certain time, and I begged him not to abandon 
 me to a state of mind worse than death. 
 
 " Tranquillize yourself, " said the doctor; " your mind is 
 disordered, but as you know the cause of the trouble that 
 occasions your suffering, it is already in good train for early 
 restoration. Give me in the first place your mirror ; go back 
 to your home ; undertake some labor that will absorb all your 
 attention, and, after having courageously labored, fatigue 
 yourself by a long walk ; then in the evening, see your 
 friends and enjoy yourself with them. Add to this prescrip- 
 tion a nourishing diet, and drink generous wines. Your 
 illness proceeds solely from a fixed idea ; let us succeed in 
 driving it away, and you will be radically cured." 
 
 I hesitated about separating myself from the mirror. The 
 doctor took it ; breathed upon it, wiped it and presented it to 
 me, saying,— " Do you see anything now ? " 
 
 " I see my own features, nothing more," answered I. 
 
 " That is well," said the doctor ; " now commence your- 
 self the same experiment." 
 
 A cry escaped from my lips, and I became very pale. " It 
 is she-! it is she ! " exclaimed I. The doctor took back the 
 mirror : 
 
 "As for myself," said lie, " I see nothing of the kind, 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 437 
 
 absolutely nothing ; but I must confess that the moment I 
 looked I felt an involuntary shudder. Have full confidence 
 in me, then. If there is a charm, it must be broken. Have 
 the kindness to try it again." 
 
 I breathed again on the mirror, whilst the doctor placed his 
 hand on my back bone. The figure appeared again, and the 
 doctor grew pale on observing the effect that this phenomenon 
 produced "upon my organization. He took the mirror away 
 from me, shut it up in a box, and dismissed me, after repeat- 
 ing the advice that he had given me, adding that we should 
 see by and by what was to be done. 
 
 From that day, I gave myself up to a multitude of dis- 
 tractions, and I led a noisy life, fit to relieve my mind by 
 physical fatigue. Sometime after this, I found myself one 
 evening in very jovial company ; a conversation turned upon 
 the occult sciences, magnetic experiments, and there was re- 
 lated on this subject the most surprising anecdotes. 4^11 the 
 gathered experiences in relation to dreams, hallucinations, 
 extacies, were passed in review, and it was finally seriously 
 asked if it might not be that a will existed beyond our life, 
 endowed in certain conditions with a real power over our facul- 
 ties, a power which would have full exercise without any mate- 
 rial contact. 
 
 " But," said one of the company, " to admit such a thesis 
 would conduct as directly towards recognizing as truths the 
 sorceries of the middle ages, and all the superstitions which 
 an enlightened philosophy, improved by the progress of science, 
 has long since consigned to oblivion." 
 
 "But," said a young physician, taking up the conversa- 
 tion, "must we, under pretence of wisdom and enlightened 
 philosophy, deny the existence of established facts? Has 
 not nature mysteries which our feeble organs fail to fathom 
 and comprehend ? And even as a blind man recognizes, by 
 the rustling of leaves, by the murmur of the running waters, 
 the neighborhood of a forest or a brook, can we not foresee 
 certain things in existence, by the invisible communication, 
 that certain minds have the gift of establishing with our own ? " 
 
 At these words I entered the lists. — "You admit, then," 
 said I to the young doctor, "the existence of an immaterial 
 principle, endowed with a power which, under certain condi- 
 tions, our will cannot repulse?"" 
 
 "Yes," answered he, " it is a fact that is proved by ex- 
 periments of serious men on persons subjected to magnetism." 
 
 "In that case," replied I ? "you must also recognize as 
 37* 
 
438 IfOJ?FMANN*8 STRANGE STORIES. 
 
 possible the existence of demons, evil beings provided with 
 qualities superior to our own? " 
 
 " That would be going too far," replied the doctor smilingly. 
 " I do not believe in evil spirits. My opinion is only that there 
 may exist in the chain of beings certain immaterial principles 
 capable of exercising upon others an irresistible action. But 
 I only found this idea upon simple observations, and I believe 
 that organs feebly constituted or debilitated by some excess 
 in life, are alone exposed to this kind of phenomenon." 
 
