_MASTER JOHANNES WACHT._[1]
At the time when people in the beautiful and pleasant town of Bamberglived, according to the well-known saying, well, _i.e._, under thecrook, namely in the end of the previous century, there was also oneinhabitant, a man belonging to the burgher class, who might be calledin every respect both singular and eminent His name was Johannes Wacht,and his trade was that of a carpenter.
Nature, in weighing and definitely determining her children'sdestinies, pursues her own dark inscrutable path; and all that isclaimed by convenience, and by the opinions and considerations whichprevail in man's narrow existence, as determining factors in settlingthe true tendency of every man's self. Nature regards as nothing morethan the pert play of deluded children imagining themselves to be wise.But short-sighted man often finds an insuperable irony in thecontradiction between the conviction of his own mind and the mysteriousordering of this inscrutable Power, who first nourished and fed him ather maternal bosom and then deserted him; and this irony fills him withterror and awe, since it threatens to annihilate his own self.
The mother of Life does not choose for her favourites either thepalaces of the great or the state-apartments of princes. And so shemade our Johannes, who, as the kindly reader will soon learn, might becalled one of her most richly endowed favourites, first see the lightof the world on a wretched heap of straw, in the workshop of animpoverished master turner in Augsburg. His mother died of want andfrom suffering soon after the child's birth, and his father followedher after the lapse of a few months.
The town government had to take charge of the helpless boy; and whenthe Council's master carpenter, a well-to-do, respectable man, whofound in the child's face, notwithstanding that it was pinched withhunger, certain traits which pleased him,--when he would not suffer theboy to be lodged in a public institution, but took him into his ownhouse, in order to bring him up along with his own children, then theredawned upon Johannes his first genial ray of sunshine, heralding ahappier lot in the future.
In an incredibly short space of time the boy's frame developed, so thatit was difficult to believe that the little insignificant creature inthe cradle had really been the shapeless colourless chrysalis out ofwhich this pretty, living, golden-locked boy had proceeded, like abeautiful butterfly. But--what seemed of more importance--along withthis pleasing grace of physical form the boy soon displayed sucheminent intellectual faculties as astonished both his foster-father andhis teachers. Johannes grew up in a workshop which sent forth some ofthe best and highest work that mechanical skill was able to produce,since the master carpenter to the Council was constantly engaged uponthe most important buildings. No wonder, therefore, that the child'smind, which caught up everything with such keen clear perception,should be excited thereby, and should feel all his heart drawn towardsa trade the deeper significance of which, in so far as it was concernedwith the material creation of great and bold ideas, he dimly felt deepdown in his soul. The joy that this bent of the orphan's mindoccasioned his foster-father may well be conceived; and hence he feltpersuaded to teach the boy all practical matters himself with greatcare and attention, and furthermore, when he had grown into a youth, tohave him instructed by the cleverest masters in all the higher branchesof knowledge connected with the trade, both theoretical and practical,such as, for instance, drawing, architecture, mechanics, &c.
Our Johannes was four and twenty years of age when the old mastercarpenter died; and even at that time his foster-son was a thoroughlyexperienced and skilful journeyman in all branches of his craft, whoseequal could not be found far and near. At this period Johannes set out,along with his true and faithful comrade Engelbrecht, on the usualjourneyman's[2] travels.
Herewith you know, indulgent reader, all that it is needful to knowabout the youth of our worthy Wacht; and it only remains to tell you ina few words how it was that he came to settle in Bamberg and how hebecame master there.
After being on the travel for a pretty long time he happened to arriveat Bamberg on his way home along with his comrade Engelbrecht; andthere they found the Bishop's palace undergoing thorough repair, andparticularly on that side of it where the walls rose up to a greatheight out of a very narrow alley or court. Here an entirely new roofwas to be put up, of very great and very heavy beams; and they wanted amachine, which, whilst taking up the least possible room, would possesssufficient concentration of power to raise the heavy weights up to therequired height. The Prince-bishop's builder, who knew how to calculateto a nicety how Trajan's Column in Rome had been made to stand, andalso knew the hundred or more mistakes that had been made which heshould never have laid himself open to the reproach of committing, hadindeed constructed a machine--a sort of crane--which was very nice tolook at, and was praised by everybody as a masterpiece of mechanicalskill; but when the men tried to set the thing agoing, it turned outthat the Herr builder had calculated upon downright Samsons andHerculeses. The wheels creaked and squeaked horribly; the huge beamswhich were hooked on to the crane did not budge an inch; the mendeclared, whilst shaking the sweat from their brows, that they wouldmuch sooner carry ships' mainmasts up steep stairs than strainthemselves in this way, and waste all their best strength in vain oversuch a machine; and there matters remained.
Standing at some distance, Wacht and Engelbrecht looked on at what theywere doing, or rather, not doing; and it is possible that Wacht mayhave smiled just a little at the builder's want of knowledge.
A grey-headed old foreman, recognising the strangers' handicraft fromtheir clothing, stepped up to them without more ado, and asked Wacht ifhe understood how to manage the machine any better since he looked socunning about it. "Ah, well!" replied Wacht, without being in the leastdisconcerted, "ah well; it's a doubtful point whether I know better,for every fool thinks he understands everything better than anybodyelse; but I can't help wondering that in this part of the country youdon't seem to be acquainted with a certain simple contrivance, whichwould easily perform all that the Herr Builder yonder is vainlytormenting his men to accomplish."
The young man's bold answer nettled the grey-haired old foreman not alittle; he turned away muttering to himself; and very soon it was knownto them all that a young stranger, a carpenter's journeyman, hadlaughed the builder together with his machine to scorn, and boastedthat he was acquainted with a more serviceable contrivance. As isusually the case, nobody paid any heed to it; but the worthy builder aswell as the honourable guild of carpenters in Bamberg were of opinionthat the stranger had not, it was to be presumed, devoured up all thewisdom of the world, nor would he presume to dictate to and teach oldand experienced masters. "Now do you see, Johannes," said Engelbrechtto his comrade, "now do you see how your rash boldness has againprovoked against you the people whom we must meet as comrades of thecraft?"
"Who can, who may look on quietly," replied Johannes, whilst his eyesflashed, "when the poor labourers--I'm sure they're to be pitied--aretormented so and made to work beyond all reason, and that all to nopurpose. And who knows whether my rash boldness may not, after all,have beneficial consequences?" And it really turned out to be so.
One single individual, of such pre-eminent intellectual capacity thatno gleam of knowledge, however fugitive it might be, ever escaped hiskeen penetration, attached a quite different importance to the youth'swords from what the rest did, for the builder had reported them to himas the presumptuous saying of a young fledgling carpenter. This man wasthe Prince-bishop himself. He had the young man summoned to hispresence, that he might inquire further into the import of his words,and was not a little astonished both at his appearance and at hisgeneral bearing and character. My kindly reader ought to know what thisastonishment was due to, and now is the time to tell him something moreabout Johannes Wacht's exterior and Johannes Wacht's mind and thoughts.
As far as his face and figure were concerned, he might justly be calleda remarkably handsome young fellow, and yet his noble features andmajestic stature did not attain to full perfection until after he ha
dreached a riper manhood. AEsthetic canons of the cathedral creditedJohannes with having the head of an old Roman; a younger member of thesame fraternity, who even in the severest winter was in the habit ofgoing about dressed in black silk, and who had read Schiller's_Fiesko_, maintained, on the contrary, that Johannes Wacht wasVerrina[3] in the flesh.
But the mysterious charm by means of which many highly-gifted men areenabled to win at once the confidence of those whom they approach doesnot consist in beauty and grace of external form alone. We in a certainsense feel their superiority; yet this feeling is by no means anoppressive feeling as might be imagined; but, whilst elevating thespirit, it also excites a certain kind of mental comfort that does usan incalculable amount of good. All the factors of the physical andintellectual organism are united into a whole by the most perfectharmony, so that the contact with the superior soul is like a purestrain of music; it suffers no discord. This harmony creates thatinimitable deportment, that--one might almost say--comfort inthe slightest movements, through which the consciousness of truehuman dignity is proclaimed. This deportment can be taught by nodancing-master, by no Prince's tutor; and well and rightly does itdeserve its proper name of the distinguished deportment, since it isstamped as such by Nature herself. Here need only be added that MasterWacht, unflinchingly constant in generosity, truth, and faithfulness tohis burgher standing, became as the years went on ever more a man ofthe people. He developed all the virtues, but at the same time all theunconquerable prejudices, which are generally wont to form theunfavourable sides of such men's characters. My kindly reader will soonlearn of what these prejudices consisted.
I have now perhaps sufficiently explained why it was that the youngman's appearance made such an uncommon impression upon the respectedPrince-bishop. For a long time he observed the stalwart young workmanin silence, but with visible satisfaction; then he questioned him abouthis previous life. Johannes answered all his questions candidly andmodestly, and finally explained to the Prince with convincingclearness, that the master-builder's machine, though perhaps fitted forother purposes, would in the present case never effect what it wasintended to do.
In reply to the Prince's inquiry whether he could indeed trust himselfto specify a machine that would be more suitable for the purpose,namely, to raise the heavy weights, the young man replied that all herequired to construct such a machine was a single day, and the help ofhis comrade Engelbrecht and a few skilful and willing labourers.
It may be conceived with what malicious and mischievous inward joy, andwith what impatience the master-builder, and all who were connectedwith him, looked forward to the morrow, when the forward stranger wouldbe sent off home covered with shame and ridicule. But things turned outdifferent from what these good-hearted people had expected, or indeedhad wished.
Three capsterns suitably situated and so arranged as to exert an effectone upon another, and each only manned by eight labourers, elevated theheavy beams up to the giddy level of the roof with so much ease thatthey appeared to dance in the air. From this moment the brave clevercraftsman could date the foundation of his reputation in Bamberg. ThePrince urged him seriously to stay in that town and secure hismastership; towards the attainment of this end he would lend him allthe assistance he possibly could. Wacht, however, hesitated,notwithstanding that he was very well pleased with the pleasant andcheap town of Bamberg. The fact that several important buildings werejust then in course of erection put a heavy weight into the scale forstaying; but the final turn to the balance was given by a circumstancewhich is very often wont to decide matters in life; namely, JohannesWacht found again quite unexpectedly in Bamberg the beautiful virtuousmaiden whom he had seen several years previously in Erlangen, and intowhose friendly blue eyes he had then peeped a little too much. In a fewwords, Johannes Wacht became master, married the virtuous maiden ofErlangen, and soon contrived through industry and skill to purchase apretty house on the Kaulberg,[4] which had a large tract of gardenground stretching away back up the hill, and there he settled down forlife.
But upon whom does the friendly star of good fortune shine unchangeablywith the same degree of splendour at all times? Providence had decreedthat our honest Johannes should be submitted to a trial under whichperhaps any other man, with less firmness of spirit, would have sunk.The first fruit of this very happy marriage was a son, an excellentyouth, who appeared to be walking steadfastly in his father'sfootsteps. He was eighteen years of age when one night a large firebroke out not far from Wacht's house. Father and son hurried to thespot, agreeably to their calling, to help in extinguishing the flames.Along with other carpenters the son boldly clambered up to the roof inorder to cut away its burning framework, as far as could be done. Hisfather, who had remained below, as he always did, to direct thedemolition of walls, &c., and to superintend the work of extinction,looked up and seeing the imminent danger shouted, "Johannes! men! comedown! come down!" Too late--with a fearful crash the wall fell in; theson lay struck to death in the flames, which leapt up crackling louderas if in horrid triumph.
But this terrible blow was not the only one which was to fall upon poorJohannes. An inconsiderate maid-servant burst with a frantic cry ofdistress into her mistress' room, who was only partly convalescent froma distracting nervous disorder, and was in great uneasiness and anxietyabout the fire, the dark-red reflection of which was flickering on thewalls of her chamber. "Your son, your Johannes, is killed; the wall hasburied him and his comrades in the middle of the flames," screamed thegirl. As though stung with sharp, sudden pain, her mistress raisedherself up in the bed; but breathing out a deep sigh, she sank backupon the cushions again. She was struck with paralysis of the nerves;she was dead.
"Now let us see," said the citizens, "how Master Wacht will bear hisgreat trouble. He has often enough preached to us that a man ought notto succumb to the greatest misfortune, but ought to bear his head erectand strive with the strength which the Creator has planted in everyman's breast to withstand the misery that threatens him, so long as thecontrary is not evidently decreed in the Eternal counsels. Let us seenow what sort of an example he will give us."
They were not a little astonished when, although the master himself wasnot seen in the workshop, yet his journeymen's activity continuedwithout interruption, so that work never stood still for a singlemoment, but went on just as if the master had not experienced anytrouble.
With steadfast courage and firm step, and with his face shining withall the consolation and all the hope that sprang from his belief--thetrue religion rooted deep down in his breast--he had followed thecorpses of his wife and son; and on the noon of the same day after thefuneral, which had taken place in the morning, he said to Engelbrecht,"Engelbrecht, it is now necessary for me to be alone with my grief,which is almost breaking my heart, in order that I may becomeacquainted with it and strengthen myself against it. You, brother, myhonest, industrious foreman, will know what to do for a week; for thatspace I am going to shut myself up in my own chamber."
And indeed for a whole week Master Wacht never left his room. The maidfrequently brought down his food again untouched; and they often heardin the passage his low, sad cry, cutting them to the quick, "O my wife!O my Johannes!"
Many of Wacht's acquaintances were of opinion that he ought not by anymeans to be left in this solitary state; by brooding constantly overhis grief his mind might become unsettled Engelbrecht, however, metthem with the reply, "Let him alone; you don't know my Johannes. SinceProvidence, in its inscrutable purposes, has sent him this hard trial,it has also given him strength to overcome it, and all earthlyconsolation would only outrage his feelings. I know in what manner heis working his way out of his deep grief." These last words Engelbrechtuttered with a well-nigh cunning look upon his face; but he would notgive any further information as to what he meant. Wacht's acquaintanceshad to content themselves, and leave the unfortunate man in peace.
A week was passed, and early the next morning, which was a brightsummer morning, at five o'clock Master Wacht came out un
expectedly intothe workyard amongst his journeymen, who were all hard at work. Theiraxes and saws stopped, whilst they greeted him with a half-sorrowfulcry, "Master Wacht! Our good Master Wacht!"
With a cheerful face, upon which the traces of the struggle againstgrief which he had gone through had deepened the expression of sterlinggood-nature and given it a most touching character, he stepped amongsthis faithful workpeople and told them how the goodness of Heaven hadsent down the spirit of mercy and consolation upon him, and that he wasnow filled with strength and courage to go on and discharge the dutiesof his calling. He betook himself to the building in the middle of theyard, which served for the storage of the tools at night, and forkeeping the plans and memoranda of work, &c. Englebrecht, thejourneymen, the apprentices, followed him in a string. On entering,Johannes stood rooted to the spot.
His poor boy's axe, which was identified by certain distinctive marks,had been found with half-charred handle under the ruins of the housethat had been burnt down. His companions had fastened it high up on thewall directly opposite the door, and, in a rather rude attempt at art,had painted round it a wreath of roses and cypress-branches; andunderneath the wreath they had placed their beloved comrade's name,together with the year of his birth and the date of the ill-omenednight when he had met such a violent death.
"Poor Hans!"[5] exclaimed Master Wacht on perceiving this touchingmonument of the true faithful spirits, whilst a flood of tears gushedfrom his eyes. "Poor Hans! the last time you wielded that tool was forthe welfare of your brothers; but now you are resting in your grave,and will never more stand by my side and use your earnest industry inhelping to forward a good piece of work."
Then Master Wacht went round the circle and gave each journeyman andeach apprentice a good honest shake of the hand, saying, "Think ofhim." Then they all went back to their work, except Engelbrecht, whomWacht bid stay with him.
"See here, my old comrade," cried Wacht, "what extraordinary means theEternal Power has chosen to help me to overcome my great trouble.During the days when I was almost heart-broken with grief for my wifeand child, whom I have lost in such a terrible way, there came into mymind the idea of a highly artistic and complicated trussed girder,which I had been thinking about for a long time without ever being ableto see my way to the thing clearly. Look here."
Therewith Master Wacht unrolled the drawing at which he had workedduring the past week, and Engelbrecht was greatly astonished at theboldness and originality of the invention no less than at itsexceptional neatness in the finished state. The mechanical part of thecontrivance was so skilfully and cleverly arranged that evenEngelbrecht, with all his great experience, could not comprehend it atonce; but the greater therefore was his glad admiration when MasterWacht explained to him the whole construction down to the minutestdetails, and he had convinced himself that the putting of the plan intoexecution could not fail to be successful.
At this time Wacht's household consisted of only two daughters besideshimself; but it was very soon to be increased.
Albeit a clever and industrious workman, Master Engelbrecht had neverbeen able to advance so far as that lowest grade of affluence which hadbeen the reward of Wacht's very earliest undertakings. He had tocontend with the worst enemy of life, against which no human power isof any avail; it not only threatened to destroy him, but really diddestroy him--namely, consumption. He died, leaving a wife and two boysalmost in want. His wife went back to her own home; and Master Wachtwould willingly have taken both boys into his own house, but this couldonly be arranged in the case of the elder, who was called Sebastian. Hewas a strong intelligent lad, and having an inclination to follow hisfather's trade, promised to make a good clever carpenter. He had,however, a certain refractoriness of disposition, which at times seemedto border closely upon badness, as well as being somewhat rude in hismanners, and even often wild and untamable; but these ill qualitiesWacht hoped to conquer by wise training. The younger boy, Jonathan byname, was exactly the opposite of his elder brother; he was a verypretty little boy, but rather fragile, his blue eyes laughing withgentleness and kind-heartedness. This boy had been adopted during hisfather's lifetime by Herr Theophilus Eichheimer, a worthy doctor oflaw, as well as the first and oldest advocate in the place. Noticingthe boy's remarkably good parts, as well as his most decided bent forknowledge, he had taken him to train him for a lawyer.
And here one of those unconquerable prejudices of our Wacht came tolight which have been already spoken of above, namely, he was perfectlyconvinced in his own mind that everything understood under the name oflaw was nothing else but so many phrases artificially hammered outand put together by lawyers, with the sole purpose of perplexing thetrue feeling of right which had been planted in every virtuous man'sbreast. Since he could not exactly shut his eyes to the necessity forlaw-courts, he discharged all his hatred upon the advocates, whom as aclass he conceived to be, if not altogether miserable deceivers, yet atany rate such contemptible men that they practised usury in shamefulfashion with all that was most holy and venerable in the world. It willbe seen presently how Wacht, who in all other relations of life was anintelligent and clear-sighted man, resembled in this particular thecoarsest-minded amongst the lowest of the people. The further prejudicethat he would not admit there was any piety or virtue amongst theadherents of the Roman Catholic Church, and that he trusted noCatholic, might perhaps be pardoned him, since he had imbibed theprinciples of a well-nigh fanatical Protestantism in Augsburg. It maybe conceived, therefore, how it cut Master Wacht to the heart to seethe son of his most faithful friend entering upon a career that he sobitterly detested.
The will of the deceased, however, was in his eyes sacred; and it was,moreover, at any rate certain that Jonathan with his weakly body couldnot be trained up to any handicraft that made any very large demandupon physical strength. Besides, when old Herr Theophilus Eichheimertalked to the master about the divine gift of knowledge, at the sametime praising little Jonathan as a good intelligent boy, Wacht for themoment forgot the advocate, and law, and his own prejudice as well. Hefastened all his hopes upon the belief that Jonathan, who bore hisfather's virtues in his heart, would give up his profession when hearrived at riper years, and was able to perceive all the disgrace thatattached to it.
Though Jonathan was a good, quiet boy, fond of studying in-doors,Sebastian was all the oftener and all the deeper engaged in all kindsof wild foolish pranks. But since in respect to his handiwork hefollowed in his father's footsteps, and no fault could ever be foundwith his industry or with the neatness of his work, Master Wachtascribed his at times too outrageous tricks to the unrefined untamedfire of youth, and he forgave the young fellow, observing that he wouldbe sure to sow his wild oats when on his travels.
These travels Sebastian soon set out upon; and Master Wacht heardnothing more from him until Sebastian, on attaining his majority, wrotefrom Vienna, begging for his little patrimonial inheritance, whichMaster Wacht sent to him correct to the last farthing, receiving inreturn a receipt for it drawn up by one of the Vienna courts.
Just the same sort of difference in character as distinguished theEngelbrechts was noticeable also between Wacht's two daughters, of whomthe elder was called Rettel[6] and the younger Nanni.
It may here be hastily remarked in passing, that, according to thetaste generally prevalent in Bamberg, the Christian name Nanni is theprettiest and finest a girl can well have. And so, kindly reader, ifyou ever ask a pretty child in Bamberg, "What is your name, my littleangel?" the little thing will be sure to cast down her eyes in shyconfusion and tug at her black silk apron, and whisper in friendlyfashion with a slight blush upon her cheeks, "'N! 'N! Nanni, y'rhonour."
Rettel, Wacht's elder daughter, was a fat little thing, with red rosycheeks and right friendly black eyes, with which she looked boldly intothe face of the sunshine of life, as it had dawned upon her, withoutblinking. In respect of her education and her character she had notrisen a hair's breadth above the sphere of the handicraftsman. Shegossiped with her fe
male relatives and friends, and liked dressingherself, though in gay colours and without taste; but her own peculiarelement, wherein she "lived and moved, and had her being," was thekitchen. Nobody's hare-ragout and geese giblets, not even those of themost experienced cook far and near, ever turned out so tasty as hers;in the preparation of sauces she was a perfect adept; vegetables, suchas savoy and cauliflower, were dressed by Rettel's cunning hand in away that could not be beaten, since she knew in a moment through asubtle unfailing instinct when there was too much or too littledripping; and her short cakes put in the shade the most successfulproductions of a similar kind at the most sumptuous of churchfeasts.[7]
Father Wacht was very well satisfied with his daughter's cooking; andhe once hazarded the opinion that the Prince-bishop could not have moredelicious vermicelli noodles[8] on his table than those which Rettelmade. This remark sank so deeply into the good girl's pleased heart,that she was preparing to send a huge dish of the said vermicellinoodles up to the Prince-bishop, and that too on a fast day.Fortunately Master Wacht got scent of the plan in time, and amidsthearty laughter prevented the bold idea from being put into execution.
Not only was stout little Rettel a clever housekeeper, a perfect cook,and at the same time a pattern of good nature and childish affectionand fidelity, but like a well-trained child she also loved her fathervery tenderly.
Now characters of Wacht's class, in spite of their earnestness, oftendisplay a certain ironical waggishness which comes into play on easyprovocation, and lends an agreeable charm to life, just as the deepbrook greets with its silver curling waves the light breeze that skimsits surface.
It could not fail but that good Rettel's ways and doings frequentlyprovoked this sly humour; and so the relations between Wacht and hisdaughter were invested with a curiously modified charm of colour. Theindulgent reader will come across instances later on; for the presentit may suffice to mention one such here, which certainly deservesto be called entertaining. In Master Wacht's house there was a quiet,good-looking young man, who held a post in the Prince's exchequeroffice and drew a very good income. In straightforward German fashionhe sued the father for the hand of his elder daughter, and MasterWacht, if he would not do an injustice to the young man as well as tohis Rettel, could not help but grant him permission to visit the house,that he might have opportunities to try and win the girl's affections.Rettel, informed of the man's purpose, received him with very friendlylooks, in which might be read at times, "At our wedding, dear, I shallbake the cake myself."
Master Wacht, however, was not altogether well pleased with hisdaughter's growing liking for the Herr Administrator of the Prince'srevenues, since the Herr Administrator himself didn't seem to him to beall that he should be. In the first place, the man was as a matter ofcourse a Roman Catholic, and in the second place Wacht thought heperceived in him on nearer acquaintance a certain sneakingdissimulation of manner, which pointed to a mind ill at ease. He wouldwillingly have got the undesirable suitor out of the house again if hecould have done so without hurting Rettel's feelings. Master Wachtobserved him closely, and knew how to make shrewd and cunning use ofhis observations. He perceived that the Herr Administrator did not setmuch store by well-cooked dishes, but swallowed down everything in thesame indiscriminate fashion, and that, moreover, in a disagreeablyrepulsive way. One Sunday, when the Herr Administrator was dining atMaster Wacht's, as he usually did on that day, the latter began to heapup praises and commendations upon every dish which busy Rettel causedto be served up; and not only did he call upon the Herr Administratorto join him in his encomiums, but he also asked him pointedly what hethought of various ways of dressing dishes. The Herr Administratorreplied somewhat dryly that he was a temperate and abstemious man,accustomed from his youth up to the greatest frugality. At noon, fordinner, he was satisfied with a spoonful or two of soup and a littlepiece of beef, but the latter must be cooked hard, since so cooked asmaller quantity sufficed to satisfy the hunger, and there was no needto overload the stomach with large pieces. For his evening meal hegenerally managed upon a saucer of good egg and butter beaten uptogether and a very small glass of liquor; moreover, the only otherrefreshment he allowed himself was a glass of extra beer at six o'clockin the evening, taken if possible in the good fresh air. It may beimagined what looks Rettelchen fixed upon the unfortunateadministrator. And yet the worst was still to come. Bavarian puffynoodles were next served, and they were swollen up to such a big, bigsize that they seemed to be the masterpiece of the table. The frugalHerr Administrator took his knife and with the most cool-bloodedindifference cut the noodle which was passed to him into many pieces.Rettel rushed out of the room with a loud cry of despair.
I must inform the reader who does not know the secret of eatingBavarian puffy noodles that when eaten they must be cleverly pulled topieces, since when cut they lose all taste and bring disgrace upon theprofessional pride of the cook who made them.
From that moment Rettel looked upon the frugal Herr Administrator asthe most abominable man under the face of the sun. Master Wacht did notcontradict her in any way; and so the reckless iconoclast in theprovince of cookery lost his bride for ever.
Though the chequered figure of little Rettel has cost almost too manywords, yet a very few strokes will suffice to put clearly before myreader's eyes the face, figure, and character of pretty, gracefulNanni.
It is only in South Germany, particularly in Franconia, and almostexclusively in the burgher classes, that you can meet with such elegantand delicate figures, such good and pleasing angelic little faces,where there is a sweet heavenly yearning in the blue eyes and a divinesmile upon the rosy lips, as Nanni's; from them we at once see that theold painters had not far to seek the originals of their Madonnas. Ofexactly the same type in figure, face, and character was the Erlangenmaiden whom Master Wacht had married; and Nanni was a most faithfulcopy of her mother. With respect to her genuine tender womanliness andwith respect to that beneficial culture which is nothing but true tactunder all conditions of life, her mother was the exact counterpart ofwhat Master Wacht was with respect to his distinguishing qualities asman. Perhaps the daughter was less serious and firm than her mother,but on the other hand she was the perfection of maidenly sweetness; andthe only fault that could be found with her was that her womanlytenderness of feeling and a sensitiveness which, as a consequence ofher weakened organisation, was easily provoked to a tearful andunhealthy degree, made her too delicate and fragile for the realitiesof life.
Master Wacht could not look at the dear child without emotion, and heloved her in a way that is seldom found in the case of strongcharacters like his. It is possible that he may have always spoiled hera little; and it will soon be shown in what way her tenderness so oftenreceived that special material and encouragement which made it oftendegenerate into sickly sentimentality.
Nanni loved to dress with extreme simplicity, but in the finest stuffsand according to cuts which rose above the limits of her station inlife. Wacht, however, let her do as she liked, since when dressedaccording to her own taste the dear child looked so very pretty andengaging.
I must now hasten to destroy an idea which perhaps might arise inthe mind of any reader who should happen to have been in Bambergseveral years ago, and so would call to mind the hideous and tastelesshead-dress with which at that time even the prettiest maidens were wontto disfigure their faces--the flat hood fitting close to the head andnot allowing the smallest little lock of hair to be seen, a black andnot over-broad ribbon crossing close over the forehead, and meetingbehind low down on the neck in an outrageously ugly bow. This ribbonafterwards continued to increase in width until it reached thepreposterous breadth of nearly half an ell; hence it had to bespecially ordered in the manufactory and strengthened inside with stiffcard-board, so that it projected above the head like a steeple-hat;just above the hollow of the neck they wore a bow, which owing to itsbreadth stuck out far beyond the shoulders, and resembled the outspreadwings of an eagle; and along the temples and about the ears tin
y curlscrept out from beneath the hood. And strange to say, many a fineBamberg beauty looked quite charming in this head-covering.
It formed a very picturesque sight to stand behind a funeral processionand watch it set itself in motion. It is the custom in Bamberg for theburghers to be invited to attend the funeral procession of a deceasedperson by the so-called "death-woman," who in a croaking voice and inthe name of the deceased screams out her invitation in the street, infront of the house of the persons she is inviting; as, for instance,"Herr so-and-so, or Frau so-and-so, beg you to pay them the lasthonours." The good gossips and the young maidens, who in general seldomget out into the open air, fail not to put in an appearance in greatnumbers; and when the troop of women sets itself in motion and the windcatches the immense ends of the bows, it can be likened to nothing elsebut a huge flock of black ravens or eagles suddenly startled and justbeginning their rustling flight.
The indulgent reader is therefore requested not to picture pretty Nanniin any other head-dress except a neat little Erlangen hood.
However objectionable it was to Master Wacht that Jonathan was tobelong to a class which he hated, he did not by any means make the boy,or later the youth, feel the consequences of his displeasure. Rather hewas always very pleased to see the good quiet Jonathan look in afterhis day's work was done, to spend the evening with his daughters andold Barbara. But then Jonathan also wrote the finest hand that couldbe seen anywhere; and it afforded Master Wacht no little joy, forhe was uncommonly fond of good handwriting, when his Nanni, whosewriting-master Jonathan had installed himself to be, began graduallyafter a time to write the same elegant hand as her master.
In the evening Master Wacht himself was either busy in his ownwork-room, or, as was often the case, he visited a beer-house, wherehe met with his fellow-craftsmen and the gentlemen of the council, andin his way enlivened the company with his own rare wit. Meanwhile inthe house at home Barbara busily kept her distaff on the whirl andwhizz, whilst Rettel balanced the house-keeping accounts, or thoughtout the preparation of new and hitherto unheard-of dishes, or relatedagain to the old woman, mingled with a good deal of loud laughter, whatshe had learned in confidence from her various gossips in the town.
And the youth Jonathan? He sat at the table with Nanni; and she alsowrote and drew, of course under his guidance. And yet to sit writingand drawing the whole evening through is a downright tiring piece ofbusiness; hence it was no unfrequent occurrence for Jonathan to drawsome neatly-bound book out of his pocket and read it to pretty,sensitive Nanni in a low softly-whispering tone.
Through old Eichheimer's influence Jonathan had won the patronage ofthe minor canon, who designated Master Wacht a real Verrina. The canon,Count von Koesel, a man of genius, lived and revelled in Goethe's andSchiller's works, which were just at that time beginning to rise likebright streaming meteors, overtopping all others, above the horizon ofthe literary sky. He thought, and rightly, that he discerned a similartendency in his attorney's young clerk, and took a special delight notonly in lending him the works in question, but in reading them incommon with him, and so helping him to thoroughly digest them.
But Jonathan won his way to the Count's heart in an especial way,because he expressed a very favourable opinion of the verses which theCount patched together out of high-sounding phrases in the sweat of hisown brow, and because he was, to the Count's unspeakable satisfaction,edified and touched by them to the proper pitch. Nevertheless it is afact that Jonathan's taste in aesthetic matters was really greatlyimproved by his intercourse with the intellectual, though somewhateuphuistic, Count.
My kind reader now knows what class of books Jonathan used to take outof his pocket and read to pretty Nanni, and can form a just conceptionof the way in which this kind of writings would inevitably excite agirl mentally organised as Nanni was. "O star of the gloaming eve!"Would not Nanni's tears flow when her attractive writing-master beganin this low and solemn fashion?
It is a fact of common experience that young people who are in thehabit of singing tender love-duets together very easily put themselvesin the places of the fictitious characters of the song, and come tolook upon the duets in question as giving both the melody and the textfor the whole of life; so also the youth who reads a love romance to amaiden very readily becomes the hero of the story, whilst the girldreams herself into the role of the heroine. In the case of such fitlyadapted spirits as Jonathan and Nanni such incitement as this even wasnot required to provoke them to love each other. They were one heartand one soul; the maiden and the youth were, so to speak, but onebrightly burning flame of love, pure and inextinguishable. Of hisdaughter's tender passion Father Wacht had not the slightest inkling;but he was soon to learn all.
Through unwearied industry and genuine talent Jonathan succeeded in abrief space of time in completing his legal studies and qualifying foradmission to the grade of advocate; and, as a matter of fact, hisadmission soon followed. He intended one Sunday to surprise MasterWacht with this glad news, which established him upon a secure footingfor life. But imagine how he trembled with dismay when Wacht bent hiseyes upon him, blazing with anger; he had never seen him look sopassionately wrathful. "What!" cried Wacht, in a tone that made thewalls ring again, "what! you miserable good-for-nothing fellow! Naturehas neglected your body, but richly endowed you with splendidintellectual gifts, and these you are intending to abuse in a shamelessway, like a bad crafty knave, and so putting your knife at your ownmother's throat? You mean to say you are going to traffic in justice asin some cheap paltry ware in the public market, and weigh it out withfalse scales to the poor peasants and the oppressed burgher, who invain utter their plaintive cries before the soft-cushioned seat of theinexorable judge, and going to get yourself paid with blood-stainedpence which the poor man hands to you whilst bathed in tears? Will youfill your brains with lying laws of man's contriving, and practiseknavish tricks and schemes, and make a lucrative business of it tofatten yourself upon? Is all your father's virtue, tell me, vanishedfrom your heart? Your father--your name is Engelbrecht--no! when I hearyou called so I will not believe that it is the name of my comrade, whowas a pattern of virtue and honesty, but I must believe that it isSatan, who in the apish mockery of Hell is shouting the name across hisgrave, and so beguiling men to take the young lying lawyer's cub forthe real son of that excellent carpenter Gottfried Engelbrecht. Begone!you are no longer my foster-son! You are a serpent whom I will pluckfrom my bosom, whom I will disown"----
At this point Nanni rushed in and threw herself at Master Wacht's feetwith a piercing heart-rending cry of distress. "Father!" she cried,completely overcome by her incontrollable anguish and unbridleddespair, "father, if you disown him, you will disown me also--me, yourown favourite daughter; he is mine, my Jonathan; I can never, neverpart with him in this world."
The poor child fell down in a swoon and struck her head against thecloset-door, so that the drops of blood trickled down her delicatewhite forehead. Barbara and Rettel ran in and carried the insensiblegirl to the sofa. Jonathan stood like a statue, as if thunderstruck,incapable of the slightest movement. It would be difficult to describethe inner emotions which revealed themselves on Wacht's countenance.His face, instead of being flushed with the redness of anger, was nowpale as a corpse's; there only remained a dark fire gleaming in hisfixed set eyes; the cold perspiration of death appeared to be standingon his forehead. After gazing unchangeably before him for some minuteswithout speaking, he relieved his labouring breast by saying in asignificant tone, "So that was it!" then he strode slowly towards thedoor, where he again stood still, and turning half round towards thewomen, cried, "Dont' spare _eau de Cologne_, and this foolery will soonbe over."
Shortly afterwards the Master was seen to leave the house at a quickpace and bend his steps towards the hills. It may be conceived in whatgreat trouble and distress the family was plunged. Rettel and Barbaracould not for the life of them imagine what terrible thing hadhappened; but when the Master did not return to dinner, but stayed outtill late at n
ight--a thing he had never done before--they were greatlyagitated with anxiety and fear. At length they heard him coming, heardhim open the street-door, bang it violently to, ascend the stairs withstrong firm footsteps, and lock himself in his own chamber.
Poor Nanni soon recovered herself again and wept quietly to herself.But Jonathan did not stop short of wild outbreaks of inconsolabledespair, and several times spoke of shooting himself. It is a fortunatething that pistols are articles which do not necessarily belong to thefurniture of sentimental young lawyers; or at least, if they are to befound amongst their effects, they generally have no lock or else won'tgo off.
After he had run through certain streets like a madman, Jonathan'scourse led him instinctively to his noble patron, to whom he lamentedall his unheard-of misery in outbreaks of the most violent passion. Itneed hardly be added, it is so self-evident a thing, that the younglove-smitten advocate was, according to his own desperate assertions,the first and only individual in all the wide world whom such aterrible fate had befallen, wherefore he reproached destiny and all thepowers of enmity as having conspired together against him.
The canon listened to him calmly and with a certain share of interest;but nevertheless he did not appear to appreciate the full extent of thetrouble which the young lawyer imagined he felt "My dear young friend,"said the canon, taking the advocate by the hand in a friendly way, andleading him to a seat, "my dear young friend, hitherto I have lookedupon our carpenter Herr Johannes Wacht as a great man in his way, but Inow perceive that he is also a very great fool. Great fools are likejibbing horses; it's hard to make them move; but once they have beengot to move, they trot merrily along the way they are wanted to go. Inspite of the old man's senseless anger you ought not by any means togive up your beautiful Nanni in consequence of the unpleasant scene oftoday. But before proceeding to talk further about your love-affair,which is indeed very charming and romantic, let us turn to and discussa little breakfast. It was noon when you went to old Wacht, and I don'tdine until four o'clock in Seehof."[9]
A very appetising breakfast indeed was served up on the little table atwhich they both sat--the canon and the advocate--Bayonne hams,garnished round about with slices of Portuguese onions, a cold lardedpartridge of the red kind and a foreigner to boot, truffles cooked inred wine, a dish of Strasburg _pates de foie gras_, finally a plate ofgenuine Strachino[10] and another with butter, as yellow and shining aslilies of the valley.
The indulgent reader who loves such dainty butter, and ever goes toBamberg, will be pleased at getting there the finest and best, but willalso at the same time be annoyed when he learns that the inhabitants,from mistaken notions of housekeeping, melt it down to a grease, whichgenerally tastes rancid and spoils all the food.
Besides, good dry champagne was sending up its pearly sparkles in abeautifully-cut crystal decanter. The canon had not unloosed the napkinfrom his neck, but had let it stay where it was when he had receivedthe young lawyer; and, after the footman had quickly supplied a secondcover, he proceeded to place the choicest morsels before the despairinglover and to pour out wine for him; and then he set to work heartilyhimself. Some one once had the hardihood to maintain that the stomachis equivalent to all the other physical and intellectual parts of manput together. That is a profane and abominable doctrine; but this muchis certain, that the stomach is like a despotic tyrant or ironicalmystifier, and often carries through its own will. And this was thecase in the present instance. For instinctively, without being clearlyconscious of what he was about, the young lawyer had in a few minutesdevoured a huge piece of Bayonne ham, created terrible devastationamongst the Portuguese garniture, put out of sight half a partridge, noinconsiderable quantity of trufles, and also more Strasburg _pates_than was exactly becoming in a young advocate full of trouble.Moreover, they both relished the champagne so much that the footmansoon had to fill up the crystal decanter a second time.
The advocate felt a pleasant and beneficial degree of warmth penetratehis vitals, and all he experienced of his trouble was a singular sortof shiver, which exactly resembled electric shocks, causing pain butdoing good. He proved himself susceptible to the consolations of hispatron, who, after comfortably sipping up his last glass of wine andelegantly wiping his mouth, settled himself into position and began asfollows:--
"In the first place, my dear good friend, you must not be so foolish asto imagine that you are the only man on earth to whom a father hasrefused the hand of his daughter. But that's nothing to do with thepresent case. As I have already told you, the old fool's reason forhating you is so preposterously absurd that it cannot last long; andwhether it appear to you at this moment nonsensical or not, I canhardly bear the thought of all ending in a tame commonplace wedding, sothat the whole thing may be summed up in the few words,--Peter haswooed Grete,[11] and Peter and Grete are man and wife.
"The situation is, however, so far new and grand in that it is merelyhatred against a class to which the beloved foster-son belongs that canfurnish the sole lever for setting a new and special tragic developmentin motion; but to the real matter at issue! You are a poet, my friend,and that alters everything. Your love, your trouble, ought to appear inyour eyes as something magnificent, in the full splendours of thesacred art of poesy. You will hear the strains of the lyre struck bythe muse who is nearest akin to you, and in the divine gush ofinspiration you will receive the winged words in which to express yourlove and your unhappiness. As a poet you might be called at this momentthe happiest man on the earth, since, your heart having been reallywounded as deep as it can be wounded, your heart's blood is now gushingout. You require, therefore, no artificial incitement to allure you toa poetic mood; and mark my words, this period of trouble will enableyou to produce something great and admirable.
"I must draw your attention to the fact that in these first moments ofyour unhappiness there will be mingled with it a peculiar and veryunpleasant feeling which cannot be woven into any poetry; but it is afeeling which soon vanishes away. Let me make you understand. Forexample, after the unfortunate lover has had a good sound drubbing fromthe enraged father, and has been kicked out of the house, and theoutraged mamma has locked the young lady in her chamber, and repelledthe attempted storming on the part of the desperate lover by the armeddomestics of the house, and when plebeian fists have even entertainedno shyness of the very finest cloth" (here the canon sighed somewhat),"then this fermented prose of miserable vulgarity must evaporate inorder that the pure poetic unhappiness of love may settle as sedimentYou have been fearfully scolded, my dear young friend, this was thebitter prose that had to be surmounted; you have surmounted it, and sonow give yourself up entirely to poetry. Here--here are Petrarch's_Sonnets_ and Ovid's _Elegies_; take them, read them, write yourself,and come and read to me what you have written. Perhaps in the meantimeI also may experience a disappointment in love, of which I am notaltogether deprived of hopes, since I shall in all likelihood fall inlove with a stranger lady who has stopped at the 'White Lamb' in theSteinweg,[12] and whom Count Nesselstaedt maintains to be a paragon ofbeauty and grace, albeit he has only caught a fugitive glimpse of herat the window. Then, my friend, like the Dioscuri, we will travel thesame bright path of poetry and disappointed love. Note, my good fellow,what a great advantage my station in life gives me, for every affectionwhich I conceive, being a longing and hoping which can never begratified, rises to tragic intensity. But now, my friend, out, out,away into the woods as you ought to."
It would doubtless be very wearisome to my kind reader, if notunbearable, were I to describe here at length, in detail and with allsorts of over-choice and exquisite words and phrases, all that Jonathanand Nanni did in their trouble. Such things may be found in anyindifferent romance; and it is often amusing enough to see into whatpostures the struggling author throws himself, merely in order toappear original. On the other hand, it seems to be of great importanceto follow Master Wacht on his walks, or rather in his mentaljourneyings.
It must appear very remarkable that a man of such
strong self-reliantspirit as Master Wacht, who had borne with unshaken courage andunbending steadfastness the most terrible misfortunes that had befallenhim, and that would have crushed many less stouthearted spirits, couldbe thus put beside himself with passion at an occurrence which anyother father of a family would have regarded as an ordinary event andone easy to remedy, and would in fact have set about remedying it insome way or other, good or bad. Of course the indulgent reader is wellaware that this behaviour of Wacht's must be traced to some goodpsychological reason. The thought that poor Nanni's love for innocentJonathan was a misfortune which would exercise a pernicious influenceupon the whole course of his subsequent life was only due to theperverse discord in Wacht's soul. But the very fact that this discordwas able to go on making itself heard in the otherwise harmonicalcharacter of this thoroughly noble man, embraced the impossibility ofsmothering it or reducing it completely to silence.