 " Sir," then said a middle aged man, who had not spoken 
 before, " if there exists, as you partly allow, hidden powers 
 opposed to our nature, I conclude, after some explanations, 
 that these powers only existed by the feebleness of our minds. 
 If imperfect organs or faculties, debilitated by excess or suffer- 
 ing, are alone subject to this physiological phenomenon, I 
 conclude that it is nothing but the unhealthy tone of our 
 minds, and consequently there does not exist aside from us 
 powers endowed with real action, intermediate between God 
 and ourselves. And now here is my own opinion, relative to 
 mental maladies which burthen us with temporary hallucina- 
 tions. I think that by the disturbance that it occasions in 
 the more delicate fibres of our organization, the passion or 
 love malady is the only affection of our souls which can pro- 
 duce disorders in our real life, and offer the example of a 
 power exercised in an irresistible manner by one individual 
 over another. I have made observations in my own house, 
 the details of which would furnish material for a complete 
 drama. At the time of the French invasion in our provinces, 
 conducted by Bonaparte, I lodged in my house a colonel of 
 the king of Naples' Guards ; he was an officer of great dis- 
 tinction ; but his features revealed the traces of af deep grief 
 or recent illness. A few days after his arrival, I surprised 
 him whilst giving way to paroxysms of grief which aroused 
 my pity. He was suffocated by sobs that deprived him of 
 the power of speech : and he was obliged to throw himself 
 upon a couch, gradually his eyes lost their animation and his 
 limbs became motionless ; he was as rigid as a statue. From 
 time to time he was convulsed, but had not the power of 
 moving from his place. A physician whom I hastened to 
 call, subjected him to magnetic influence, which appeared to 
 occasion him some relief; but he was obliged to renounce it, 
 for he felt that he could not restore the sick man without feel- 
 ing within himself a sensation of acute suffering which he 
 could not account for. Nevertheless, on recovering from his 
 attack, the officer, whose confidence he had gained by his 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 439 
 
 care, told him that during the crisis he had seen the image of 
 a woman whom he had known at Pisa, and that this woman 
 had a look which pierced him to the heart, like the burning 
 of a hot iron ; he only escaped from this singular pain to fall 
 into a kind of lethargy, following which he felt the most in- 
 tolerable headache, and a complete prostration of strength.' — 
 For the rest, he would never tell what had formerly passed be- 
 tween himself and the woman of Pisa. The order having been 
 given to his regiment to march, he had his breakfast served 
 whilst his baggage was being packed. But he had hardly car- 
 ried his last glass of Madeira to his lips, when he fell down dead, 
 uttering a stifled shriek. The physician thought that he had 
 been struck with apoplexy. Two or three weeks after this 
 accident, I received a letter addressed to the colonel. I 
 opened it, in the hope of finding some information concerning 
 the family of my guest : the letter came from Pisa, and only 
 contained these words, without signature : — " Poor friend, 
 
 to-day, 7 J , at noon, Antonia died, thinking that she was 
 
 in 3^0 ur embrace ! " 
 
 This was exactly the day and the hour of the colonel's 
 death. Try and explain this to me. I cannot, dear reader, 
 describe to you the fear that seized me on suddenly recognizing 
 the analogy which existed between my own internal sensations 
 and those experienced by the colonel. A cloud passed over 
 my eyes ; a ringing m my ears, as mournful as a funeral bell, 
 prevented me from hearing the end of the recital; and, my 
 imagination becoming suddenly exalted to delirium, I ran out 
 of the room, to go to the deserted house. It seemed to me, 
 from a distance, that I saw a light playing behind the closed 
 blinds : but when I was quite near, it no longer appeared. — 
 My hallucination increasing, I threw myself against the door; 
 it yielded, and I entered the vestibule, where I was suddenly 
 choked by a warm and pungent vapor. Suddenly I heard a 
 cry from a woman not two paces from me, and, I knew not 
 how, I found myself in a saloon resplendent with light, and 
 luxuriously decorated in the taste of the middle ages. Burn- 
 ing aromatics in censers embalmed the air with divine odors, 
 which floated towards the vaulted ceiling in azure clouds. 
 