Wacht had made his acquaintance with the feminine character in one whopossessed it in a simple but also at the same time grand and nobleform. His own wife had enabled him to see into the depths of the realwoman's nature, as in a bright mirror-like lake. He saw in her the trueheroine who fought with weapons that were constantly unconquerable. Hisorphan wife had forfeited the inheritance of an immensely rich aunt,she had forfeited the love of all her relatives, and she had opposedwith unshaken courage the persistent efforts of the Church, whichembittered her life with many a hard trial, when, though herselftrained up in the Catholic religion, she had married the ProtestantWacht, and shortly before had gone over to this faith in Augsburg,impelled thereto by the pure enthusiasm of conviction. All this nowpassed through Master Wacht's mind; and as he thought upon thesentiments he had felt when he led the maiden to the altar, the warmtears ran down his cheeks. Nanni was her mother over again; Wacht lovedthe child with an intensity of affection that was quite unparalleled,and this fact was of itself more than enough to make him reject asabominable, nay, as fiendishly cruel, any attempt to separate thelovers that appeared in the remotest degree to savour of violence.When, on the other hand, he reflected upon the whole course ofJonathan's previous life, he was obliged to admit that all the virtuesof a good, industrious, and modest youth could not easily be so happilyunited in another as they were in Jonathan, albeit his handsomeexpressive face bore the impress of traits which were perhaps a littletoo soft, and almost effeminate, and his diminutive and weak butelegant bodily frame bespoke a tender intellectual spirit. When hereflected further that the two children had always been together, andhow evident had been their mutual liking for each other, he was reallypuzzled to understand how it was that he had not expected beforehandwhat had now really happened, and so could have taken precautions intime. Now it was too late.
He was urged on through the hills by a mood of mind which set his wholebeing in a turmoil of distraction; such a state as this he had hithertonever experienced, and he was inclined to take it for a seduction ofSatan, since several thoughts arose in his mind which in the very nextminute he could not help regarding as diabolical. He could not recoverhis self-composure, still less form any decisive plan of action. Thesun was beginning to set when he reached the village of Buch;[13]turning into the hotel, he ordered something good to eat and a bottleof excellent beer from the rock.[14]
"Ah! a very fine evening! Ah! what a remarkable occurrence to see ourgood Master Wacht here in beautiful Buch, on this glorious Sundayevening. To tell you the truth, I can hardly believe my eyes. Yourrespected family is, I presume, somewhere else in the country." Thuswas Master Wacht addressed by some one with a shrill, squeaking voice.The man who thus interrupted his meditations was no less a personagethan Herr Pickard Leberfink, a decorator and gilder by trade, and oneof the drollest men in the world.
Leberfink's exterior struck everybody's eye as something eccentric andextraordinary. He was of small size, thick and stumpy, with a body toolong, and with short bowed legs; his face was not at all ugly, butgood-natured, with round red little cheeks and small grey eyes thatwere by no means wanting in vivacity. Pursuant to an old obsoleteFrench fashion, he was elaborately curled and powdered every day;but it was on Sundays that his costume was especially striking. Forthen he wore, to take one example, a striped silk coat of a lilac andcanary-yellow colour with immense silver-plated buttons, a waistcoatembroidered in gay tints, satin hose of a brilliant green, white andlight-blue silk stockings, delicately striped, and shining blackpolished shoes, upon which glittered large buckles set with preciousstones. If to this we add that his gait was the elegant gait of adancing master, that he had a certain cat-like suppleness of body, andthat his little legs had a strange knack of knocking the heels togetheron fitting occasions,--for instance, when leaping across a gutter,--itcould not fail but that the little decorator got himself singled outeverywhere as an extraordinary creature. With other aspects of hischaracter my kindly reader will make an acquaintance presently.
Master Wacht was not altogether displeased at having his painfulmeditations interrupted in this way. Herr, or better Monsieur PickardLeberfink, decorator and gilder, was a great fop, but at the sametime the most honest and faithful soul in the world; he was a veryliberal-minded man, was generous to the poor, and always ready to servehis friends. He only practised his calling now and again, merely out oflove for it, since he had no need of business. He was rich; his fatherhad left him some landed property, having a magnificent rock-cellar,which was only separated from Master Wacht's premises by a largegarden. Master Wacht was fond of the droll little Leberfink on accountof his downright genuineness, and also because he was a member of thesmall Protestant community which was permitted to exercise the rites ofits faith in Bamberg. With conspicuous alacrity and willingnessLeberfink accepted Wacht's invitation to join him at his table, anddrink another bottle of beer from the rock along with him. He began theconversation by saying that for a long time he had been wanting to callupon Master Wacht at his own house, since he had two things he wishedto talk to him about, one of which was almost making his heart burst.Wacht made answer, he thought Leberfink knew him, and must be awarethat anybody who had anything to say to him, no matter what it was,might speak out his thoughts frankly. Leberfink now imparted to theMaster in confidence that the wine-dealer who owned the beautifulgarden, with the massive pavilion, which lay between their twoproperties, had privately offered to sell it to him. He thought herecollected having heard Wacht once express a wish how very much heshould like to own this garden; if now the opportunity was come tosatisfy this wish, he (Leberfink) offered his services as negotiator,and expressed his willingness to settle everything for him.
It was a fact that Master Wacht had for some time entertained a desireto enlarge his property by the addition of a good garden, andespecially so since Nanni was always longing for the beautiful shrubsand trees which gave out such a luxurious abundance of sweet scents inthis very garden. Moreover, it seemed to him now as if Fortune weregraciously smiling upon him, and just at the time when poor Nanni hadexperienced such bitter trouble, an opportunity for affording herpleasure should present itself so unexpectedly. The Master at oncesettled all the needful particulars with the obliging decorator, whopromised that on the following Sunday Wacht should be able to strollthrough the garden as its owner. "Come now," cried Master Wacht, "comenow, friend Leberfink, out with it--what is it that is making yourheart burst?"
Then Herr Pickard Leberfink fell to sighing in the most pitiablemanner; and he pulled the most extraordinary faces, and ran on withsuch a string of gibberish that nobody could make either head or tailof it. Master Wacht, however, knew what to make of it, for he shook hishead, saying, "Ah! that may be contrived;" and he smiled to himself atthe wonderful sympathy of their related spirits.
This meeting with Leberfink had certainly done Master Wacht good; hebelieved he had conceived a plan by virtue of which he should managenot only to stand against, but even to overcome, the severest and mostterrible misfortune which, according to his infatuated way of thinking,had come upon him. The only th
ing that can declare the verdict of thetribunal within him is the course of action he adopted; and perhaps,kindly reader, this tribunal faltered for the first time. Here is theplace to offer a brief remark, which, perhaps, would not very well lenditself for insertion later. As so frequently happens in such cases, oldBarbara had interfered in the matter, and been very urgent in heraccusations of the loving pair to Master Wacht, making it a specialcharge against them that they had always read worldly books together.The Master caused her to bring two or three of the books which Nannihad. One was a work of Goethe's; unfortunately it is not known whichwork it was. After turning over the leaves, he gave it back to Barbara,that she might restore it to the place whence she had secretly takenit. Not a single word about Nanni's reading ever escaped him; onceonly, when some seasonable occasion presented at dinner, did he say,"There is a remarkable mind rising up amongst us Germans; God grant himsuccess! My days are over; such things are not for my age, nor yet formy calling; but you--Jonathan? I envy you many things that will come tolight in the days to come." Jonathan understood Wacht's oracular wordsthe more easily, since some days previously he had discovered by chance_Goetz von Berlichingen_[15] lying on the Master's work-table, halfcovered by other papers. Wacht's great mind, whilst acknowledging theuncommon genius of the new writer, had also perceived the impossibilityof beginning a new flight himself.
Next day poor Nanni hung her head like a sick dove. "What's the matterwith my dear child?" asked Master Wacht in the tender sympathetic tonethat was so peculiarly his own, and with which he knew how to stireverybody's heart, "what's the matter with my dear child? are you ill?I can't believe it. You don't get out into the fresh air sufficiently.See here now; I have a long time been wishing you would for once in away bring me my tea out to the workshop. Do so to-day; we may expect amost beautiful evening. You will come, won't you, Nanni, my darling?You will butter me some rolls yourself--that will make them ever sogood." Therewith Master Wacht took the dear girl in his arms andstroked her brown curls back from her forehead, and he kissed her andpressed her to his heart, and tenderly caressed her,--treating her, infact, in the most affectionate way that he knew how; and he was wellaware of the irresistible charm of his manner at such times. A flood oftears gushed from Nanni's eyes, and with some difficulty all she couldget out was, "Father! father!" "Well, well!" said Wacht, and a strainof embarrassment might have been detected in his voice, "all may yetturn out well."
A week passed; naturally enough Jonathan had not shown himself, and theMaster had not mentioned him with a single syllable. On Sunday, whenthe soup was standing smoking on the table, and the family were aboutto take their seats for dinner. Master Wacht asked gaily, "And where isour Jonathan?" Rettel, with a view to sparing poor Nanni, replied in anundertone, "Father, don't you know then what's taken place? Wouldn'tJonathan of course be shy of showing himself here in your presence?""Oh the monkey!" said Wacht, laughing; "let Christian run over at onceand fetch him."
It need hardly be said that the young advocate failed not to put in anappearance immediately, nor that during the first moments after hisarrival a dark oppressive thunder-cloud, as it were, hovered over themall. At length, however, Master Wacht's unconstrained good spirits,seconded by Leberfink's droll sallies, succeeded in calling forth atone of conversation which, if it could not be called exactly merry,yet managed to maintain the balance of concord pretty evenly. Afterdinner Master Wacht said, "Let us get a little fresh air and stroll outto my workyard." And they did so.
Monsieur Pickard Leberfink deliberately kept close to Rettelchen'sside, who was a pattern of friendliness towards him, since the politedecorator had exhausted himself in praising her dishes, and hadconfessed that never so long as he had lived, not even when dining withthe ecclesiastics in Banz,[16] had he enjoyed a more delicious meal. AsMaster Wacht now hurried on at a quick pace right across the middle ofthe workyard, with a large bundle of keys in his hand, the young lawyerwas unintentionally brought close to Nanni. But all that the loversventured upon were stolen sighs and low soft-breathed love-plaints.
Master Wacht came to a halt in front of a fine newly-made door, whichhad been constructed in the wall parting his workyard from themerchant's garden. He unlocked the door and stepped in, inviting hisfamily to follow him. They, none of them, knew exactly what to make ofthe old gentleman, except Herr Pickard Leberfink, who never laid asidehis sly smile, or ceased his soft giggle. In the midst of the beautifulgarden there was a very spacious pavilion; this too Master Wachtopened, and stepping in remained standing in its centre; from every oneof its windows one obtained a different romantic view. "Yes," saidMaster Wacht in a voice that bore witness to a heart well pleased withitself, "here I am in my own property; this beautiful garden is mine. Iwas obliged to buy it, not so much to augment my own place or increasethe value of my property, no! but because I knew that a certain darlinglittle thing longed so for these shrubs and trees, and for thesebeautiful sweet-smelling flower-beds."
Then Nanni threw herself upon the old gentleman's breast and cried, "Ofather! father! You will break my heart with your kindness, with yourgoodness; do have pity"---- "There, there, say no more," Master Wachtinterrupted his suffering child, "be a good girl, and all may bebrought right in some marvellous way. You can find a great deal ofcomfort in this little paradise"---- "Oh! yes, yes, yes," exclaimedNanni in a burst of enthusiasm, "O ye trees, ye shrubs, ye flowers, yedistant hills, you beautiful fleeting evening clouds--my spirit liveswholly in you all; I shall come to myself again when your sweet voicescomfort me." Therewith Nanni ran out of the open door of the pavilioninto the garden like a startled young roe; and Jonathan, the lawyer,delayed not to follow her at his fastest speed, for no power would thenhave been able to keep him back. Monsieur Pickard Leberfink requestedpermission to show Rettelchen round the new property.
Meanwhile old Wacht had beer and tobacco brought to a spot under thetrees, close at the brow of the hill, whence he could look down intothe valley; and there he sat in a right glad and comfortable humour,puffing the blue clouds of genuine Holland into the air. No doubt mykindly reader is wondering greatly at this frame of mind in MasterWacht, and is at a loss to explain to himself how a mood like this wasat all possible to a temperament like Wacht's. He had arrived, not somuch at any determined plan as at the conviction that the Eternal Powercould not possibly let him live to experience such a very terriblemisfortune as that of seeing his favourite child united to a lawyer;that is, to Satan himself. "Something will happen," he said to himself;"something must happen, by which either this unhappy affair will bebroken off or Jonathan snatched from the pit of destruction. It wouldbe rash temerity, nay, perhaps a ruinous piece of mischief, producingthe exact contrary of what was wished, if with my feeble hand I were toattempt to control the fly-wheel of Destiny."
It is hard to credit what miserable, nay, often what absurd reasons aman will hunt up in order to represent the approaching misfortune asavertable. So there were moments in which Wacht built his hopes uponthe arrival of wild Sebastian, whom he pictured to himself as astalwart young fellow in the full flush and pride of youth, just on thepoint of attaining to manhood, and that he would bring about a changeof direction in the drifting of circumstances, and make thingsdifferent from what they then were. The very common, and alas! oftentoo true idea came into his head, that woman is too greatly impressedby strong and striking manliness not to be conquered by it at last.
When the sun began to go down, Monsieur Pickard Leberfink invited thefamily to go into his garden, which adjoined their own, and take alittle refreshment. Beside Wacht's new possession the noble decoratorand gilder's garden formed a most ridiculous and extraordinarycontrast. Whilst almost too small in size, so that the only thing itcould perhaps boast in its favour was the good height at which it wassituated, it was laid out in Dutch style, the trees and hedges clippedwith the shears in the most scrupulous and pedantic fashion. Theslender stems of the fruit-trees standing in the flower-beds lookedvery pretty in their coats of light blue and rose tints,
and paleyellow, and other colours. Leberfink had varnished them, and sobeautified Nature. Moreover they saw in the trees the apples of theHesperides.[17]
But yet several further surprises were in store. Leberfink bade thegirls pluck themselves a nosegay each; but on gathering the flowersthey perceived to their amazement that both stalks and leaves weregilded. It was also very remarkable that all the leaves which Retteltook into her hands were shaped like hearts.
The refreshment upon which Leberfink regaled his guests consisted ofthe choicest confectionery, the finest sweetmeats, and old Rhine wineand Muscatel. Rettel was quite beside herself over the confectionery,observing with special emphasis that such sweetmeats, which were forthe most part splendidly silvered and gilded, were not, she knew madein Bamberg. Then Monsieur Pickard Leberfink assured her privately, witha most amorous smirk, that he himself knew a little about baking cakesand sweets, and that he was the happy maker of all these deliciousdainties. Rettel almost fell upon her knees before him in reverence andastonishment; and yet the greatest surprise, was still in store forher.
In the deepening dusk Monsieur Pickard Leberfink very cleverlycontrived to entice little Rettel into a small arbour. No sooner was healone with her than he recklessly plumped himself down upon both kneesin the wet grass, notwithstanding that he was wearing his brilliantgreen satin hose; and, amidst many strange and unintelligible sounds ofdistress--not very dissimilar to the midnight elegies of the tom-catHinz[18]--he presented her with an immense nosegay of flowers, in themiddle of which was the finest full-blown rose that could be foundanywhere. Rettel did what everybody does who has a nosegay given tohim; she raised it to her nose; but in the selfsame moment she felt asharp prick. In her alarm she was about to throw the nosegay away. Butsee what charming wonder had revealed itself in the meantime! Abeautifully varnished little cupid had leapt up out of the heart of therose and was holding out a burning heart with both hands towardsRettel. From his mouth depended a small strip of paper on which werewritten the words, "Voila le c[oe]ur de Monsieur Pickard Leberfink, queje vous offre" (Here I offer you the heart of Monsieur PickardLeberfink).
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Rettel, very much alarmed. "Good gracious!what are you doing, my good Herr Leberfink? Don't kneel down in frontof me as if I were a princess. You will make marks on your beautifulsatin--in the wet grass, and you will catch cold yourself; but eldertea and white sugar candy are good remedies."
"No!" exclaimed the desperate lover--"No, O Margaret, PickardLeberfink, who loves you with all his heart, will not rise from the wetgrass until you promise to be his"---- "You want to marry me?" askedRettel. "Well then, up you get at once. Speak to my father, darlingLeberfink, and drink one or two cups of elder tea this evening."
Why should the reader be longer wearied with Leberfink's and Rettel'sfolly? They were made for each other, and were betrothed, at whichFather Wacht was right glad in his own teasing, humorous way.
A certain degree of life was introduced into Wacht's house by Rettel'sbetrothal; and even the disconsolate lovers had more freedom, sincethey were less observed. But something of a quite special character wasto happen to put an abrupt end to this quiet and comfortable conditionin which they were all living. The young lawyer seemed particularlypreoccupied, and his thoughts busy with some affair or another thatabsorbed all his energies; his visits at Wacht's house even began to beless frequent, and he often stayed away in the evening--a thing he hadnever been wont to do previously. "What can be the matter with ourJonathan? He is completely preoccupied; he's quite another fellow fromwhat he used to be," said Master Wacht, although he knew very well whatwas the cause, or rather the event, which was exercising such a visibleinfluence upon the young lawyer, at least to all outward appearance. Totell the truth, he looked upon this event as the dispensation ofProvidence through which he should perhaps escape the great misfortuneby which he believed himself threatened, and which he felt wouldcompletely upset all the happiness of his life.
Some few months previously a young and unknown lady had arrived inBamberg, and under circumstances which could only be called singularand mysterious. She was staying at the "White Lamb." All the servantsshe had with her were an old grey-haired manservant and an oldlady's-maid. Very various were the opinions current about her. Manymaintained she was a distinguished and immensely rich Hungariancountess, who, owing to matrimonial dissensions, was compelled to takeup her residence in solitary retirement in Bamberg for a time. Others,on the contrary, set her down as an ordinary forsaken Dido, and yetothers as an itinerant singer, who would soon throw off her veil ofnobility and announce herself as about to give a concert,--possibly shehad no recommendations to the Prince-bishop. At any rate the majoritywere unanimous in making up their minds to regard the stranger, who,according to the statements of the few persons who had seen her, was ofexceptional beauty, as an extremely ambiguous person.
It had been noticed that the stranger lady's old man-servant hadfollowed the young lawyer about a long time, until one day he caughthim at the spring in the market-place, which is ornamented with animage of Neptune (whom the honest folk of Bamberg are generally in thehabit of calling the Fork-man); and there the old man stood talking toJonathan a long, long time. Spirits alive to all that goes forward, whocan never meet anybody without asking eagerly, "Wherever has he been?Wherever is he going? Whatever is he doing?" and so on, had made outthat the young advocate very often visited the beautiful unknown, infact almost every day and at night-time, when he spent several hourswith her. It was soon the talk of the town that the lawyer JonathanEngelbrecht had got entangled in the dangerous toils of the youngunknown adventuress.
It would have been, both then and always, entirely contrary to MasterWacht's character to make use of this apparent erring conduct of theyoung advocate as a weapon against poor Nanni. He left it to DameBarbara and her whole following of gossips to keep Nanni informed ofall particulars; from them she would learn every item of intelligence,and that, he made no doubt, with a due amplification of all thedetails. The crisis of the whole affair was reached when one day theyoung lawyer suddenly set off on a journey along with the lady, nobodyknew whither. "That's the way frivolity goes on; the forward younggentleman will lose his business," said the knowing ones. But this wasnot the case; for not a little to the astonishment of the public, oldEichheimer himself attended to his foster-son's business with the mostpainstaking care; he seemed to be initiated into the secret about thelady and to approve of all the steps taken by his foster-son.
Master Wacht never spoke a word about the matter, and once when poorNanni could no longer hide her trouble, but moaned in a low tone, hervoice half-choked with tears, "Why has Jonathan left us?" Master Wachtreplied in an off-handed way, "Ay, that's just what lawyers do. Whoknows what sort of an intrigue Jonathan has got entangled in with thestranger, thinking it will bring him money, and be to his advantage?"Then, however, Herr Pickard Leberfink was wont to take Jonathan's side,and to assert that he for his part was convinced the stranger could benothing less than a princess, who had had recourse to the alreadyworld-renowned young advocate in an extremely delicate law-suit Andtherewith he also unearthed so many stories about lawyers who, throughespecial sagacity and especial penetration and skill, had unravelledthe most complicated difficulties, and brought to light the mostclosely hidden things, till Master Wacht begged him for goodness' saketo hold his tongue, since he was feeling quite ill and sick; Nanni, onthe contrary, derived inward comfort from all Leberfink's remarkablestories, and she plucked up her hopes again. With her trouble, however,there was united a perceptible mixture of annoyance and anger, andparticularly at the moments when it seemed to her utterly impossiblethat Jonathan could have been untrue to her. From this it might beinferred that Jonathan had not sought to exculpate himself, but hadobstinately maintained silence about his adventure.
After some months had elapsed the young lawyer came back to Bamberg inthe highest good spirits; and Master Wacht, on seeing the bright gladlight in Nanni's eyes when she looked at him,
could not well dootherwise than conclude that Jonathan had fully justified his conductto her. Doubtless it would not be disagreeable to the indulgent readerto have the history of what had taken place between the stranger ladyand the young lawyer inserted here as an episodical _novella_.
Count Z----, a Hungarian, owner of more than a million, married frompure affection a miserably poor girl, who drew down upon her head thehatred of his family, not only because her own family was enshrouded incomplete obscurity, but also because the only valuable treasures shepossessed were her divine virtue, beauty, and grace. The Count promisedhis wife that at his death he would settle all his property upon her bywill.
Once when he returned to Vienna into the arms of his wife, after havingbeen summoned from Paris to St. Petersburg on diplomatic business, herelated to her that he had been attacked by a severe illness in alittle town, the name of which he had quite forgotten; there he hadseized the opportunity whilst recovering from his illness to draw up awill in her favour and deposit it with the court. Some miles farther onthe road he must have been seized with a new and doubly virulent attackof his grave nervous complaint, so that the name of the place where hehad made his will and that of the court where he had deposited it hadcompletely slipped his memory; moreover, he had lost the document ofreceipt from the court acknowledging the deposition of the testament.As so often happens in similar cases the Count postponed the making ofa new will from day to day, until he was overtaken by death. Then hisrelatives did not neglect to lay claim to all the property he leftbehind him, so that the poor Countess saw her too rich inheritancemelted down to the insignificant sum represented by certain valuablepresents she had received from the Count, and which his relatives couldnot deprive her of. Many different notifications bearing upon thefeatures of the case were found amongst the Count's papers; but sincesuch statements, that a will was in existence, could not take the placeof the will itself, they proved not to be of the slightest advantage tothe Countess. She had consulted many learned lawyers about herunfortunate situation, and had finally come to Bamberg to have recourseto old Eichheimer; but he had directed her to young Engelbrecht, who,being less busy and equipped with excellent intellectual acuteness andgreat love for his profession, would perhaps be able to get a clue tothe unfortunate will or furnish some other circumstantial proof of itsactual existence.