 " Oh welcome, my betrothed ! for this is the hour of love ! " 
 said aloud the voice that I had already heard, and I then per- 
 ceived for the first time a young woman in a bridal dress, who 
 came towards me with open arms ; but when she came nearer, 
 I saw that she had a face, yellow and frightfully wrinkled by 
 madness. I started back in affright, but the woman continued 
 to approach, and I thought that I then discovered that this ugly 
 
410 HOFFMANN'S STRANGE BTOUIES. 
 
 face was nothing but a crape mask, under which appeared, 
 with charming distinctness, the enchanting features of my 
 ideal. Her hands already touched my own, when she fell 
 groaning to the floor, and I heard muttered behind me : — Ho, 
 ho ! to bed, to bed, your grace, or look out for the rod ! and the 
 gesture following the word, I perceived on turning round the 
 old servant, the man in the coffee colored coat, who was flour- 
 ishing through the air long birch rods, with which ho com- 
 menced switching the poor woman weepingly extended on the 
 floor. I threw myself before him and caught his arm ; but 
 he, shaking me off with more strength than I supposed him 
 possessed of, contented himself with saying to me : — * ' Do you 
 not see that had it not been for my interference, this mad 
 woman would have strangled you ? Go ! go from here as 
 quickly as you entered ! " 
 
 At these words, I became dizzy again, and sprang out of 
 the room, seeking for an opening to go out of th^ fatal house. 
 I heard, when I had succeeded in getting outside, the mad 
 woman's cries mingle with the noise of the blows which the 
 old man unsparingly dealt her. I tried to go back to her 
 assistance, but the ground gave away under my feet, I fell 
 from step to step down a staircase which led to a chamber, 
 the door of which was burst open in my fall. From the dis- 
 ordered bed, the coffee colored coat that hung over a chair, I 
 guessed that it was the den in which the servant, lodged. I 
 had recovered myself, when I heard heavy steps descend the 
 trembling stairs. It was the old man returning from his noc- 
 turnal adventure. 
 
 " Sir," exclaimed he, throwing himself at my feet, " who- 
 ever you may be, keep, I conjure you, an absolute silence 
 concerning all that you have seen here ; the least indiscretion 
 would ruin me, a poor old man who would no longer know 
 where to gain a support for his declining years. The mad 
 woman has been well punished, and I have securely tied her 
 to her bed. All is now quiet. Go then yourself, and repose 
 in your own home, my good sir ! sleep well, and try to forget 
 this night." 
 
 A short time after this occurrence, I met count P in 
 
 his saloon ; he took me aside to tell me that he had discovered 
 a clue to the mysteries of the deserted house. Supper, an- 
 nounced by a servant, did not allow me time to listen to the 
 narration that he was about to favor me with. I offered my 
 hand to a young lady to lead her into the supper room, the 
 customary ceremonial in fashionable society. Judge of my 
 surprise when, on fixing my eyes on her features, I recognized 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOrSE. 441 
 
 the face of the ideal being presented by my magic mirror, 
 when I wiped it after having breathed upon it. As I expressed 
 the thought that I had met her before, she quietly answered that 
 
 it was very unlikely, as she had just arrived at W for 
 
 the first time in her life. She accompanied her answer with so 
 charming a glance that I was electrified. We conversed to- 
 gether for some time ; I introduced into our chat a certain 
 boldness of expression which did not seem to displease her, 
 and she, on her part, pursued it with charming animation. — 
 When the champagne appeared, I attempted to fill her glass : 
 but the crystal, accidently struck, yielded a mournful sound, 
 I saw the face of my pretty companion grow mortally pale, 
 and it seemed to me that I had just heard the shrill voice of 
 the mysterious old woman of the deserted house. In the 
 course of the evening, I watched my opportunity to rejoin 
 
 count P . I learned from him that the beautiful person 
 
 who had so exclusively occupied me was the countess Edwine 
 
 de S , and that the sister of this young girl's mother was 
 
 confined as insane in the deserted house. That same day the 
 mother and daughter had visited the unfortunate recluse. — 
 The old servant had been suddenly attacked with a serious in- 
 disposition, and these ladies had admitted Dr. K into their 
 
 sad secret, expecting from his great skill more decided efforts 
 for the almost hopeless cure of the poor sick woman. At 
 
 this moment Dr. K , who was passing very near us, and 
 
 whom I had consulted with as to the steps to be taken to 
 drive away my hallucinations, stopped to inquire after my 
 health, and I obtained from him, by my entreaties, some 
 information concerning the history of the captive woman 
 of the deserted house. 
 
 Angelika, countess of Z , the doctor told us, was at 
 
 thirty in all the brilliancy of her charms, when count S , 
 
 younger than she by several years, became deeply in love 
 with her, and made every exertion to become acqainted with 
 her family. But when about to proceed on a visit to the 
 
 castle of Z , to demand the hand of the object of his 
 
 burning passion in marriage, he met Gabrielie, Angelika's 
 sister. This incident deranged all his feelings and suddenly 
 changed all his projects. Angelika, from that moment, lost 
 all the charms which she had at first appeared to possess in his 
 eyes, and Gabrielie became endowed with all that her sister 
 had formerly attained. It was Gabrielie who was asked in 
 marriage, instead of Angelika. The poor forsaken sister did 
 not complain ; her pride made her look upon her position very 
 complacently. 
 
442 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 " It is not," said she to herself, " this young coxcomb who 
 leaves me, but it is I who have no further use for him." 
 
 She had, nevertheless, suddenly ceased showing herself in 
 company, and she was only rarely met with in the most sombre 
 and least frequented parts of her father's park. 
 
 One day the servants of Z~ castle had given chase to 
 
 a band of Bohemian robbers, who for some time had desolated 
 the country by pillage and conflagration ; they brought back 
 with them to the castle a cart, to which they had carefully 
 tied their prisoners. Amongst the faces o£ these bandits, 
 the most remarkable physiognomy was that of a lean and 
 deerepid old woman, muffled up rather than dressed in scarlet 
 colored rags, and who, standing up on the cart, imperiously 
 cried out that she wanted to get down. The bonds that 
 restrained her were loosed, and she was allowed to descend. -r- 
 
 Count Z , informed of the capture that had been made, 
 
 left his apartment, and was busied in having the castle vaults 
 prepared to serve as a prison for the marauders that fate had 
 thrown into his power, when the countess Angelika suddenly 
 rushed into the castle court, her hair in disorder, and, fall in 
 at his feet, implored with tears in her eyes for mercy to the 
 Bohemians, and, drawing a dagger from her bosom, declared 
 that she would immediately kill herself if the least harm came 
 to these poor people, whom she declared innocent of all crime. 
 
 " Bravo, my beauty," cried out the old woman ; " I knew 
 that you would be a sure advocate for us ! " 
 
 And when Angelika, exhausted by this explosion of energy, 
 had fallen fainting, the old woman, breaking the cords that 
 still held her, threw herself on the ground by her side, and 
 lavished upon her the most careful attentions. She drew 
 from her basket a flask filled with liquid in which there ap- 
 peared to be a gold fish swimming ; and as soon as this flask 
 was placed upon Angelika's bosom, the beautiful girl opened 
 her eyes, sprang up with a bound as if a new life was circu- 
 lating in her veins, and, after having closely embraced the 
 old Bohemian woman, she dragged her precipitately into the 
 castle. Count Z — — , who had been joined by his wife and 
 his daughter Gabrielle, contemplated this strange scene with 
 a surprise that closely resembled fear. The Bohemians had 
 remained unmoved. They were closely confined in the sub- 
 terranean vaults of the castle. 
 
 The following day, a court of justice was called, and the 
 Bohemians, conducted into their presence, were subjected to 
 a severe trial, after which count Z himself loudly de- 
 clared that he believed them innocent of all mischief and 
 
THE MYSTERY OF THE DESERTED HOUSE. 443 
 
 robbery committed on his domains. They were set at liberty, 
 and passports were granted to them to continue their journey. 
 As for the old woman in scarlet rags, she had disappeared 
 without disclosing which way she was going. All reflected, 
 and formed a thousand conjectures to explain count Z - - -■ ? s 
 conduct. It was said that the Bohemian chief had had a 
 long interview with the count, in which extraordinary revela- 
 tions were mutually exchanged. 
 