The young advocate set to work by requesting permission of thecompetent authorities to submit the Count's papers in the castle toanother searching investigation. He himself went thither along with theCountess; and in the presence of the officials of the court he found ina cupboard of nut-wood, that had hitherto escaped observation, an oldportfolio, in which, though they did not find the Count's document ofreceipt relating to the deposition of the will, they yet discovered apaper which could not fail to be of the utmost importance for the youngadvocate's purpose. For this paper contained an accurate description ofall the circumstances, even the minutest details, under which the Counthad made a will in favour of his wife and deposited it in the keepingof a court. The Count's diplomatic journey from Paris to Petersburg hadbrought him to Koenigsberg in Prussia. Here he chanced to come acrosssome East Prussian noblemen, whom he had previously met with whilst ona visit to Italy. In spite of the express rate at which the Count wastravelling, he nevertheless suffered himself to be persuaded to make ashort excursion into East Prussia, particularly as the big hunts hadbegun, and the Count was a passionate sportsman. He named the townsWehlau, Allenburg, Friedland, &c., as places where he had been. Then heset out to go straight forwards directly to the Russian frontier,without returning to Koenigsberg.
In a little town, whose wretched appearance the Count could hardly findwords to describe, he was suddenly prostrated by a nervous disorder,which for several days quite deprived him of consciousness. Fortunatelythere was a young and right clever doctor in the place, who opposed astout resistance to the disease, so that the Count not only recoveredconsciousness but also his health, so far that after a few days he wasin a position to continue his journey. But his heart was oppressed withthe fear that a second attack on the road might kill him, and so plungehis wife in a condition of the most straitened poverty. Not a little tohis astonishment he learned from the doctor that the place, in spite ofits small size and wretched appearance, was the seat of a Prussianprovincial court, and that he could there have his will registered withall due formality, as soon as he could succeed in establishing hisidentity. This, however, was a most formidable difficulty, for who knewthe Count in this district? But wonderful are the doings of Accident!Just as the Count got out of his carriage in front of the inn of thelittle town, there stood in the doorway a grey-haired old invalid,almost eighty years old, who dwelt in a neighbouring village and earneda living by plaiting willow baskets, and who only seldom came into thetown. In his youth he had served in the Austrian army, and for fifteensuccessive years had been groom to the Count's father. At the firstglance he remembered his master's son; and he and his wife acted asfully legitimated vouchers of the Count's identity, and not to theirdetriment, as may well be conceived.
The young advocate at once saw that all depended upon the locality andits exact correspondence with the Count's statements, if he wanted toglean further details and find a clue to the place where the Count hadbeen ill and made his testament. He set off with the Countess for EastPrussia. There by examination of the post-books he was desirous ofmaking out, if possible, the route of travel pursued by the Count. Butafter a good deal of wasted effort, he only managed to discover thatthe Count had taken post-horses from Eylau to Allenburg. BeyondAllenburg every trace was lost; nevertheless he satisfied himself thatthe Count had certainly travelled through Prussian Lithuania, and ofthis he was still further convinced on finding registered at Tilsitthat the Count had arrived there and departed thence by extra post.Beyond this point again all traces were lost. Accordingly it seemed tothe young advocate that they must seek for the solution of thedifficulty in the short stretch of country between Allenburg andTilsit.
Quite dispirited and full of anxious care he arrived one rainy eveningat the small country town of Insterburg, accompanied by the Countess.On entering the wretched apartments in the inn, he became consciousthat a strange kind of expectant feeling was taking possession of him.He felt so like being at home in them, as if he had even been therebefore, or as if the place had been most accurately described to him.The Countess withdrew to her apartments. The young advocate tossedrestlessly on his bed. When the morning sun shone in brightly throughthe window, his eyes fell upon the paper in one corner of the room. Henoticed that a large patch of the blue colour with which the room wasbut lightly washed had fallen off, showing the disagreeable glaringyellow that formed the ground colour, and upon it he observed that allkinds of hideous faces in the New Zealand style had been painted toserve as pleasing arabesques. Perfectly beside himself with joy anddelight, the young lawyer sprang out of bed. He was in the room inwhich Count Z---- had made the all-important will. The descriptionagreed too exactly; there could not be any doubt about the matter.
But why now weary the reader with all the minor details of the thingsthat now took place one after the other? Suffice it to say thatInsterburg was then, as it still is, the seat of a Prussian superiortribunal, at that time called an Imperial Court. The young advocate atonce waited upon the president with the Countess. By means of thepapers which she had brought with her, and which were drawn up in dueauthenticated form, the Countess established her own identity in themost satisfactory manner; and the will was publicly declared to beperfectly genuine. Hence the Countess, who had left her own country ingreat distress and poverty, now returned in the full possession of allthe rights of which a hostile destiny had attempted to deprive her.
In Nanni's eyes the advocate appeared like a hero from heaven, who hadvictoriously protected deserted innocence against the wickedness of theworld. Leberfink also poured out all his great admiration of the younglawyer's acuteness and energy in exaggerated encomiums. Master Wacht,too, praised J
onathan's industry, and this trait he emphasised; and yetthe boy had really done nothing but what it was his duty to do; stillhe somehow fancied that things might have been managed in a muchshorter way. "This event I regard," said Jonathan, "as a star of realgood fortune, which has risen upon the path of my career almost beforeI have started upon it The case has created a great deal of sensation.All the Hungarian magnates are excited about it. My name has becomeknown. And what is a long way the best of all, the Countess was soliberal as to honour me with ten thousand Brabant thalers."[19]
During the course of the young advocate's narration, the muscles ofMaster Wacht's face began to move in a remarkable way, till at last hiscountenance wore an expression of the greatest indignation. "What!"he at length shouted in a lion-like voice, whilst his eyes flashedfire--"What! did I not tell you? You have made a sale of justice. TheCountess, in order to get her lawful inheritance out of the hands ofher rascally relations, has had to pay money, to sacrifice to Mammon.Faugh! faugh! be ashamed of yourself." All the sensible protestationsof the young advocate, as well as of the rest of the persons whohappened to be present, were not of the slightest avail. For a secondit seemed as if their representations would gain a hearing, when it wasstated that no one had ever given a present with more willing pleasurethan the Countess had done on the sudden conclusion of her case, andthat, as good Leberfink very well knew, the young advocate had onlyhimself to blame that his honorarium had not turned out to be more inamount as well as more on a level with the magnitude of the lady'sgain; nevertheless Master Wacht stuck to his own opinion, and theyheard from him in his own obstinate fashion the familiar words, "Sosoon as you begin to talk about justice, you and everybody else in theworld ought to hold your tongues about money. It is true," he went onmore calmly after a pause, "there are several circumstances connectedwith this history which might very well excuse you, and yet at the sametime lead you astray into base selfishness; but have the kindness tohold your tongue about the Countess, and the will, and the ten thousandthalers, if you please. I should indeed be fancying many a time thatyou didn't altogether belong to your place at my table there."
"You are very hard--very unjust towards me, father," said the youngadvocate, his voice trembling with sadness. Nanni's tears flowedquietly; Leberfink, like an experienced man of the world, hastened toturn the conversation upon the new gildings in St. Gangolph's.[20]
It may readily be conceived in what strained relations the members ofWacht's family now lived. Where was their unconstrained conversation,their bright good spirits, where their cheerfulness? A deadly vexationwas slowly gnawing at Wacht's heart, and it stood plainly written uponhis countenance.
Meanwhile they received not the least scrap of intelligence fromSebastian Engelbrecht, and so the last feeble ray of hope that MasterWacht had seen glimmering appeared about to fade. Master Wacht'sforeman, Andreas by name, was a plain, honest, faithful fellow, whoclung to his master with an affection that could not be matchedanywhere. "Master," said he one morning as they were measuring beamstogether--"Master, I can't bear it any longer; it breaks my heart tosee you suffer so. Fraeulein Nanni--poor Herr Jonathan!" Quicklythrowing away the measuring lines, Master Wacht stepped up to him andtook him by the breast, saying, "Man, if you are able to tear out ofthis heart the convictions as to what is true and right which have beenengraven upon it by the Eternal Power in letters of fire, then what youare thinking about may come to pass." Andreas, who was not the man toenter upon a dispute with his master upon these sort of terms,scratched himself behind his ear, and replied with an embarrassedsmirk, "Then if a certain distinguished gentleman were to pay a morningvisit to the workshop, I suppose it would produce no particulareffect?" Master Wacht perceived in a moment that a storm was brewingagainst him, and that it was in all probability being directed by Countvon Koesel.
Just as the clock struck nine Nanni appeared in the workshop, followedby old Barbara with the breakfast. The Master was not well pleased tosee his daughter, since it was out of rule; and he saw the programme ofthe concerted attack already peeping out. Nor was it long before theminor canon really made his appearance, as smart and prim and proper asa pet doll. Close at his heels followed Monsieur Pickard Leberfink,decorator and gilder, clad in all sorts of gay colours, so that helooked not unlike a spring-chafer. Wacht pretended to be highlydelighted with the visit, the cause of which he at once insinuated tobe that the minor canon very likely wanted to see his newest models.The truth is, Master Wacht felt very shy at the possibility of havingto listen to the canon's long-winded sermons, which he would deliverhimself of uselessly if he attempted to shake his (Wacht's) resolutionwith respect to Nanni and Jonathan. Accident came to his rescue; forjust as the canon, the young lawyer, and the varnisher were standingtogether, and the first-named was beginning to approach the mostintimate relations of life in the most elegantly turned phrases, fatHans shouted out "Wood here!" and big Peter on the other side pushedthe wood across to him so roughly that it caught the canon a violentblow on the shoulder and sent him reeling against Monsieur Pickard; hein his turn stumbled against the young advocate, and in a trice thewhole three had disappeared. For just behind them was a huge piled-upheap of chips and saw-dust and so on. The unfortunates were buriedunder this heap, so that all that could be seen of them were four blacklegs and two buff-coloured ones; the latter were the gala stockings ofHerr Pickard Leberfink, decorator and gilder. It couldn't possibly behelped; the journeymen and apprentices burst out into a ringing peal oflaughter, notwithstanding that Master Wacht bade them be still and lookgrave.
Of them all the canon cut the worst figure, since the saw-dust had gotinto the folds of his robe and even into the elegant curls whichadorned his head. He fled as if upon the wings of the wind, coveredwith shame, and the young advocate hard after him. Monsieur PickardLeberfink was the only one who preserved his good humour and took thething in merry part, notwithstanding that it might be regarded ascertain he would never be able to wear the buff-coloured stockingsagain, since the saw-dust had proved especially injurious to them andhad quite destroyed the "clock." Thus the storm which was to have beenadventured against Wacht was baffled by a ridiculous incident. But theMaster did not dream what terrible thing was to happen to him beforethe day was over.
Master Wacht had finished dinner and was just going downstairs in orderto betake himself to his workyard, when he heard a loud, rough voiceshouting in front of the house, "Hi, there! This is where that knavishold rascal, Carpenter Wacht, lives, isn't it?" A voice in the streetmade answer, "There is no knavish old rascal living here; this is thehouse of our respected fellow-citizen Herr Johannes Wacht, thecarpenter." In the same moment the street-door was forced open with aviolent bang, and a big strong fellow of wild appearance stood beforethe master. His black hair stuck up like bristles through his raggedsoldier's cap, and in scores of places his tattered tunic was unable toconceal his loathsome skin, browned with filth and exposure to roughweather. The fellow wore soldier's shoes on his feet, and the blueweals on his ankles showed the traces of the chains he had beenfettered with. "Ho, ho!" cried the fellow, "I bet you don't know me.You don't know Sebastian Engelbrecht, whom you've cheated out of hisproperty--not you." With all the imposing dignity of his majestic form,Master Wacht took a step towards the man, mechanically advancing thecane he held in his hand. Then the wild fellow seemed to be almostthunderstruck; he recoiled a few paces, and then raised his doubledfists shouting, "Ho, ho! I know where my property is, and I'll go andhelp myself to it, in spite of you, you old sinner." And he ran offdown the Kaulberg like an arrow from a bow, followed by the crowd.
Master Wacht stood in the passage like a statue for several seconds.But when Nanni cried in alarm, "Good heavens! father, that wasSebastian," he went into the room, more reeling than walking, and sankdown exhausted in an arm-chair; then, holding both hands before hisface, he cried in a heart-rending voice, "By the eternal mercy of God,that is Sebastian Engelbrecht."
There arose a tumult in the street, the crowd poured down the K
aulberg,and voices in the far distance could be heard shouting "Murder!murder!" A prey to the most terrible apprehensions, the Master, randown to Jonathan's dwelling, situated immediately at the foot of theKaulberg. A dense mass of people were pushing and crowding together infront of him; in their midst he perceived Sebastian struggling like awild animal against the watch, who had just thrown him upon the ground,where they overpowered him and bound him hand and foot, and led himaway. "O God! O God! Sebastian has slain his brother," lamented thepeople, who came crowding out of the house. Master Wacht forced his waythrough and found poor Jonathan in the hands of the doctors, who wereexerting themselves to call him back to life. As he had received threepowerful blows upon the head, dealt with all the strength of a strongman, the worst was to be feared.
As generally happens under such circumstances, Nanni learnt immediatelythe whole history of the affair from her kind-hearted friends, and atonce rushed off to her lover's dwelling, where she arrived just as theyoung lawyer, thanks to the lavish use of naphtha, opened his eyesagain, and the doctors were talking about trepanning. What further tookplace may be conceived. Nanni was inconsolable; Rettel, notwithstandingher betrothal, was sunk in grief; and Monsieur Pickard Leberfinkexclaimed, whilst tears of sorrow ran down his cheeks, "God be mercifulto the man upon whose pate a carpenter's fist falls." The loss of youngHerr Jonathan would be irreparable. At any rate the varnish on hiscoffin should be of unsurpassed brightness and blackness; and thesilvering of the skulls and other nice ornaments should baffle allcomparison.
It appeared that Sebastian had escaped out of the hands of a troop ofBavarian soldiers, whilst they were conducting a band of vagabondsthrough the district of Bamberg, and he had found his way into the townin order to carry out a mad project which he had for a long time beenbrooding over in his mind. His career was not that of an abandoned,vicious criminal; it afforded rather an example of those supremelyfrivolous-minded men, who, despite the very admirable qualities withwhich Nature has endowed them, give way to every temptation to evil,and finally sinking to the lowest depths of vice, perish in shame andmisery. In Saxony he had fallen into the hands of a petti-fogginglawyer, who had made him believe that Master Wacht, when sending himhis patrimonial inheritance, had paid him very much short, and keptback the remainder for the benefit of his brother Jonathan, to whom hehad promised to give his favourite daughter Nanni to wife. Very likelythe old deceiver had concocted this story out of various utterances ofSebastian himself. The kindly reader already knows by what violentmeans Sebastian set to work to secure his own rights. Immediately afterleaving Master Wacht he had burst into Jonathan's room, where thelatter happened to be sitting at his study table, ordering someaccounts and counting the piles of money which lay heaped up beforehim. His clerk sat in the other corner of the room. "Ah! you villain!"screamed Sebastian in a fury, "there you are sitting over your mammon.Are you counting what you have robbed me of? Give me here what yon oldrascal has stolen from me and bestowed upon you. You poor, weak thing!You greedy clutching devil--you!" And when Sebastian strode close up tohim, Jonathan instinctively stretched out both hands to ward him off,crying aloud, "Brother! for God's sake, brother!" But Sebastian repliedby dealing him several stunning blows on the head with his double fist,so that Jonathan sank down fainting. Sebastian hastily seized upon someof the rolls of gold and was making off with them--in which naturallyenough he did not succeed.
Fortunately it turned out that none of Jonathan's wounds, whichoutwardly wore the appearance of large bumps, had occasioned anyserious concussion of the brain, and hence none of them could beesteemed as likely to prove dangerous. After a lapse of two months,when Sebastian was taken away to the convict prison, where he was toatone for his attempt at murder by a heavy punishment, the young lawyerfelt himself quite well again.
This terrible occurrence exerted such a shattering effect upon MasterWacht that a consuming surly peevishness was the consequence of it.This time the stout strong oak was shaken from its topmost branch toits deepest root. Often when his mind was thought to be busy with quitedifferent matters, he was heard to murmur in a low tone, "Sebastian--afratricide! That's how you reward me?" and then he seemed to come tohimself like one awakening out of a nasty dream. The only thing thatkept him from breaking down was the hardest and most assiduous labour.But who can fathom the unsearchable depths in which the secret links offeeling are so strangely forged together as they were in Master Wacht'ssoul? His abhorrence of Sebastian and his wicked deed faded out of hismind, whilst the picture of his own life, ruined by Jonathan's love forNanni, deepened in colour and vividness as the days went by. This frameof mind Master Wacht betrayed in many short exclamations--"So then yourbrother is condemned to hard labour and to work in chains!--That'swhere he has been brought by his attempted crime against you--It's afine thing for a brother to be the cause of making his own brother aconvict--shouldn't like to be in the first brother's place--but lawyersthink differently; they want justice, that is, they want to play with alay figure and dress it up and give it whatever name they please."
Such like bitter, and even incomprehensible reproaches, the youngadvocate was obliged to hear from Master Wacht, and to hear them onlytoo often. Any attempt at rebutting these charges would have beenfruitless. Accordingly Jonathan made no reply; only often when hisheart was almost distracted by the old man's fatal delusion, which wasruining all his happiness, he broke out in his exceeding great pain,"Father, father, you are unjust towards me, exasperatingly unjust."
One day when the family were assembled at the decorator Leberfink's,and Jonathan also was present, Master Wacht began to tell how somebodyhad been saying that Sebastian Engelbrecht, although apprehended as acriminal, could yet make good by action at law his claim against MasterWacht, who had been his guardian. Then, smiling venomously and turningto Jonathan, he went on, "That would be a pretty case for a youngadvocate. I thought you might take up the suit; you might play a partin it yourself; perhaps I have cheated you as well?" This made theyoung lawyer start to his feet; his eyes flashed, his bosom heaved; heseemed all of a sudden to be quite a different man; stretching his handtowards Heaven he cried, "No, you shall no longer be my father; youmust be insane to sacrifice without scruple the peace and happiness ofthe most loving of children to a ridiculous prejudice. You will neversee me again; I will go and at once accept the offer which the Americanconsul made to me to-day; I will go to America." "Yes," replied Wachtfilled with rage and anger, "ay, away out of my eyes, brother of thefratricide, who've sold your soul to Satan." Casting upon Nanni, whowas half fainting, a look full of hopeless love and anguish anddespair, the young advocate hurriedly left the garden.
It was remarked earlier in the course of this story when the younglawyer threatened to shoot himself _a la_ Werther,[21] what a goodthing it was that the indispensable pistol was in very many cases notwithin reach. And here it will be just as useful to remark that theyoung advocate was not able, to his own good be it said, to embarkthere and then on the Regnitz and sail straight away to Philadelphia.Hence it was that his threat to leave Bamberg and his darling Nanni forever remained still unfulfilled, even when at last, after two yearsmore had elapsed, the wedding-day of Herr Leberfink, decorator andgilder, was come. Leberfink would have been inconsolable at this unjustpostponement of his happiness, although the delay was almost a matterof necessity after the terrible events which had fallen blow after blowin Wacht's house, had it not afforded him an opportunity to decorateover again in deep red and appropriate gold the ornamental work in hisparlour, which had before been gay with nice light-blue and silver, forhe had picked up from Rettelchen that a red table, red chairs, and soon, would be more in accordance with her taste.
When the happy decorator insisted upon seeing the young lawyer at hiswedding. Master Wacht had not offered a moment's opposition; and theyoung lawyer--he was pleased to come. It may be imagined with whatfeelings the two young people saw each other again, for since thatterrible moment when Jonathan had left the garden they had literallynot set eyes
upon each other. The assembly was large; but not a singleperson with whom they were on a friendly footing fathomed their pain.
Just as they were on the point of setting out for church. Master Wachtreceived a thick letter; he had read no more than a few lines when hebecame violently agitated and rushed off out of the room, not a littleto the consternation of the rest, who at once suspected some freshmisfortune. Shortly afterwards Master Wacht called the young advocateout. When they were alone together in the Master's own room, thelatter, vainly endeavouring to conceal his excessive agitation, began,"I've got the most extraordinary news of your brother; here is a letterfrom the governor of the prison relating fully all the circumstances ofwhat has taken place. As you cannot know them all, I must begin at thebeginning and tell you everything right to the end so as to makecredible to you what is incredible; but time presses." So saying,Master Wacht fixed a keen glance upon the advocate's face, so that heblushed and cast down his eyes in confusion. "Yes, yes," went on MasterWacht, raising his voice, "you don't know how great a remorse tookpossession of your brother a very few hours after he was put in prison;there is hardly anybody whose heart has been more torn by it. You don'tknow how his attempt at murder and theft has prostrated him. You don'tknow how that in mad despair he prayed Heaven day and night either tokill him or to save him that he might henceforth by the exercise of thestrictest virtue wash himself pure from bloodguiltiness. You don't knowhow that on the occasion of building a large wing to the prison, inwhich the convicts were employed as labourers, your brother sodistinguished himself as a clever and well-instructed carpenter that hesoon filled the post of foreman of the workmen, without anybody'snoticing how it came about so. You don't know how his quiet goodbehaviour, and his modesty, combined with the decision of hisregenerate mind, made everybody his friend. All this you do not know,and so I am telling it you. But to go on. The Prince-bishop haspardoned your brother; he has become a master. But how could all thisbe done without a supply of money?" "I know," said the young advocatein a low voice, "I know that you, my good father, have sent money tothe prison authorities every month, in order that they might keep mybrother separate from the other prisoners and find him betteraccommodation and better food. Later on you sent him materials for histrade"---- Then Master Wacht stepped close up to the young advocate,took him by both arms, and said in a voice that vacillated in a waythat cannot be described between delight, sadness, and pain, "But wouldthat alone have helped Sebastian to honour again, to freedom, and hiscivil rights, and to property, however strongly his fundamentalvirtuous qualities had sprung up again? An unknown philanthropist, whomust take an especially warm interest in Sebastian's fate, hasdeposited ten thousand 'large' thalers with the court, to"---- MasterWacht could not speak any further owing to his violent emotion; he drewthe young advocate impetuously to his heart, crying, though he couldonly get out his words with difficulty, "Advocate, help me to penetrateto the deep import of law such as lives in your breast, and that I maystand before the Eternal Bar of justice as you will one day standbefore it.--And yet," he continued after a pause of some seconds,releasing the young lawyer, "and yet, my dear Jonathan, if Sebastiannow comes back as a good and industrious citizen and reminds me of mypledged word, and Nanni"---- "Then I will bear my trouble till it killsme," said the young advocate; "I will flee to America." "Stay here,"cried Master Wacht in an enthusiastic burst of joy and delight, "stayhere, son of my heart! Sebastian is going to marry a girl whom heformerly deceived and deserted. Nanni is yours."
Once more the Master threw his arms around Jonathan's neck, saying, "Mylad, I feel like a schoolboy before you, and should like to beg yourpardon for all the blame I have put upon you, and all the injustice Ihave done you. But let us say no more; other people are waiting forus." Therewith Master Wacht took hold of the young lawyer and pulledhim along into the room where the wedding guests were assembled; therehe placed himself and Jonathan in the midst of the company, and said,raising his voice and speaking in a solemn tone, "Before we proceed tocelebrate the sacred rite I invite you all, my honest friends, ladiesand gentlemen, and you too, my virtuous maidens and young men, sixweeks hence to a similar festival in my house; for here I introduce toyou Herr Jonathan Engelbrecht, the advocate, to whom I herewithsolemnly betroth my youngest daughter, Nanni." The lovers sank intoeach other's arms. A breath of the profoundest astonishment passedover the whole assembly; but good old Andreas, holding his littlethree-cornered carpenter's cap before his breast, said softly, "A man'sheart is a wonderful thing; but true, honest faith overcomes the baseand even sinful resoluteness of a hardened spirit; and all things turnout at last for the best, just as the good God wishes them to do."
FOOTNOTES TO "MASTER JOHANNES WACHT":
[Footnote 1: Included in a collection of stories entitled _Geschichten,Maerchen, und Sagen_, Von Fr. H. v. d. Hagen, E. T. A. Hoffmann, und H.Steffens; Breslau, 1823.]
[Footnote 2: See Footnote 19 above, for "Master Martin, The Cooper."]
[Footnote 3: The stern inexorable Republican patriot, who kills evenhis friend Fiesco when the latter refuses to throw aside the purpledignity he had assumed. See Schiller's _Fiesko_, act v., last scene(cf. I. 10-13; III. 1).]
[Footnote 4: A long hilly street in Bamberg.]
[Footnote 5: Pet name for Johannes, the name of Wacht's son.]
[Footnote 6: _Rettel_ and _Rettelchen_ (little Rettel) are pet namesfor Margaret.]
[Footnote 7: The anniversary of the consecration of the church is madethe occasion of a great and general festive holiday in many parts ofGermany, particularly in the south.]
[Footnote 8: "Noodles" are long strips of rolled-out paste, made up andcooked in various ways.]
[Footnote 9: Seehof or Marquardsburg, situated to the north-east ofBamberg, was formerly a bishop's castle, and was rebuilt by MarquardSebastian Schenk of Stauffenberg in 1688.]
[Footnote 10: Stracchino, a kind of cheese made in North Italy,especially in Brescia, Milan, and Bergamo.]
[Footnote 11: A pet name for Gretchen (Margaret), frequently used alsoas equivalent to "sweetheart," "lass," just as we might say, "EveryJohnny has his Jeannie."]
[Footnote 12: A long winding suburb of Bamberg.]
[Footnote 13: Or Bug, as it is generally spelled, a pleasure resort onthe Regnitz, about half an hour distant from Bamberg. Hoffmann was inthe habit of visiting it almost daily when he lived at Bamberg.]
[Footnote 14: In the days before ice was preserved on such an extensivescale by the German brewers as it is at the present time, beer was keptin excavations in rock, wherever a suitable place could be found; thismade it deliciously cool and fresh.]
[Footnote 15: Goethe's well-known work.]
[Footnote 16: A once rich and celebrated Benedictine abbey betweenBamberg and Coburg, founded in the eleventh century, and frequentlydestroyed and sacked in war.]
[Footnote 17: That is, they were golden, or gilded.]
[Footnote 18: Hinze is Tieck's _Gestiefelter Kater_ (Puss in Boots).The reference is perhaps to act ii. scene 2, where Hinze goes out tocatch rabbits, &c., and hears the nightingale singing, the humour ofthe scene lying in the quick alternation of the human poetic sentimentsand the native instincts of the cat.]
[Footnote 19: So named from the place where they were struck. See note,p. 281, Vol. I., viz.--Imperial thalers varied in value at differenttimes, but estimating their value at three shillings, the sum herementioned would be equivalent to about L22,500. A _Frederick d'or_ wasa gold coin worth five thalers.]
[Footnote 20: A church situated at the beginning of the Steinweg.]
[Footnote 21: It need scarcely be said this refers to the excessivelysentimental hero of Goethe's _Leiden des jungen Werthers_.]
_BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE._[1]
Like many others whose pens have been employed in authorship, thesubject of this notice, Ernst Theodor Wilhelm[2] Hoffmann, led a verychequered life, the various facts and incidents of which throw a gooddeal of light upon his writings.
Hoffma
nn was born at Koenigsberg in Prussia on the 24th January,1776.[3] His parents were very ill-assorted, and led such an unhappylife that they parted in young Ernst's third year. His father, who wasin the legal profession, was a man of considerable talent and of acuteintellect, but irregular and wild in his habits and given toreprehensible practices. His mother, on the contrary, the daughter ofConsistorialrath Doerffer, had been trained up on the strictest moralprinciples, and to habits of orderliness and propriety; and to herregard for outward conformity to old-established forms and conventionalroutine was added a weak and ailing condition of body, which made herfor the most part a confirmed invalid. When, in 1782, the elderHoffmann was promoted to the dignity of judge and transferred to acriminal court at Insterburg (Prussia), Ernst was taken into the houseof his maternal grandmother; and his father appears never to havetroubled himself further either about him or his elder brother, whoafterwards took to evil ways. The brothers in all probability never metagain, though an unfinished letter, dated 10th July, 1817, foundamongst Hoffmann's papers after his death, was evidently written to hisbrother in reply to one received from him requesting pecuniaryassistance.
In his grandmother's house young Hoffmann spent his boyhood and youth.The members of the household were four, the grandmother, her son, hertwo daughters, of whom one was the boy's invalid mother. The old lady,owing to her great age, was also virtually an invalid; so that both sheand her daughter scarcely ever left their room, and hence theirinfluence upon young Ernst's education and training was practicallynil. His uncle, however, after an abortive attempt to follow the law,had settled down to a quiet vegetative sort of existence, which heregulated strictly according to fixed rules and methodical procedure;and these he imposed more or less upon the household. Justizrath Otto(or Ottchen, as his mother continued to call him to her life's end),though acting as a dead weight upon his high-spirited, quick-wittednephew's intellectual development, by his efforts to mould him to hisown course of life and his own unpliant habits of thought, neverthelessplanted certain seeds in the boy's mind which proved of permanentservice to him throughout all his subsequent career. To this preciseand order-loving uncle he owed his first thorough grounding in theelements of music, and also his persevering industry and sense ofmethod and precision. As uncle and nephew shared the same sitting-roomand the same sleeping-chamber, and as the former would never suffer anydeparture from the established routine of things, the boy Ernst begannot only to look forward to the one afternoon a week when Otto went outto make his calls, but also to study narrowly his uncle's habits, andto play upon his weaknesses and turn them to his own advantage, so thatby the time he was twelve years old he was quite an adept at mystifyingthe staid old gentleman. His aunt, an unmarried lady, was cheerful,witty, and full of pleasant gaiety; she was the only one who understoodand appreciated her clever nephew; indeed she was so fond of him, andhumoured him to such an extent, that she is said to have spoiled him.It was to her he poured out all his childish troubles and all hisboyish confidences and weaknesses. Her love he repaid with faithfulaffection, and he has memorialised it in a touching way in thecharacter of "Tante Fuesschen" in _Kater Murr_ (Pt. I.), where alsoother biographical details of this period may be read. Of his poormother, feeble in body and in mind alike, Hoffmann only spokeunwillingly, but always with deep respect mingled with sadness.
Two other persons must be mentioned as having exercised a lastinginfluence upon his early life. One of these was an old great-uncle,Justizrath Voethoery, brother of both his grandmothers, and a gentlemanof Hungarian origin. This excellent man was retired from all business,with the exception that he continued to act as justiciary for theestates of certain well-tried friends. He used to visit the variousproperties at stated seasons of the year, and was always a welcomeguest; for this "hero of olden times in dressing-gown and slippers," asWilibald Alexis called him, was the V---- who figures so geniallyin _Das Majorat_ ("The Entail"). The old gentleman once took hisgreat-nephew with him on one of these trips, and to it we are indebtedfor this master-piece of Hoffmann. The other person who gave a bent toyoung Ernst's mind was Dr. Wannowski, the head of the German ReformedSchool in Koenigsberg, where the boy was sent in his sixth or seventhyear. Wannowski, who possessed the faculty of awakening slumberingtalent in his pupils, and attracting them to himself, enjoyed thefriendship and intercourse of Kant, Hippel (the elder), Scheffner,Hamann, and others, and might perhaps lay claim to be called a PrussianDr. Arnold, owing to the many illustrious pupils he turned out.
During the first seven years of his school-days, young Hoffmann was innowise distinguished above his school-fellows either for industry orfor quickness of parts. But when he reached his thirteenth orfourteenth year, his taste for both music and painting was awakened.His liking for these two arts was so genuine and sincere, andconsequently his progress in them so rapid, that he came to be lookedupon as a child-wonder. He would sit down at a piano and playimprovisations and other compositions of his own creation, to theastonishment of all who heard him, for his performances, thoughsomewhat fantastic, were not wanting in talent and originality, and hisdiminutive stature made him appear some years younger than he reallywas. In drawing he early showed a decided inclination for caricature,and in this his quickness of perception and accuracy in reproductionproved of permanent service to him. Later he endeavoured to improvehimself both in theory and in practice in higher styles also: in theformer by diligent study of Winckelmann, and in the latter by copyingthe models of the art treasures of Herculaneum preserved in the RoyalLibrary.
In his eleventh year Hoffmann made the acquaintance of Theodor vonHippel, nephew of T. G. Hippel, author of _Die Lebenslaeufe inaufsteigender Linie_, a boy one month older than himself. Theacquaintance ripened into a warm fast friendship when the two boysrecognised each other again at the same school, and they continuedfaithful devoted friends until the day of Hoffmann's death. What tendedprincipally to knit them together was the similarity and yet differencein their bringing up and family relations. Both grew up without thesociety of brothers or sisters or playfellows; but whilst Hoffmann wasa son of the town, Hippel's early days had been spent in the country.In another respect, too, they presented a striking contrast inbehaviour; Hoffmann's chief delight was to mystify and tease his uncleOtto, but Hippel was most scrupulous in paying to all the proper meedof respect which he conceived he owed them. Once when Hippel reproachedhis friend about his behaviour towards his uncle, young Hoffmannreplied, "But think what relatives fate has blessed me with! If I onlyhad a father and an uncle like yours such things would never come intomy head." This saying is significant for the understanding of the earlystages of Hoffmann's intellectual development.
The bonds of inclination and natural liking were drawn still closer byan idea of uncle Otto's. It was arranged that young Hippel should spendthe Wednesday afternoons (when the Justizrath went out to make hisround of visits amongst his acquaintances), along with his friend instudying together, principally the classics. And Saturday afternoonswere also to be devoted to the same duties whenever practicable. But,as might very well be expected, the classics soon gave way to otherbooks, such as Rousseau's _Confessions_ and Wiegleb's _NatuerlicheMagie_;[4] and these in turn were forced to yield to such pastimes asmusic, drawing, mummeries, boyish games, masquerades, and even morepretentious adventures out in the garden, such as mimic chivalriccontests, construction of underground passages, &c. The boys alsodiscovered common ground in their desire to cultivate their minds bypoetry and other reading. The last two years at school were mostbeneficial and productive in shaping Hoffmann's mind; he acquired ataste for classics and excited the attention of his teachers by hisartistic talents, his graphic powers of representation being noticeableeven at this early age. During this time also he cultivated theacquaintance of the painter Matuszewski, whom he introduces by name inhis tale _Der Artushof_ ("Arthur's Hall").
When sixteen or seventeen years old Hoffmann conceived his first boyishaffection, which only deserves mention as giving occasion to a frequentutterance
of his at this time, that illustrates one of the moststriking sides of his character. It appears that the young lady who wasthe object of his fancied passion either refused to notice his homageor else laughed it to scorn, for he remarked to his friend with greatwarmth of feeling, "Since I can't interest her with a pleasingexterior, I wish I were a perfect image of ugliness, so that I mightstrike her attention, and so make her at least look at me."
The beginning of Hoffmann's university career--he matriculated atKoenigsberg on 27th March, 1792--offers nothing of special interest. Hedecided to study jurisprudence. In making this decision he wasdoubtless influenced by the family connections and the traditionalcalling of the male members of the family. As already remarked, hisfather, his uncle, and his great-uncle had all followed the professionof law, and he had another uncle Doerffer in the same profession, whooccupied a position of some influence at Glogau in Silesia. But it isalso certain that he was determined to this decision--it cannot becalled choice--from the desire to make himself independent of thefamily in Koenigsberg as soon as he could contrive to do so, in orderthat he might free himself from the shackles and galling unpleasantnessof the untoward relations in life to which he was there subject. But hewas devoted heart and soul to art--to music and painting. As thestudies of the two friends, Hoffmann and Hippel, were different, theynecessarily did not see so much of each other as previously; but once aweek during the winter months they devoted a night to mutualoutpourings of the things that were in them--the aspirations, hopes,dreams, and plans for the future, &c., such as imaginative youths arewont to cherish and indulge in. These meetings were strictly confinedto their two selves; no third was admitted. Their rules were one bottleof wine for the whole evening, and the conversation to be carried on inrhymed verses; and Hoffmann we find looking back upon these hours withglad remembrance even in the full flush of his manhood and fame: evenon his last sad birthday, a few months before his death, he dwells uponthem with fond delight.
Whilst, however, devoting himself enthusiastically to the pursuit ofart, he did not neglect his more serious studies. He made good andsteady progress in the knowledge of law; and he also gave lessons inmusic. It was whilst officiating in this latter capacity that his heartwas stirred by its first serious passion--a passion which left anindelible impress upon all his future life. He fell in love with acharming girl, who had a fine taste and true sentiment in art matters,but who was separated from her admirer by an impassable barrier ofrank; but although her social position was far above Hoffmann's, yetshe returned warmly his pure and ardent affection. Hoffmann, however,never disguised from himself the hopelessness of his love; and the factthat it was so hopeless embittered all the rest of his time inKoenigsberg, until he left it in June, 1796, for a legal appointment atGreat Glogau in Silesia.
As these years seem to have been mainly instrumental informing his character and shaping its outlines and giving depth andstrength to its chief features, it is desirable to dwell for a momentupon the principal currents which at this time poured their influencesupon him. By nature of a genial and gay temperament, gifted with anacute perception, which he had further trained in sharpness andaccuracy, endowed with no small share of talent and with an ardent lovefor art, ambitious, vain in some respects, full of high spirits, andwith a keen sense of humour, and not devoid of originality, he wasdaily chafed and galled in the depressing atmosphere of his homerelations. He felt how illogical was the rigid methodicity, howunreasonable the arbitrary routine, how absurd the restrictions andrestraints of his uncle's household regulations; he was eager to bequit of them, to turn his back upon them; he was anxious to find acongenial field for his powers-~a field where he could turn hisaccomplishments and genius to good account. The only way in which hecould hope to do so at present, at least for some years to come, was bypursuing a legal career, and law he had no inclination for. He says, ina letter to Hippel, dated 25th Nov., 1795, "If it depended upon myselfalone I should be a musical composer, and I have hopes that I could dosomething great in that line; as for the one I have now chosen, I shallbe a bungler in it as long as I live." He gradually came to live upon astrained and barely tolerable footing with his uncle, since as he grewolder his tricks and ironical behaviour towards little Otto assumed amore pronounced character, and stirred up in the old gentleman's mindfeelings of suspicion against his unmanageable nephew. In thesecircumstances we may easily discern the germs of a dissatisfaction notonly with his lot in life but also with himself.
Next came the fact of his hopeless love which has just been mentioned.And another and no less potent cause which tended to deepen andintensify this spirit of inward dissatisfaction was the delay thatoccurred between his passing his entrance examination into the legalprofession in July, 1795, and his appointment to a definite post ofactive duty in June, 1796. To be compelled to wear out his independent,ambitious heart in forced inactivity must have been galling in theextreme, especially when it is remembered how eagerly he was longing toshake himself free from the relations amidst which he had grown up, andhis no less earnest desire to get beyond the reach of the passion, orat any rate the object of the passion, that was gnawing at his veryheart-strings. To an energetic spirit, longing for a useful sphere ofactivity, hardly anything can be more fruitful as a source ofunhappiness than enforced idleness. And this sentiment Hoffmann givesfrequent utterance to in his letters at this period.
During these same months he cultivated his mind by the perusal of theworks of such writers as Jean Paul, Schiller, and Goethe, the intellectualgiants upon whom the eyes of Germany were at that time fixed in wonder.But this course of reading, instead of counteracting, rather encourageda native leaning towards poetic dreaming and sentimentality. In a letterto Hippel, dated 10th Jan., 1796, he even says, "I cannot possibly demandthat she [the lady he loved] should love me to the same unmeasured extentof passionate devotion that has turned my head--and this torments me....I can never leave her; she might weep for me for twenty-four hours andthen forget me--I should _never forget her_." There was yet another causeor series of causes which co-operated with those mentioned above toincrease the distracted and agitated condition of his heart. It has beenalready stated more than once that he was a diligent student of music andpainting. These formed his recreation from the severe and dry study oflaw-books; but to these two arts he now added the fascination ofliterary composition, and wrote two novels, which he entitled _Cornaro_and _Der Geheimnissvolle_. The former was rejected by a publisher, whohad at first held out some hopes of being able to accept it, on theground that its author was unknown. Besides this, the productions ofhis brush failed to sell. Hence fresh sources of disappointment andvexation.
Through all this, however, even in his darkest moods and most desperatemoments, he was upheld by the feelings and sentiments associated withhis friendship for his unshaken friend Hippel. To him he poured out allhis troubles in a series of letters,[5] which gave a most graphicaccount of his mental condition at this period. He led a very retiredlife, hardly seeing anybody; he calls himself an anchorite, and stateshe was living apart from all the world, seeking to find food forcontemplation and reflection in his own self. He also fostered, perhapsunconscious to himself, high poetic aspirations, and also thoseextravagant dreams of friendship which were so fashionable in the daysof "Posa" and "Werther" and Wieland; "his heart was never moresusceptible to what is good," and "his bosom never swelled with noblerthoughts," he says in one of his letters. Then he goes on to describethe "flat, stale, and unprofitable" surroundings in the midst of whichhe was confined. "Round about me here it is icy cold, as in NovaZembla, whilst I am burning and being consumed by the fiery breathwithin me," he says in another place. The violence of his innerconflict, of his heart-torture and unhappiness, finds vent in a wildburst in the letter before quoted of 10th Jan., 1796 (and also inothers). He says:--
"Many a time I think it's all over with me, and if it were not for myuncle's little musical evenings. I don't know what really would becomeof me.... Let me stay here and eat my heart out.... Noth
ing can be madeof me, that you will see quite well.... I am ruined for everything; Ihave been cheated in everything, and in a most exasperating way." ...Again, "If I thought it possible that this frantic imp, my fancy, atwhich I laugh right sardonically in my calmer moments, could everstrain the fibres of my brain or could touch the feelers of myemotional power, I should wish to cry with Shakespeare's Falstaff, 'Iwould it were bedtime, and all well;'" ... and "I am accused by theSanta Hermandad of my own conscience." And in another letter he unbaresthe root of all his troubles in the exclamation, "Oh! that I had amother like you."