 Meanwhile Grabrielle's marriage was about to be solemnized, 
 The evening before the day fixed for the ceremony, Angelika 
 loaded a carriage with ail that she possessed, and left the castle, 
 accompanied in her flight by a single woman whom it was said 
 
 much resembled the old Bohemian. Count Z , to avoid 
 
 the scandal, tried to give to this action a plausible motive, by *. 
 making known that his daughter, afflicted by a marriage that 
 excited her jealousy, had solicited from him the donation of a 
 
 little house situated at W -, where she had declared that 
 
 she wished to retire and end her days in the most complete 
 isolation. 
 
 After the espousal, count S went with his young wife 
 
 to D , in a situation where, during a year, they enjoyed 
 
 together the most perfect felicity ; after which the count's 
 health became suddenly enfeebled from some cause which 
 they were unable to discover ; an inward suffering seemed to 
 waste away his existence ; he refused all care, and his wife 
 could not obtain from him a confession of the hidden disease 
 with which he was languishing. Finally, after a long resistance, 
 he yielded to the advice of his physician, who prescribed a 
 change of scene. He went to Pisa. Gabrielle, who was 
 near giving birth to a child, could not accompany him on this 
 excursion. A short time after its birth, the little girl that 
 she had brought into the world disappeared mysteriously, and 
 without leaving any trace by which they could discover the 
 author of its abduction. Her desolation was pitiable to be- 
 hold, when, to increase her pain, a message arrived from her 
 
 father, count Z , which informed her that count S— , 
 
 who was thought to be at Pisa, had just died at W , in 
 
 the little house to which Angelika had retired, and that An- 
 gelika had become frightfully demented, against which ca- 
 lamity the physicians declared that ail science was powerless, 
 
 Poor Gabrielle went back to her father. One night as she 
 was sadly reflecting on the double loss of her husband and 
 child, she heard a sound as of some one sobbing. She lis- 
 tened ; this feeble noise seemed to proceed from a neighboring 
 apartment ; she anxiously arose, took her night lamp, and 
 
444 Hoffmann's strange stories. 
 
 softly opened the door. Great heaven, what did sho see ! — 
 The old Bohemian woman, dressed in searlet rags, seated on 
 the floor, her eyes fixed and glassy ; a child is struggling in 
 her arms, uttering uneasy cries. The countess Gabrielle 
 immediately recognized her child ; she sprang forward with 
 irresistible energy , snatched the child from the old woman, 
 who tried to resist her ; but this violence exhausted her re- 
 maining strength, and she fell heavily to rise no more. The 
 countess uttered cries of fear ; the servants are aroused, and 
 all hasten to the scene, but there no longer remains anything 
 
 but a corpse to be consigned to the earth. Count Z 
 
 went to the little house in W to question Angelika con- 
 cerning the child that had been lost and found again. In the 
 presence of her father, the poor mad woman seems to recover 
 her reason for awhile ; but the disease soon regains its empire ; 
 Angelika again raves, her features become deformed and bear 
 an odious resemblance to the face of the old Bohemian woman. 
 She weeps, she sobs ; then with frenzied accents and savage 
 voice, she orders the attendants to withdraw and leave her 
 alone. 
 
 The unfortunate father gives out to the world that the mad 
 woman is shut up in one of his castles ; but the truth is that 
 Angelika would not leave her retreat. She still inhabits 
 
 alone the little house to which count S came to die by 
 
 her side. The secret of what passed at last between these 
 two beings remained unknown. 
 
 Count Z is dead. Gabrielle came to W with 
 
 Edwine, to make some family arrangements. As for the re- 
 cluse of the deserted house, she is left to the care of a brutal 
 old servant who has become a maniac through madness and 
 savageness. 
 
 Dr. K finished his recital by saying that my unex- 
 pected presence in the deserted house had produced on the 
 bewildered senses of Angelika a crisis, the result of which 
 might establish an equilibrium in her faculties. For the 
 rest, the deliciously beautiful image that I had seen reflected 
 in my pocket mirror was that of Edwine, who at the time of 
 my curious contemplation was visiting Angelika's asylum. A 
 few days after these events that had nearly deranged my brain, 
 a feeling of deepest sadness obliged me to quit for a time 
 
 my residence in W -. This strange influence was not 
 
 entirely dissipated until after the death of the mad woman of 
 the deserted house, 
 
 < 
 
iliiliSi , 
 
 0220123868