Tearing himself away from his lady-love with a violent wrench, Hoffmannleft Koenigsberg in a sort of "dazed or intoxicated state," his heartbleeding with the anguish of parting. He arrived at Glogau on 15thJune, and met with a very friendly reception from his uncle and hisuncle's family, which consisted of his wife and a son and twodaughters. But though they appear to have exerted themselves to makethe unhappy youth comfortable, his heart and mind were too muchoccupied with the dear one he had left behind for him to derive fullbenefit from their kind and well-meant attentions. In the first letterhe wrote to his friend from his new home he says, "As Hamlet advisedhis mother, I have thrown away the worser part of my heart to live thepurer with the other half.... Am I happy, you ask? I was never moreunhappy." In other letters, written some months later, he writes, "I amtired of railing against Destiny and myself.... There are moments inwhich I despair of all that is good, in which I feel it has beenenjoined upon me to work against everything that makes a vaunt ofspecious happiness." But he took no manful and resolute steps to battleagainst his unhappy state; he continued to correspond with the lady ofhis affections, to gaze upon her portrait, to write to his friend abouther, and to dwell upon the past, the hours he had spent in her society.His relatives, though treating him with all kindness, would seem tohave endeavoured to reason him out of his passion, since after he hadbeen some months in Glogau, he complains that those who had at firstbeen all love and sympathy were now cold and reserved towards him; hewas misunderstood; he was tormented with _ennui_, and looked withcontempt (partly amused and partly bitter) upon the childish folliesand fopperies, the trifling and dandling with serious feelings andaffections, of the folks amongst whom he lived, who spent their time in"hunting after flies and _bonmots_." During these months, however, andduring the course of the two years he spent in Silesia, he penetrateddeeper into the secret constitution of his own nature than he ever didbefore or after: we find him confessing to his hot passionatedisposition and his quickness to take offence, and making mention ofthe change that had taken place in him since the days of his earlyfriendship with Hippel--he was become hypochondriacal, dissatisfiedwith himself, ready to kick against destiny, and prone to assume adefiant attitude towards her and to blame her and call her to accountfor her treatment of him; then again he was melancholy and sad andsentimental, using in his letters expressions built up after JeanPaul's style, and indulging in gushing protestations of unalterablefriendship. But then this was the age of exaggerated friendships. Hishumour and joviality did not, however, altogether desert him; he madehimself a welcome guest of an evening, and carried out amusing prankswith his merry cousins.
In the spring of 1797 Hoffmann accompanied his uncle on a journey toKoenigsberg, where he again saw the young girl he loved, but only toopen up again all the anguish of the wounds that had never yet fullyhealed. On his return to Glogau things continued much as they wereprevious to his visit to his native town.
Of his two favourite arts, painting seems to have occupied him morethan music just at this period. Probably this was due to the influenceof the painter Molinari, whose acquaintance he made before he had beensix months in Glogau; and besides this man, whom he styles a "child ofmisfortune" like himself, he also enjoyed the society of Holbein,dramatic poet and actor; of Julius von Voss, a well-known writer; andof the Countess Lichtenau, formerly favourite of Frederick William II.of Prussia, but at that time a sort of prisoner in the garrison atGlogau.[6] The serious study of law he also prosecuted mostassiduously, and to such good purpose that in June, 1798, he wasable to surmount successfully his second or "referendary" examination.But for this earnest and persevering labour there was a specialincitement--a particular cause. However contradictory it may sound, hewas already engaged in another love affair; this time with the lady whoafterwards became his wife, Maria Thekla Michaelina Rorer, of Polishextraction. The beginning of his intimacy with her dates, strange tosay, from the early part of the year 1797, just previous to his journeyto Koenigsberg with his uncle. Soon after passing his "referendary"examination, he was moved to the Supreme Court at Berlin, as aconsequence of the promotion of his uncle to be _geheimerObertribunalsrath_ in the capital. But before proceeding to Berlin totake up his residence there, Hoffmann made a tour through the Silesianmountains, partly with an eccentric friend of his uncle's and partlyalone, finishing up the trip by an inspection of the art treasures ofDresden, where he was specially struck with works by Correggio andBattoni (mentioned in _Der Sandmann_, &c.) and Raphael. One veryremarkable incident which happened to him during this trip must not bepassed over in silence. He was induced to play at faro at a certainplace where he stopped, and though he was perfectly unskilled in thegame, yet he had such an extraordinary run of good luck, that he rosefrom the table with what was for him a small fortune. Next morningthe event made so deep and powerful an impression upon his excitabletemperament--his mind was so awed by the magnitude of hiswinnings--that he vowed never to touch a card again so long as he lived;and this vow he faithfully kept. In the tale _Spielerglueck_ ("Gambler'sLuck") we find the incident recorded in the experiences of BaronSiegfried; and in the third volume of the _Serapionsbrueder_ (Part VI.)he relates some of the very amusing eccentricities of his travellingcompanion, which are too long to be given here.
We next find Hoffmann in Berlin, where, whilst the impressions which hehad brought back with him from his excursion were still fresh upon hismind, he began to revel in the enjoyment of the picture-galleries andother opportunities for cultivating his taste in art. Here he sawreally how little his own skill in painting was developed; he threwaway colours, and took up drawing again like a beginner. His positionin a professional regard now took a more favourable turn. Freiherrvon Schleinitz, the first president of the court to which Hoffmannwas attached, was a friend of Hippel's; and both he and the genialgood-hearted second president Von Kircheisen noticed and encouraged histalents. In consequence, he laboured at his duties and studies withsuch zeal that he succeeded in passing his third and last examination,the so-called _examen rigorosum_, and so qualifying for the position ofjudge in the highest courts of Prussia, in the summer of 1799. He wasrecommended for an appointment as councillor in a provincial supremecourt; but before proceeding to the dignity of councillor it wasobligatory upon him to serve a probationary year as _assessor_. He wasaccordingly sent down to the newly-acquired Polish provinces (SouthPrussia, as they were called), to the town of Posen, where work wasplentiful and talented and energetic workers were in demand. Beforeleaving the capital he had the pleasure of seeing his friend Hippel,who spent two happy months with him, living the past over again,visiting Potsdam, Dessau, Leipsic, Dresden, &c., and discussing thejourney to Italy, which through all his life Hoffmann continued todream of as an ideal plan to be some time consummated, but whichunfortunately never was consummated. Hippel accompanied his friend toPosen.
The Polish provinces were fraught with great danger for any young manwho was not possessed of exceptional firmness and sound moralprinciples. For a young lawyer, the work was severe and exacting, butthe emoluments were large. Time, however, failed to allow ofcultivating the higher sources of enjoyment; hence all hastened to makethe most of it by throwing themselves into the lower. Drinking was ahabit of the country; and the drink that was drunk was of the strongestkinds, the fiery wines of Hungary and strong liquors. There reignedalso a deplorable laxity of morals; and the graceful Polish women werevery seductive. That Hoffmann followed the
example of his colleagues,and plunged into the giddy whirlpool of miscalled pleasure, willperhaps appear natural when we take into consideration the sources ofdiscontent that had for some time been fermenting in his spirit. Havingbeen submitted to the trammels of unreasonable constraint, it need notbe wondered at that his passionate restless nature should be enticed bythe temptations to which he was now so suddenly and unreservedlyexposed, that he forgot all his higher strivings and cast his betterpurposes to the winds, and drank greedily of the pleasures of lifewhich his newly-won freedom brought in so easy and seductive a formwithin his reach. He candidly states, "for some months a conflict offeelings, principles, &c., which are directly contradictory the one tothe other, has been raging within me; I wished to stifle allrecollection, and become what schoolmasters, preachers, uncles, andaunts call profligate." There was none in the circles which hefrequented to encourage him in his desire to reach out after betterthings, to live himself into "the poetry of life," as Hitzig expressesit; and hence he fell into the mire of demoralisation, and his fall wasthe greater since he set about it with deliberate intent.
He was at length so far carried away by the delirious whirl into whichhe had been caught as to engage in a piece of wanton folly that threwhim back upon his career by some years, just as he was about to planthis foot securely upon the path leading to the summits of hisprofession. Beguiled by his striking talent for caricature, he designedand executed a series of sketches, satirising in an exquisitely wittyand humorous style various situations and characters and well-knownrelations of Posen society. The inscriptions appended to thecaricatures were not less skilfully done than were the caricaturesthemselves. No rank of society was spared, and hardly any person ofconsequence in the town. One of his friends, who afterwards became hisbrother-in-law, distributed the leaves at a masked ball in the disguiseof an Italian hawker of pictures, cleverly contriving to place eachindividual sketch in the hands of the person to whom it would mostlikely be most welcome. Hence for several minutes universal glee at theexcellent jest! But when they came to compare notes, _i.e._, thepresents they had received, the merriment gave way to hot indignation.The author of the outrage was very speedily guessed at, since there wasonly one person in Posen with proved ability enough to wield the pencilso as to produce such striking likenesses--unfortunate Hoffmann! Thatvery same night it is said that a man of high rank, General vonZastrow, deeply incensed at several of the pieces in which he himselfplayed a ridiculous _role_, sent off an express courier to Berlin witha report of the whole affair. The consequence of the thoughtless trickwas that Hoffmann's patent as councillor to the government at Posen,which lay all ready for signing, was exchanged for one appointing himto the town of Plock (on the R. Vistula). Thither he went early in1802, accompanied by his wife, whose maiden name was "Rorer, or ratherTrzczynska, a Poless by birth, daughter of the former town-councillorT. of Posen, twenty-two years old, of medium stature and good figure,with dark-brown hair and dark blue eyes," as he himself describes her.He had taken the step of marriage in face of the earnest dissuasion ofhis uncle Otto, in the last months of his residence in Posen. Butprevious to this, late in the autumn of 1801, he had paid another visitto Koenigsberg, meeting on his return journey his friend Hippel; andtogether they saw Elbing and Dantzic. To this latter visit we owe thestory of _Der Artushof_ ("Arthur's Hall"), published in 1817. Hippel, beit remarked, was disagreeably struck by the change in his friend:Hoffmann gave himself up to an unhealthy degree, to wild andextravagant gaiety, and disclosed a liking for what was low and lewd.
In Plock Hoffmann spent two years. This was a quiet, stagnant place,where, according to his own account, he "was buried alive," and "walkedin a morass covered with low thorny shrubs which lacerated his feet;"he "thought of Yorick and the imprisoned starling;" and he should havegiven way to despair had not the bitter experiences which he was madeto drain to the lees been sweetened by the affection of his dear goodwife, who gave him strength for the present and encouraged him to hopefor the future. Owing to the external circumstances in the midst ofwhich he was fixed, he again turned his attention seriously to musicand painting, and also to authorship. He wrote short essays, composedmasses, vespers, and sonatas, and translated Italian canzonets, &c._Scherz, List, und Rache_, a _Singspiel_ of Goethe's, he had alreadyset to music in Posen. During these two years he led a more strictlydomestic life, and spent more of his time out of the hours of officialduty in his own house, than he ever did afterwards. Here also, asalmost everywhere throughout his life he was zealous and industrious indischarging the duties of his position. At length, just as he wasbeginning to settle down and feel contented with his lot in Plock, hisfriends in Berlin succeeded in securing his removal (1804) to a betterand more congenial sphere of activity in Warsaw. After once morevisiting Koenigsberg in February, 1804, and then spending several dayswith Hippel on his estate at Leistenau (province Marienwerder, EastPrussia), he eventually proceeded to his new post in Poland in thespring of that same year.
One illustrative and very characteristic anecdote of this perioddeserves mention. In a letter to Hippel, dated "Plock, 3rd October,1803," Hoffmann writes, "My uncle in Berlin will never do much more torecommend me, for he has become 'a grave man,' as Mercutio says inShakespeare;[7] he died on the night of 24-25th September ofinflammation of the lungs." But in his diary of October 1 he writes, inallusion to the same sad event, "My tears did not flow, nor did fearand grief draw from me any loud lamentations; but the image of the manwhom I loved and honoured is constantly before my eyes; it never leavesme. The whole day through my mind has been in a tumult; my nerves areso excited that the least little noise makes me start." Thus he couldjest in the midst of pain; and it is a type of the man's character.
Warsaw, in notable contrast to other places in the Polish provinces,possessed many things calculated to excite and engage the attention ofan active mind, of a mind so eager for knowledge and so keenly alive toall that was especially interesting and extraordinary as wasHoffmann's. The new scene of his labours cannot be better describedthan in the words of Hitzig and of Hoffmann himself. The former saysthe city had
"Streets of magnificent breadth, consisting of palaces in the finestItalian style and of wooden huts which threaten every moment to tumbletogether about the ears of their indwellers; in these edifices Asiaticsumptuousness most closely mingled with Greenland filth; a populaceincessantly on the stir, forming, as in a procession of maskers, themost startling contrasts--long-bearded Jews, and monks clad in the garbof every order, closely veiled nuns of the strictest rules andunapproachable reserve, and troops of young Polesses dressed in thegayest-coloured silk mantles conversing to each other across thespacious squares, venerable old Polish gentlemen with moustaches,caftan, _pass_ (girdle), sabre, and yellow or red boots, the cominggeneration in the most matchless of Parisian fashions, Turks andGreeks, Russians, Italians, and Frenchmen in a constantly varyingcrowd; besides this an almost inconceivably tolerant police, whonever interfered to prevent any popular enjoyment, so that thestreets and squares were always swarming with 'punch-and-judy' shows,dancing-bears, camels, and apes, whilst the occupants of the mostelegant equipage equally with the common porter stopped to stare atthem open-mouthed; further, a theatre conducted in the nationallanguage, a thoroughly good French troupe, an Italian opera, Germancomedians, who were at least ready to undertake almost anything,'routs' of a quite original but extremely attractive kind, and resortsof pilgrims in the immediate vicinity of the town--was there notsomething for an eye like Hoffmann's to see and for a hand likeHoffmann's to sketch?"[8]
Thus far Hitzig. Hoffmann writes on May 14, 1804:--
"Yesterday ... I resolved to enjoy myself; I threw away my deeds andsat down to the piano to compose a sonata, but soon found myself in thesituation of Hogarth's _Musicien enrage_ (Wrathful Musician).Immediately underneath my window there arose certain differencesbetween three women selling meal, two wheelbarrow-men, and one sailor;each of the parties pleaded its cause with a good deal of violentdemonstration before the t
ribunal of the hunchback, who stands with astall under the door-way below. Whilst this was going on the bells ofthe parish church, of the Bennonites, and of the Dominican church (allclose to me) began to clang; in the churchyard of the last named (rightopposite to me) the hopeful catechumens were hammering away on two oldkettle-drums, with which all the dogs of the neighbourhood, spurred bythe strong powers of instinct, joined with a chorus of barkings andhowlings--at that moment too Wambach and his musical band ofJanissaries trotted gaily past to the merry strains of their ownmusic--meeting them out of [another] street came a herd of swine. Atremendous friction in the middle of the street--seven swine wereridden over! Terrific squealing!--Oh!--oh! a _tutti_ invented for thetorture of the damned! Here I threw aside my pen and paper, pulled onmy top-boots, and ran away out of the wild mad tumult through theCracow suburb--through the 'new world'--down the hill. A sacred Grovereceived me in its shade; I was in Lazienki.[9] Ay, truly, the pleasantpalace swims upon the mirror-like lake like a virgin swan. Zephyrs comewafted through the blossoming trees loaded with voluptuous delight. Howpleasant to stroll through the thickly foliaged walks! That is theplace for an amiable Epicurean to live in. What! why this man withthe white nose galloping[10] along here through the dark-leaved treesmust be the 'Commendatore' in _Don Juan_. Ah! John Sobieski! _Pinkfecit--male fecit_. Oh! what a state of things! He is riding overwrithing prostrate slaves, who are stretching up their withered armsto the rearing horse--an ugly sight! What! is it possible? GreatSobieski--as a Roman with _wonci_[11] has girt a Polish sabre about hiswaist, and it is made--of wood--ridiculous!... You ask me, my dearfriend, how I like Warsaw. A motley world! too noisy--too wild--tooharum-scarum--everything topsy-turvey! Where can I find time to write,to sketch, to compose music? The king ought to give up Lasienki to me;_there_ one could live nicely, if you like!"[12]
The first few months of his residence in this "new world," as itappeared to immigrants from the "old land" of Prussia, Hoffmann spentin familiarising himself with the novelty and strangeness of the place,in wondering at and admiring the motley scenes which daily met hisview; and doubtless his acute perceptive faculties gleaned a valuableharvest of notes for use on future occasions, both for his pencil andhis pen. About the end of June he formed the acquaintance of J. E.Hitzig, who came down to Warsaw with the rank of _assessor_ in theadministrative college in which Hoffmann held that of councillor. Thecrust of formal courtesy and commonplaces was broken through byHitzig's pithy answer, to a question asking his opinion about somenewly-arrived colleague, that he was "a man in buckram." The borrowedwords of Falstaff banished Hoffmann's reserve, and caused his sombreface to light up with joy and his tongue to pour out a brilliant gushof talk. This new-made friend, who had previously (1800, 1801) lived inWarsaw, where he began his career, introduced Hoffmann into a pleasantand intellectual set of men, amongst whom was Zacharias Werner, authorof _Soehne des Thales_, _Das Kreuz an der Ostsee_,[13] &c. Hitzig hadspent the interval from 1801 in Berlin, where he had kept fully abreastof the newest productions in literature and art, whilst Hoffmann hadbeen living, partly a rude and riotous life, and partly a solitary andmonkish one, at Posen and Plock. Hence the one had plenty tocommunicate and the other great eagerness to listen, especially as thelittle he had begun to hear roused anew his slumbering better feelings,and whetted with a keen edge his native desire for self-improvementthrough art and literature.
In the following year, 1805, one of the Prussian administrativeofficials, an enthusiast in music, conceived the idea of establishing aclub or society for the purpose of amusement and mutual instruction inhis favourite art, and for the purpose also of training singers of bothsexes. Hoffmann's interest was enlisted in the scheme; and thingsproceeded at an energetic rate, the first concert being successfulbeyond expectation. With this encouragement the society was induced togo to work on a larger and more pretentious scale. The MiniszekiPalace, injured by fire, was bought for the seat of the new academy;and then Hoffmann threw himself into the plans of the society with allhis soul, working indefatigably in preparing architectural designs, andlater in decorating the halls and corridors. During all the mild daysof the spring of 1806 he was never to be met with at home. If not inthe government office, he was invariably to be found perched up on ahigh scaffolding in the new musical Ressource, painter's jacket on andsurrounded by a crowd of colour-pots, amongst which was sure to be abottle of Hungarian or Italian wine; there he painted and thence heconversed with his friends below. If, on occasion, parties requiringthe services of Councillor Hoffmann came to look for him at the newRessource, whither they had been directed from his own house, they weregreatly surprised to see him drop nimbly to the floor from before anelaborate wall-painting of ancient Egyptian gods, mixed up withcaricature figures and animal-like fragments of modems (his friendswith tails, wings, etc.), hastily wash his hands, trot along in frontof them to his place of business, and in a brief space of time turn outsome complicated legal instrument with which it would defy the sharpestcritic to find anything amiss.
So absorbed was he in this work, and in that of directing at theevening performances and composing music for them, that he hardly knewanything of the dark thunder-cloud of war that was gathering in theWest until the news of the fateful battle of Jena came; but upon thesemusic enthusiasts in Warsaw even this intelligence made no perceptibleimpression. Their concerts and practisings and meetings went onuninterruptedly just as before, until one fine day the advanced guardof the Russian army rode into the streets of the former Polish capital.Soon after the Russian general had taken up his quarters in Praga,close to Warsaw, there appeared on the other side of the town thepioneers of the great army of Napoleon. The Prussians and Russianswithdrew from the town. Milhaud arrived with the main body of Murat'sforces; in Napoleon's name the Prussian Government was dissolved, andits officials were superseded by native Poles. Hence Hoffmann was leftwithout employment. He and his colleagues divided the contents of thetreasury between them to prevent its falling into the hands of theFrench; this secured them from want for the present. Careless about thefuture, and revelling in the luxury of untrammelled freedom, Hoffmannwas now perfectly happy. The excitement was like rich wine to hisbrilliant fancy; he never had enough of it. He spent all the livelongday in running about seeing and hearing the many remarkable things tobe both seen and heard. And the little, restless, energetic man waslike quicksilver; he was everywhere. He specially loved to frequent thetheatres, where, before the curtain rose, conversations might be heardcarried on in ten or a dozen living tongues at once. Pushing his waythrough the motley throng, he penetrated to every part of the house,busy gathering all sorts of rich observations, and storing up a mostvaried assortment of experiences; and nothing escaped his falcon eye orremained unnoticed by his keen perception. Many and exquisite were thehumorous anecdotes he picked up, the gestures he copied, the tricks andeccentricities he caught, the extraordinary characters he understoodand fathomed at a glance; and these experiences he afterwards retailedto his friends, to their unbounded delight.
But amid all the tumult of the French occupation of the city, theevenings at the Musical Ressource still went on the same as ever.Hoffmann indeed, in order to escape the burdens of billeting as well asfrom motives of economy, took up his residence in one of the attics ofthe Ressource, where, though somewhat straitened for accommodation (forhe had his wife, a niece aged about twelve, and a little baby daughterwith him), he was as happy and contented as he well could be. He hadthe rich library of the Ressource at command, and his own piano stoodin one of its rooms; and "that was all he wanted to make him forget theFrench and the future." Early in 1807, he took advantage of afavourable opportunity and sent his wife and the two children to herfriends in Posen; Hitzig also, and his family, and most other friends,left Warsaw in March of that year: thus Hoffmann was left almost alone.Soon afterwards he was attacked by a grave nervous disorder, butsuccessfully nursed through it by the one or two friends who stillremained in the city. On recovering, he wished to go to Vienna, withthe view of
beginning an artistic career, and was only prevented fromcarrying out his design by want of money to defray the expenses of thejourney. He was in great distress, and even began to despond, untilfinally in the summer he contrived to get to Posen, and thence toBerlin, where he arrived some time in July.
In Berlin, however, his prospects did not improve. He failed to findemployment for his talents: nobody could be got to purchase hissketches or sit to him for a portrait; an attempt to interest Iffland,the actor and dramatist, in him failed; and no publisher could be foundfor his musical productions. Everything he was willing to do came tonothing. Then came other misfortunes. His ready-money, consisting ofsix _Louis d'or_, was stolen from him; news reached him of the death ofhis dearly-loved daughter Cecily when two years old, and of the illnessof his wife. He was on the point of despair, when it suddenly occurredto him to advertise for the post of musical director in a theatre. Thishad the desired effect of eventually securing him the post he wished,in the theatre at Bamberg which was conducted under the auspices ofCount von Soden; but the engagement was not to commence until October,1808. The intervening months were months of hard struggle for Hoffmann;he says he was almost in the extremities of want, and should havelacked the bare necessaries of life had he not succeeded in disposingof some minor productions in music and painting for a couple of _Louisd'or_ received in advance. In the summer of 1808, he at last fetchedhis wife from Posen, and then repaired to Bamberg (1st September).
To these years in Warsaw and Berlin belong three operas and other minormusical pieces (including music for Werner's tragedy _Das Kreuz an derOstsee_), several productions of his pencil and brush, but no literaryworks. Here at the end of what may be termed the first act in E. T. W.Hoffmann's chequered life we may pause a moment And the pause we mayturn to account by quoting a description of his personal appearance andsome peculiarities of habit.
"Hoffmann was very short of stature, of yellowish complexion; and hehad dark, almost black hair, growing down low upon his forehead, grayeyes which had nothing remarkable about them when they were at rest,but which assumed an uncommonly humorous and cunning expression when heblinked them, as he often did. His nose was thin and of the Roman type,and his mouth tightly closed.
"Notwithstanding his agility, his body seemed to be capable ofendurance, for in contrast with his size his breast was high and hisshoulders broad.
"During the earlier part of his life his dress was sufficientlyelegant, without falling into foppery. The only thing he set great andspecial store by was his whiskers, which he carefully cut so as to forma point against the corners of his mouth....
"What particularly struck the eye in his exterior was his extraordinaryvivacity of movement, which rose to the highest pitch when he beganto narrate anything. His manners at receiving and parting frompeople--repeated quick short bendings of the neck without moving thehead--had a good deal that appeared to partake of the nature ofcaricature, and might very readily have been taken for irony had notthe impression made by his singular gestures on such occasions beensoftened by his cordial warmth of manner.
"He spoke with incredible quickness and in a somewhat hoarse voice, sothat he was always very difficult to understand, especially during thelast years of his life, when he had lost some of his front teeth. Whenrelating he always spoke in quite short sentences; but when theconversation turned upon art matters and he got enthusiastic--againstwhich, however, he seemed to guard himself--he employed long andfinely rounded periods. If he were reading any of his own compositionsaloud--whether literary or official--he hurried over the unimportantparts at such a rate that his listeners had hard work to follow him;but those places which are called 'strong touches' in a picture heemphasised with almost comic pathos; he screwed up his mouth as heread, and looked round to see if his listeners caught the points, sothat he often upset both his own and their equilibrium. Owing to thishabit he was conscious that he did not read well, and was alwaysuncommonly pleased if anybody else would relieve him of the task; this,however, was a ticklish thing to do, especially in the case of MSS.copy, for every word read falsely or every hesitating glance upon aword to make sure what it was went like a knife to his heart, and thiseffect he could not conceal. As a singer he was a fine powerfultenor."[14]
To Bamberg Hoffmann went with high hopes of being able to realise thedreams of his life; but his fond expectations were doomed to thebitterest disappointment. His post he barely retained two months. Thetheatre circumstances were on an exact par with those described in_Wilhelm Meister_ (_videatur_ the name Melina, &c.). Hoffmann's styleof directing gave offence to the Bamberg public on the very firstevening; Count von Soden had placed the management of the theatre inthe hands of a certain Cuno, whose affairs were so embarrassed that henever, or only seldom, paid his officials, and finally became insolventin February, 1809. The disappointed director, embittered against thepublic by his failure to recommend himself to them, supported himselfand his wife by composing the incidental music for the various piecesgiven at the theatre, at a small monthly salary (of which he receivedbut little), and by giving music lessons in many of the best familiesof the town. But the war approaching that district of Germany causedmany of these families to leave the place; and Hoffmann began to be inembarrassed circumstances. Then he wrote an extremely droll letter toRochlitz, the editor of the _Musicalische Zeitung_ at Leipsic, wastaken on as a contributor, and continued to work for this magazine allthe time he was in Bamberg--producing mostly reviews and criticisms ofmusical works, and writing fugitive pieces of musical interest. He alsocomposed several pieces of music of various descriptions independentlyof those which he wrote for the theatre. Nor was his brush idle, for hereceived several commissions for large family pictures. Thus thingswent on until the summer of 1809, when a brighter cloud dawned upon himfor a time. One fine summer evening he made the acquaintance of Kunz, abookseller, publisher, and wine-dealer, at the pleasure-resort of Bug(close to Bamberg) in a characteristic manner. Kunz, an honest, jovial,good-natured giant, not lacking humour and gifted with a remarkabletalent for mimicry and imitation, became little Hoffmann's fastfriend--nay, his only real friend--during the whole of the time thelatter remained in Bamberg. They were almost inseparable, associatedin all amusements and diversions: they spent many long winter eveningstogether in pouring out their hearts and experiences to each other inmutual confidences, and many long summer evenings at the "Rose," whereaccording to German custom a throng of visitors gathered to spend thehours between closing business and going to bed. In July, 1810,Holbein, Hoffmann's Glogau friend, came to undertake the management ofthe Bamberg theatre. This, of course, could not fail to be of advantageto Hoffmann, who, though he did not resume his post of musicaldirector, yet received a permanent engagement to act in a multitude ofdepartments: he was musical composer, architect, scene-painter, partcomptroller of the financial arrangements, and director of therepertoire, &c. Under Holbein's management the theatre rose to aflourishing level; classic operas and good plays[15] were introducedwith success, to which the versatile talents of Hoffmann largelycontributed. In the evenings the choice spirits of Bamberg, mostly oftheatrical and artistic connection, used to assemble in the "Rose,"where Hoffmann was the soul of the party, his genius, wit, irony, anddrollery being inexhaustible. Whilst sending out flashes of sarcasticwit or gleams of exquisite humour, he would clench a droll or cleverdescription by quickly embodying his thoughts and words in impromptusketches, which were handed round to the company. Music and singing,often by the actors and actresses, also added to the entertainment ofthe evening. Mine host of the "Rose" saw his company increased by somescores of visitors when it was known that the inimitable sharp-eyedlittle music-director was going to be present; and he used to sendacross (Hoffmann lived the other side of the street only) during theday to inquire if he intended being there in the evening. But on thewhole, Hoffmann was more generally feared than loved, or evenrespected, by the main body of the townsfolk. His vanity was openlydisplayed; he must lead the conversation, and everybody else mus
t fallin with his humour and his whim, or they might expect some markedrudeness from his bitter tongue; and the fellow had a confoundedlysharp tongue, and no less sharp a pen and pencil. The most wonderfulthings were said about him in the town, and to those not intimate withhim or who did not know him personally, he was a man to be gazed atfrom a distance; it was hardly safe to seek his acquaintance, althoughhis talk was said to be something extraordinary, and his gestures andgrimaces irresistibly diverting, yet he could also launch stingingbarbs and on occasion utter insulting sarcasms. In fact the outsidepublic were wont to regard him as invested with a nimbus of wonder, oreven as a sort of daemonic being. Though these evenings were beyond allconception gay and festive, Hoffmann seldom drank to excess. Of coursehe drank a good deal: he had acquired the habit, as remarked, at Posen,but he was not a common drinker, who drinks for the drink's sake. Itwas the exhilaration it gave to his spirits and the fire it gave to hismind and brilliant parts that he found attractive in the habit.[16]Excursions were also made into the country, particularly to Bug; andhere, as at Warsaw, the restless "quicksilver" man was everywhere.
In March, 1811, he was fortunate to be introduced to Von Weber themusician, whose regard for his musical talents continued undiminisheduntil his death; and in the same month Hoffmann paid a visit to JeanPaul at Bayreuth, and had from him a fairly cordial reception. Towardsthe end of the year came the intelligence that his uncle Otto Doerfferof Koenigsberg had died, leaving him heir to his property. But the sumHoffmann received barely sufficed, if indeed it did suffice, to pay hisdebts. These had been accumulated first by Hoffmann's own want ofprudence--when he had money in his purse he spent it merrily without athought about the morrow--and secondly, by the frequent illness of hiswife, the simple, homely, unassuming, good-natured creature with whomhe always lived on happy terms in spite of his own unpardonablevagaries. Curiously enough, he used to labour under the odd delusionthat she was gifted with keen critical taste and was an intellectualwoman, though this was far from being the truth, according to theexpress evidence of his bosom-friend Kunz.
Amongst Hoffmann's pupils was a young girl of sixteen, Julia M----;this was his favourite pupil. For her he came to conceive anovermastering passion; but whether it was more of the imagination or ofthe heart it would appear difficult to decide with absolute certainty.He did not know himself; "he preferred to remain a riddle to himself, ariddle which he always dreaded to have solved;" and he demanded fromhis friend Kunz that he should look upon him as a "sacred inexplicablehieroglyph." The girl, who was pretty and amiable, of goodunderstanding, and of child-like deportment towards her music-master,never for a single moment dreamt of such a thing as his passion forher, and so of course she never consciously encouraged it in any way.She did not even show any signs of possessing a dreamy or poetictemperament, or seem to be inclined to sentimentality, so thatHoffmann's extraordinary infatuation can only be explained as a "fixedinsanity." At any rate, it powerfully affected his mind, and left anindelible trace upon him almost down to his dying day. The day on whichher betrothal to a stupid, weak-minded man, a man in all respectsunworthy of her, was celebrated at the pleasure-resort of Pommersfelden(four hours from Bamberg), was one which shook Hoffmann's storm-tossedsoul to its profoundest depths. He had hated himself for his weakness,and yet could not or would not manfully resolve to break through it.Now he was compelled to do so, and in a way that was galling to theutmost degree. Her marriage turned out an unhappy one; and eight yearslater, that is two years before his death, hearing she was in greattrouble, he sent many kind messages to her through a mutual friend.These relations are detailed with striking truth and fidelity in the_Nachricht von den neusten Schicksalen des Hundes Berganza_, publishedin the _Fantasiestuecke in Callot's Manier_ (1814-15). Perhaps, if wesufficiently compare the descriptions which he gives of variousheroines in his tales (all of which were written after this time),[17]and bear in mind the common characteristic running through them all,namely, that he puts them before us more as individual pictures than asdevelopments of character, giving us purely objective sketches ofthem after the manner of a painter--if we compare these descriptionswith what we know of Hoffmann's mind and character, his restless,brilliant imagination, and the taint of sensuousness that helped tomar its purity, his keen eye for beauty in form and colour, his strongtalent for seeing the things with which he came in contact throughan unmistakable veil of either love or hatred, we may perhaps hazardthe opinion, without risk of going far wrong, that it was hisimagination--the imagination that made up such a large part of theman--that was principally concerned in this remarkable passion; if hisheart was also touched, as it would undoubtedly appear to have been,the road to it must no less undoubtedly have been found through hisimagination.
Early in 1812 Hoffmann was invited to a banquet at the monastery of theCapuchins; and the visit made an extraordinary impression upon him. Allduring dinner he could not keep his eyes off a gray-haired old monkwith a fine antique head, genuine Italian face, strong-marked features,and long snow-white beard. On being introduced to Father Cyrillus heasked him innumerable questions about the secrets of monastic life,especially about those things of which "we profane have only dimguesses, no clear conceptions." They got into a poetic and exaltedframe of mind, and rose just as it was getting dusk to inspect thechapel and crypt, and other objects of interest. In the crypt Hoffmannwas powerfully agitated: he reverently doffed his hat, his wine-heatedface became terribly pale, and he visibly showed that he was held inthe thraldom of supernatural awe. When Father Cyrillus went on to pointout the spot where his own mortal remains should rest, and to indulgein certain pious exhortations to them (Hoffmann and Kunz) to shed atear upon his grave if they should come there again in after years,Hoffmann lost control of himself; he stood like a marble pillar, hisface and eyes set, his hair standing on end, unable to utter aword.[18] Then making a gesture upwards he hurried out of the cryptwith hasty uncertain steps. The impressions made upon him by thisvisit, and the observations he gathered, he employed in the _Elixieredes Teufels_ and _Kater Murr_ (pt. II.), the meeting between_Kapellmeister_ Kreisler and Father Hilarius, as well as thedescription of the monastery and its situation in the latter, beinginvested with a fine poetic flavour.
The scene in the crypt points to another side of Hoffmann's character,or rather personality, which hitherto has not been alluded to. In fact,it does not seem, as far as can be gathered from the biographicalsources, that it began to be strongly developed until the Bambergperiod. We have seen how that early in life he conceived a decidedantipathy to the prosaic and the commonplace, and his career up to thispoint furnishes abundant evidence that he hated with a genuine hatredto keep in the ruts of custom and conventionality, as if bound to do sobecause such was prescribed by custom and conventionality. Hissentiments he never concealed, and his actions harmonised, almost withoutexception, strictly with his sentiments; for one of his most striking andinstructive characteristics was the remarkable fearlessness which hedisplayed no less in his actual conduct than in his habits of thought.Affectation was far from him; thorough genuineness was stamped upon allhe did, showing unmistakably that it came direct from the man himself.In fact it might be said, with special significance, that his inner andhis outer life--the in other cases invisible life of the soul and thevisible life in action--were perfectly correlated, if not one andindivisibly the same. Being then thus honest with himself,[19] anddetesting as he did all that was commonplace and wearying, fiat and staleand dull, it is no wonder that he should tend to fall into the oppositeextreme, and should delight in the unusual, the singular, theextraordinary. Further, when we remember his fine imaginative powers,his inimitable humour, his vanity, his poetic cast of mind, his bitternessagainst the public for not appreciating his musical talents, and hisconsequent fits of fierce defiance and satiric gloom, there is still lesscause for wonder when we find this propensity for seeking the uncommonand the marvellous deepening and developing in time into an unconquerablepenchant for what was grotesque and eccentric, for wh
at was fantastic,unnatural, ghostly, and horrible. He loved to occupy his fancy most withthe extremes of human action, and to dive down into the most secret andunexplored recesses of human nature to bring back thence some wildstartling trait that scarce any other imagination save his own wouldhave discovered. If he ever studied human nature at all, it was alongthe border-lands of rationality; those misty shadowy states, suchas insanity, monomania, and hypochondriacal somnambulism, where thesoul hardly knows itself and loses touch of reality and almost ofself-consciousness. These and the like mysterious states of beingexercised a strange fascination upon his spirit. He was constantlypursued by the idea that some secret and dreadful calamity would happento him, and his mind was often haunted by images of awful form and by"doubles" of himself and others. He even believed he saw visions withhis own bodily eyes, and no expostulations of his friends could drivethis belief out of his head. Not only when he was engaged in writing,but even in the midst of an ordinary conversation, at supper, or whilstdrinking a social glass of wine or rum, he would suddenly exclaim, "Seethere--there--that ugly little pigmy--see what capers he cuts. Praydon't incommode yourself, my little man. You are at liberty to listento us as much as you please. Will you not approach nearer? You arewelcome." (Here, and occasionally, he would accompany his words withviolent muscular contortions of the face.) "Pray what will you take?Oh! don't go, my good little fellow." All this, or similar disconnectedphrases, he used to utter with his eyes fixed and riveted upon theplace where he affirmed he saw the vision; and if his word was doubtedor he was laughed at as a stupid foolish man, he would knit his browsand with great earnestness reiterate his assertions and appeal to hiswife to support him, saying, "I often see them, don't I, Mischa"(Misza, Mischa, short form for the Polish name Michaelina)?
This side of Hoffmann's individuality is not only one of the mostcharacteristic of him, it is necessary to grasp it in order tounderstand his written works. These remarks will also serve to makemore intelligible the sensation aroused in Hoffmann the evening he wasat the Capuchin monastery. It is in the _Elixiere des Teufels_ thatthese noteworthy traits find in most respects their fullest expression.
To return to the historical narrative. The story _Meister Martin_ andthe unfinished _Der Feind_ owe their origin to a visit which Hoffmannpaid to Erlangen and Nuremberg in March, 1812. In the same year he alsodevoted some attention to sport, and learned to use a sportsman'srifle; but his imagination was always swifter than his rifle-charge. A_sitting_ sparrow he did at length contrive to hit, but a flying one,or a hare, or even a deer, he never could succeed in knocking over,that is to say the real animals. Clods of earth and tufts of grasswhich his imagination conjured into game he could sometimes hit, but noliving animal would ever be likely to approach near him, for his quickrestless movements and mercurial gestures were a standing impediment toany game ever coming within shot of him unless actually driven closepast his "stand," and then his excitement either made him fire too soonor else miss. Nevertheless, he enjoyed these sporting excursions, inhis own eccentric fashion, immensely.[20]
During the summer Hoffmann took up his residence for four weeks in thepicturesque ruins of the castle of Altenburg, in the immediateneighbourhood of Bamberg, where, whilst living a hermit's life incompany with his spouse, he painted one of the towers with frescoesillustrative of incidents in the life of Count Adalbert von Babenberg,whose residence the castle had formerly been. But he also occupiedhimself with literary schemes; it was in this retreat that he wrotecertain sketches designed to form parts of a work which long occupiedhis mind, but which never came to anything, namely, the _Lichte Stundeneines wahnsinnigen Musikers_ (Rational Intervals of a Crack-brainedMusician). In this he purposed to develop his opinions on the theory ofmusic and the principles of harmony. The fragments were afterwardsrevised and appeared as the _Kreisleriana_ in the _Fantasiestuecke_.
In the next month, July, his star of adversity was again to be in theascendant. Holbein severed his connection with the theatre, andHoffmann lost his fixed income. Things grew darker and darker for him,until he was almost reduced to actual want; at any rate he came to bein very embarrassed circumstances. Singular to say, however, under allthis cloud of adversity he maintained a shining face and a light heartbehind it. This was peculiar to him; Rochlitz says "he belonged to thelarge class of men who can bear ill fortune better than good fortune."During this time of distress, which was a repetition of his dark daysin Berlin in 1807-8, he displayed a remarkable activity in his usualpursuits. His criticism of _Don Juan_, and exposition of the problem ofMozart's great opera, for which Hoffmann cherished a profound andalmost extravagant admiration, owes its origin to this period.[21] Ananecdote in relation to this will also illustrate his true passionateadmiration of art. Kunz lost a child, for which he grieved sadly; twodays afterwards Hoffmann advised him to go with him to see _Don Juan_at night, declaring it would assuage his grief and soothe and comforthis heart. Of course Kunz looked upon the idea as preposterous.Nevertheless Hoffmann would not be denied; he exerted all his arts ofpersuasion to induce his friend to go. At last Kunz did go; on the wayto the theatre Hoffmann discoursed of the opera in such a sensible,acute, and touching way, and so poetically and with especial referenceto his friend's loss, and afterwards in the theatre he expressed hissympathy in such kind and delicate lines, whilst tears of genuinefeeling stood in his eyes, that his friend was obliged to admit, "Thismusic of the spheres, which I had heard at least a dozen times before,exerted a greater power over me than all the dictates of reason or theconsolations of friends."
In February, 1813, the struggling ex-director received an altogetherunexpected letter from Joseph Seconda, offering him the post ofmusic-director to his opera company at Dresden; and on April 21,1813, Hoffmann's residence in Bamberg, which may be regarded as theturning-point in his life, came to an end. Four days later he arrivedat his destination without encountering any very serious adventure onthe road, although it swarmed most of the way with scouting Bashkirs,Cossacks, Prussian hussars, and Russian dragoons, and was thickly linedwith heavy guns and munition-waggons,--massing for the battle of Luetzen(May 2). On arriving at Dresden Hoffmann found quite unexpectedly hisfriend Hippel, and with him spent several right happy days. Then he wassummoned by Seconda to join him at Leipsic, for Seconda seems to havespent his time between this town and Dresden. But the journey waspostponed until May 20th, owing to the proximity of the contendingforces and the consequent unsettled state of the country. In theintervals several sharp skirmishes between the Russians and French tookplace in and close around Dresden. As might be expected, Hoffmann couldnot check his irrepressible desire to be in the thick of theexcitement; on May 9th he was standing close beside one of the towngates when a ball struck against a wall near him and in the rebound hithim on the shin; he quietly stooped down and picked up the flattened"coin," and preserved it as a memento, "being quite satisfied with thatone memento, unselfishly not asking for any more," as he wrote. Evenduring these troubled restless days he worked at the _Fantasiestuecke_.On the way to Leipsic happened a startling occurrence, which probablyserved as the prototype for the catastrophe at the end of _Das Majorat_(The Entail). The coach was upset and a newly married Countess wastaken up dead; Hoffmann's own wife also received a severe wound on thehead. Seconda's troupe only remained in Leipsic a few weeks longer;permission was given him to play in the Court theatre at Dresden; henceon 24th June we find Hoffmann on his way back to Dresden, and derivingin his characteristic fashion much amusement from a waggon heavilyladen with theatrical appurtenances, living and non-living, somethingin the style of the carriage scene in _Die Fermate_.
The return, however, was a return into the very hottest scene of thestruggle between the Allies and Napoleon. On August 26th and 27th thefight raged furiously around the walls of Dresden; the quarter in whichHoffmann was living was shelled; the people in the house "bivouaced"under the stone stairs, trembling with fear and anxiety. Hoffmann,however, could not bear to hide away, so he slipped out by a back doorand went to jo
in one of his theatrical friends. Looking out of hiswindow they watched the damage done by the shells, and saw one burst inthe market-place below, crushing a soldier's head, tearing open thebody of a passing citizen, and seriously wounding three other peoplenot far away. Keller the actor, in his start of apprehension, let hisglass fall out of his hand; "I," says Hoffmann, "drank mine empty andcried, 'What is life? Not able to bear a little bit of hot iron? Poorweak human nature! God give me calmness and courage in the midst ofdanger! We can get over it all better so.'" Then he returned to theanxious party under the steps, taking them wine and rum--the latter wasHoffmann's favourite drink. His presence brought the unfailing goodspirits and humour which hardly ever deserted him, even under thedarkest cloud of adversity. On the 29th he visited the battle-field andsaw its cruel sights and its horrors. But other horrors were in storefor the inhabitants of the city; for the next few weeks Dresden wasbesieged, and her citizens suffered from famine and pestilence and allthe other usual terrible concomitants of a siege.
Hoffmann's literary activity through all these weeks of turmoil wassomething astonishing. Whilst the thunders of cannon were making "theground to tremble and the windows to shake," and the shells werebursting around him and the sharp crack and dull ping of bullets wereincessantly striking upon his ear, this extraordinary man satunconcerned amidst it all, absorbed in literary or musical composition,either writing his _Goldener Topf_ (or _Der Dichter und der Componist_or _Der Magnetiseur_) or working out his opera _Undine_, which wasbegun in Bamberg in 1812. Even when suffering from the dysentery whichraged in the place, his intellectual activity went on without beingimpaired. In a letter to Kunz of date Sept 8th of this year he writes,"I am, as you will observe, unwearied in cultivating the fine arts, andif to-morrow or the day after I am not blown into the air by a Prussianor Russian or Austrian shell, you will find me fat and well-favouredfrom art enjoyments of every sort."
It was through Kunz's intervention that the Introduction prefixed tothe _Fantasiestuecke_ was obtained from Jean Paul, and that againstHoffmann's own wish, for all introductions except those which stand as_prolegomena_ before a scientific work he hated--when a well-knownwriter prefixed an introduction before the work of an unknown as a sortof attestation, it seemed to him like "an incendiary letter which theyoung author takes into his hand in order to go and beg for applausewith it." Another short passage from one of his letters to Kunz of thissame summer may here be quoted as illustrating a trait in hischaracter:--
"So far about business; and now the earnest request that you will keepin mind and constantly before your eyes who and what I am, and letour business even be inspired with that spirit of cheerfulness andgood-humour which always marked our intercourse with each other, andeven in money matters prevented the dead, stiff, frosty mercantilestyle from coming to the surface. I am sure it was quite foreign toboth of us, and could only excite in us such fear as we feel when setupon by an angry 'wauwau,' at which afterwards we can only laugh toeach other."
This unwillingness, nay almost repugnance to look at things from theirserious side, was quite characteristic of him. "But these are _odiosa_"was a frequent phrase in his mouth.
On 9th December Seconda and his opera company once more repaired toLeipsic, and Hoffmann of course along with them. There on New Year'sDay he was struck down by a severe attack of inflammation in the chest,aggravated by gout, in consequence of a violent cold caught inthe theatre; the case was so severe and grave that his life was attimes in danger. "Podagrists are generally visited by an especialhumour--brilliant fancies; this comforts me; I experience the truth ofit, since often when I feel the sharpest pangs I write _con amore_," hestates in a letter to Kunz (24th March). And during his illness one ofhis friends "found him in one of the meanest rooms in one of themeanest inns, sitting on a wretched bed, but ill protected against thecold, and with his feet drawn up by gout." A board was lying in frontof him, and he appeared to be busy doing something upon it. "Godbless me!" exclaimed his friend, "whatever are you doing?" "Makingcaricatures," replied Hoffmann laughing--"caricatures of the cursedFrenchman; I am inventing them, drawing them, and colouring them." Healso wrote about this time the _Vision auf dem Schlachtfelde beiDresden_ and other pieces, and finished his _Undine_; further, whilstin this distressing condition, he began the _Elixiere des Teufels_, thefirst volume of which was completed in less than a month. This work heintended to be an illustration, or illustrative exposition of his ownnotions, of "a man who even at his birth was an object of contentionbetween the powers divine and demoniacal, and his tortuous wonderfullife was intended to exhibit in a clear and distinct light those secretand mysterious combinations between the human spirit and all thoseHigher Principles which are concealed in all Nature, and only flash outnow and again--and these flashes we call chance." That he succeeded inhis purpose cannot be maintained. His own individuality was too strongfor him: he failed to handle his subject from a sufficientlyindependent standpoint. He was not the artist creating a work thatwas quite outside himself; he was rather the silk-worm spinning hisentangling threads round about himself. The book can scarcely beread without shuddering; the dark maze of humane motion and humanweakness--a mingling of poetry, sentimentality, rollicking humour, wildremorse, stern gloom, blind delusion, dark insanity, over all which isthrown a veil steeped in the fantastic and the horrible--all thisdetracts from the artistic merits of the work, but invests it with acorresponding proportion of interest as a revealer of some of thedeepest secrets and hidden phases of the human soul, if one only hasthe courage to wade through it. The dreamy mystifications and the wildinsanity and mystic passion of Brother Medardus are not unrelieved byscenes and characters which bear the stamp of bright poetic beautyand rich comic humour (_e.g._, the character of the Abbess of theCistercian convent, the _jaeger_, the description of the monastery, thescenes with Mr. Ewson and Belcampo _alias_ Schoenfeld).
For some reason which cannot be quite made out for certain, either inconsequence of his continued illness or because of a quarrel withSeconda, Hoffmann found himself once more adrift in the world withoutan anchor to hold fast by in February, 1814. In striking contrast withhis treatment by the Bamberg public, his talents as director whilstwith Seconda's company were fully and adequately appreciated, both bythe artistes and the orchestra, as well as by the general public. Thismay have been due to two causes; first, the actors and actresses werenot embarrassed by his directing from the pianoforte instead of withthe violin as those in Bamberg were, and in the second place hiscriticisms and essays on musical subjects in Rochlitz's _MusicalischeZeitung_ had gained him a certain reputation as an authority in musicalmatters. After having refused the offer of a post as music-director inhis native city of Koenigsberg in February (1814), he was agreeablysurprised by Hippel's promise to secure his return into official life.Accordingly towards the end of September in that same year he set outfor Berlin.
Here ends what may be termed the second act of this very unsettled,eventful life. That this wandering aside from the career he firststarted upon--viz., that of law and public life to tread the thornyprecarious path of art was fraught with greater consequences than canbe estimated upon the unfortunate man's character, will be evident fromwhat has been already stated. These dark years were those mainlyinstrumental in stifling the good germs that had once been in him, andyet more did they result in encouraging and bringing out prominentlyall his less praiseworthy qualities. As his works and his life are sointimately interwoven, and as his works were nearly all writtensubsequent to this disastrous period, it seemed desirable to dwellsomewhat upon the events and circumstances of the earlier part of hislife. With the view of showing that Hoffmann himself fully understoodthe nature and tendency of his existence in Bamberg, the followingpassages are quoted from a letter written to Dr. Speyer in that town inJuly, 1813:--
"I felt in my own mind perfectly convinced that I must get out ofBamberg as soon as possible if I was not to be ruined altogether. Callvividly to mind what my life in Bamberg was from the first moment of myar
rival, and you will allow that everything co-operated like an hostiledemoniacal power to thrust me forcibly from the path I had chosen, orrather from art, to which I had devoted my entire existence, my veryself with all my activities and energies. My position under Cuno, andeven all those unbargained-for duties which were thrown upon me byHolbein, notwithstanding their many seductive attractions, but aboveall those scenes with----which I shall never forget and never overcome,the old man's miserable stupid platitudes, which yet in another respecthad a pernicious influence, those wretched, terrible scenes with----andlast of all with----, whom I always thought a parvenu ill-bred imp,--ina word, everything that went against all effort and doing and work inthe higher life, in which a man raises himself on alert wing above thestinking morass of his miserable crust-begging life, engendered withinme an inward dissension--an inward strife, which much sooner than anyexternal commotion around me would have caused me to perish. Everyharsh and undeserved indignity I had to suffer only increased my secretrancour, and whilst accustoming myself more and more to wine as astimulant and so stirring up the fire to make it bum more merrily, Iheeded not that this was the only way by which good could come out ofthe ruinous evil. In these few words, in this brief statement, I hopeyou will find the key to many things which may have appeared to youcontradictory, if not enigmatical But _transeant cum ceteris._"[22]
Again, it can scarcely be doubted that we have a description of his ownstate when he writes in the _Elixiere_ (Part II.), "I am what I appearto be, and do not appear as what I really am; to myself an unsolvableriddle, I am at variance with my own self."
The change of residence to Berlin did little to improve Hoffmann'scircumstances. During the first ten months he was, according to theconditions imposed, labouring to make himself acquainted with thechanges that had taken place in legal procedure, and to fit himself forentering the service of the state again and resuming his interruptedcareer; but he received no compensation for his pains; he had tosupport himself as best he could by the fruits of his pen. On July 1,1815, he was appointed to a clerkship in the department of the Ministerof Justice, which post he exchanged on 1st May, 1816, for that ofCouncillor in the Supreme Court, being also restored to all his rightsof seniority as though no break had ever taken place in his officialcareer. The duties attaching to this office he continued to dischargewith his accustomed diligence and skill until promoted in the autumn of1821 to be a member of the Senate of Higher Appeal in the same court.Notwithstanding his sad and disappointing experiences, and thetempestuous times of his "martyr years" at Bamberg, he was not yetdisgusted with the life of an artist. His hopes were not yet alienatedfrom the calling that hovered before his mind as an ideal for so manyyears. Whilst battling, with somewhat less of reckless high spirits andhumour, against the embarrassments and pecuniary difficulties which hehad to encounter during these ten months, he was also dreaming of anappointment as _Kapellmeister_ (orchestral director) or as musicalcomposer to a theatre. He says upon this point in a letter to Hippel,of date March 12, 1815, "I cannot anyhow cease to interest myself inart; and had I not to care for a dearly beloved wife, and were it notmy duty to try and procure her a comfortable life after what she hasgone through with me, I would rather become a music schoolmaster againthan let myself be stamped in the juristic fulling-mill."[23] Aftermore than one disappointment in his efforts to secure permanent andremunerative employment, in which efforts he was assisted by hisinfluential friend Hippel, he became a clerk, as already stated, in thedepartment of the Minister of Justice.
In his social relations Hoffmann was more fortunate. He now enjoyed theclose companionship of Hitzig again, and through Hitzig was introducedinto a select circle which counted amongst its members such men asFouque (author of _Undine_), Chamisso (of _Peter Schlemihl_ fame),Contessa, Koreff, Tieck, Bernhardi, Devrient, and others. The harassingtumultuous days he had passed through during the last eight years hadnow begun to make him gentler and more modest; his character was moretempered, and his behaviour more subdued. His good-nature too took sucha prominent place in the qualities he displayed that Hitzig's childrenwere quite delighted with their father's newly arrived friend; for themHoffmann wrote the pleasant little fairy tale _Nussknacker undMaeusekoenig_ (Nutcracker and the King of the Mice). Before the end of1815 he had finished the second part of the _Elixiere des Teufels_, towhich he himself attached no value, since its connection with the firstpart was broken; its author's ideas had got into another track;feelings and circumstances were changed. Still less than Schiller with_Don Carlos_. did Hoffmann succeed in making an artificial junctionbetween the two parts of his work atone for its breach of artisticunity; he even said later of the first part, "I ought not to have hadit printed." Besides this second part of the _Elixiere_, he also wrotethe concluding pieces of the _Fantasiestuecke_, namely, _Die Abenteuerder Sylvesternacht_, which owes its existence to Chamisso's _PeterSchlemihl_ and to Chamisso himself, who is portrayed in the work; andalso _Die Correspondenz des Kapellmeisters Kreisler mit dem BaronWallborn_, that is Hoffmann himself and Baron von Fouque. With thelatter Hoffmann spent a happy fortnight in 1815 at his seat ofNennhausen near Rathenow; Hitzig was also of the party. In August ofthe following year the opera _Undine_ was put upon the stage. ThoughFouque's libretto did not pass without some adverse criticism, allvoices were unanimous in praise of the music. Von Weber the musicianespecially expressed himself warmly in admiration of it, affirming thatit was "one of the most talented productions of recent times;" and heespecially singled out for attention its truth, its smooth-flowingmelodies, and its instrumentation; it was "in truth _one_ gush" ofmusic. The opera was repeated more than a score of times, whenunfortunately the theatre was burnt down, and Hoffmann, who livedimmediately adjoining it, was almost burnt out of house and home atthe same time.
Through the success of this opera as well as through that of his_Fantasiestuecke_, Hoffmann found himself celebrated. He was invited asthe hero of the evening to the fashionable tea circles of Berlin, whereignorant or half-educated _dilettanti_ affected an interest in artmatters, that was over-strained and wanting in sincerity when it wasnot ridiculous. For what was there the man could not do? He wrote booksabout which all Germany was talking, he could improvise on thepianoforte, compose operas, sketch caricatures, and streams of witgushed from him so soon as he opened his mouth. The homage showeredupon him at these gatherings flattered Hoffmann's vanity for a time,but he soon saw the motives for which he was asked to be present--toamuse the guests with his wit, to accompany the daughter or lady of thehouse on the piano, to discuss art matters in a becoming way now withan old grandmother, now with a grave professor, to tell divertinganecdotes, to tickle the lazy minds of those who listened with somespicy satire upon their enemies--in fact to be made a useful show of.Quickly fathoming these motives, Hoffmann proved himself readily equalto the occasion: as soon as he began to get bored, which veryfrequently was the case, he made the most hideous grimaces, and when hesaw the company were preparing to draw something from him by way ofcriticism which they could carry further and perhaps repeat again asspringing from their own acute judgment, he began to talk the mostarrant nonsense he could think of, or to fire off some of his stingingsarcasms steeped in the bitterness of gall, till there were none butblank and embarrassed faces around him--everybody thinking the man wasmad; but he went away delighted at the consternation he had beeninstrumental in causing. The givers of fashionable teas soon ceased toinvite Hoffmann to their entertainments, but they had alreadysufficiently sown the seeds of fresh mischief in him.
To have more money in his pockets than he just required for theimmediate wants of the moment was always fatal to him, and no less sowas the excitement attendant upon the giddy whirl of pleasure andsocial popularity, or what stood for such. These were rocks of dangerupon which he always struck. The former led him to indulge in hisreprehensible habit of drinking, and the latter soon made him upset allthe systems of order and regulation. Day he turned into night and nightinto day. He shunned for the most part the society of
Hitzig and hiscircle of friends, with their stimulating discussions that cultivatedthe mind whilst unfolding and developing the feelings, and frequented alow wine-shop and the common coarse company that was to be met withthere. Hence during nearly all the rest of his life, that is, from 1816to 1821, he spent his mornings in the discharge of his official dutiesat the Supreme Court (two mornings a week, Monday and Thursday), or inwriting; the afternoons he generally slept, or in summer took a walk;and the evenings and nights always found him in the wine-shop of hischoice; and he never liked to leave it until morning came, nor did anyother engagements prevent him from putting in an appearance at hishabitual haunt, even though it were past midnight before he were free.As already remarked, however, it was not to sit and drink like a sotthat he gave way to this degrading habit, but to get himself "exalted"as he called it, and then when he was duly "exalted" came the fireworkdisplay of wit and glowing fancy, going on hour after hour without restor interruption for the space of five or six hours at once. If histongue was not the medium through which he discharged the creations ofhis teeming imagination, his eagle eye was spying out all that wasridiculous or strikingly extraordinary, or even what was possessed of atouch of pathos or deep feeling, or he employed his hand in sketchingand drawing inimitable caricatures. He never sat idle and silent, anddrank steadily and stolidly as so many confirmed drinkers do. Hitzig,who was deeply grieved at this downward course of his friend and at theestrangement it had brought about between them, contrived to draw himaway from his demoralising companions of the wine-shop for at least onenight a week. On that evening there was a small gathering at Hoffmann'shouse, moderation being strictly enjoined as one of the chiefregulations of the meeting. This small circle, which consisted ofHoffmann, Hitzig, Contessa, and Koreff,[24] and an occasional friend ortwo whom one of them introduced, called itself "The Serapion Brethren,"this title being adopted from the fact that the first meeting was heldon the night of the anniversary of that saint, according to FrauHoffmann's Polish almanac. It is interesting to remark that amongstthese occasional guests figures the great Danish poet Oehlenschlaeger inthe year 1816. In a letter written to Hoffmann on March 26th, 1821,recommending a young fellow-countryman to him, Oehlenschlaeger says,"Dip him also a little in the magic sea of your humour, respectedfriend, and teach him how a man can be a philosopher and seer of theworld under the ironical mantle of the mad-house, and what is more anamiable man as well;" and he subscribes himself, "A. Oehlenschlaeger,Serapion Brother."
In 1817 was published the collection of tales called _Die Nachtstuecke_,embracing _Der Sandmann_ (The Sand-man) and _Das Majorat_ (The Entail),which reproduce personages and experiences belonging to the years inKoenigsberg; _Die Jesuitenkirche_ and _Das steinerne Herz_, going backto his life in Glogau; _Das Geluebde_, built upon a story related by hiswife as connected with her native town of Posen; _Das Sanctus_, which wassuggested by an incident in Berlin soon after Hoffmann's arrival there;and _das oede Haus_, this last due to the way in which he wasincessantly haunted by the appearance of a closed house in the _Unterden Linden_. These were mostly written in 1816 and 1817; and to them headded _Ignas Denner_, which possesses some merit, but is of too gloomyand darkly unpleasant a cast to be attractive to English readers; itwas written during the first days in Dresden, just after hisemancipation from the Bamberg thraldom. Whilst in it he gives free reinto sombre melancholy, and dips his pen in "midnight blackness," in_Berganza_, written about the same time, he has poured out the cynicalbitterness and scathing scorn which was then undoubtedly gnawing at hisheart. _Der Sandmann_, though embodying reminiscences of its author'syouth, also contains material derived from an incident which took placeduring a visit of Hoffmann's to Fouque's country-seat near Ratenow, andNathanael was recognised by Fouque as meant for himself. _Das Majorat_is, as already stated, a lasting memorial to his old great-uncle,Voethoery; the moral backbone of the story--the evil destiny attaching tothe successors of a man whose ambition aimed at founding a powerfulfamily by an act of injustice to his youngest son--reminds thereader forcibly of the purpose that runs through Hawthorne's _Housewith the Seven Gables_. Of the in many respects admirable story _DasGeluebde_--it is to be regretted that it is marred by the dangerousnature of the subject;[25] it is else poetically treated and investedwith a spirit of weird mysticism that would have made it rank higherthan what it does. The others in the collection are of lesser merit.
The next year 1818 saw no important work from Hoffmann's pen; but in1819 appeared _Die seltsame Leiden eines Theaterdirekters_, a bookwritten in the form of a dialogue, which was due to the example of hisfavourite, Diderot's "Rameau's Nephew" (by Goethe), and which conveys atolerably faithful account of Hoffmann's experiences in the capacityindicated whilst in the town on the Regnitz, and indeed is useful asillustrating the condition of the German stage generally at thatperiod. This was followed by a kind of fairy tale, _Klein Zachesgenannt Zinnober_; as this book was generally believed to be a localsatire upon persons and circumstances well known, it entailed manysevere strictures and much unpleasantness upon its writer. The truthabout it seems to be this: the idea--that of a sort of ugly kobold ofthe Handy Andy type--was suggested by a sudden fancy during an attackof fever, and in a moment of semi-delirium. On recovering his healthagain, Hoffmann set to work in his impetuous and hasty way, and workedout the idea in probably less than a fortnight. Similarly his _MeisterFloh_, one of the last and weakest caricatures he wrote, was likely tohave entailed disagreeable consequences upon him, had not his lastillness come before any authoritative steps could be taken. For he hadmade use of incidents which came to his knowledge in the officialdischarge of his duties, and which were of such a character that theyought to have been guarded as inviolable secrets; and he furtheremployed certain phrases which he took from confidential papers thatlikewise came into his hands in consequence of his public position. Inextenuation of his fault, or perhaps in explanation of it, be itremarked that his conduct does not appear to have been actuated bypremeditated or deliberate malice, but to have sprung solely from hisrecklessness and want of prudence: the ridiculous appealed to his senseof humour so irresistibly that nothing was sacred against it, and sonothing was safe from it.
In the summer of 1819 Hoffmann was ordered by his physician to visitthe Silesian baths; and he derived excellent benefit from theprescription, coming home stronger and in a more healthful frame ofmind than his friends had seen him for a long time. Soon after hisreturn he was appointed on the commission selected to inquire intothose secret societies and other suspicious political organisationswhich were particularly active about this time (_Burschenschaften_,_Landsmannschaften_ in their political aspect). Towards the end of theyear he published the first two volumes of the _Serapionsbrueder_, thethird volume following in 1820 and the fourth in 1821. These volumescontain all his tales that had appeared in various magazines and serialpublications, together with others now first published, and are linkedtogether by a running commentary, or rather they are set into it asinto a framework; the Serapion Society are represented as meeting atstated intervals, when one or more of the members relate a tale. Thediscussions which precede and follow the tales are full of sage remarksabout art and art-matters and other ripe practical wisdom, and containperhaps more matured thought than anything else that proceeded fromHoffmann's pen. Of these numerous stories the best have been selectedfor translation in these two volumes, namely, _Der Artushof_ (Arthur'sHall), _Die Fermate_ (The Fermata), _Doge und Dogaresse_ (Doge andDogess), _Meister Martin der Kuefner und seine Gesellen_ (Master Martinthe Cooper and his Journey men ), _Das Fraeulein von Scuderi_(Mademoiselle de Scuderi), _Spieler Glueck_ (Gambler's Luck), and_Signor Formica_. The remaining twelve tales call for no specialmention, except perhaps _Nussknacker_, which has been already alludedto, _Das fremde Kind_, a curious mixture of reality and fairyland, and_Der Zusammenhang der Dinge_, which is not devoid of interest. Severalof the things in this collection suggest comparison with Poe's writingsfor weirdness and bizarre imaginative power, though of course there a
rewide differences between the styles of the two writers.
In March, 1820, came a letter of good wishes from Beethoven, whosemusic Hoffmann greatly admired; hence the letter was a source of muchreal pleasure to him. Spontini, the well-known writer of operas, cameto Berlin in the summer of the same year and was received by Hoffmannwith every mark of respect. It was indeed maintained that the composerof _Undine_ showed an unworthy servility in the way in which hepublicly acknowledged Spontini's talent. Whether this is true wouldappear doubtful; servility was not one of the author's failings, thoughvanity was. By Spontini's ministering to his vanity Hoffmann may havebeen provoked to return him the compliment in his own coin, but it ishardly likely that he went so far as to flatter against his ownconviction or against his better judgment. Of his longer and moreambitious works the one which he ranked highest in merit was_Lebensansichten des Katers Murr, nebst Biographie des KapellmeistersJohannes Kreisler_, the first volume of which appeared in 1820 and thesecond in 1822. In respect of literary form and execution, as well asof artistic worth, this is undoubtedly Hoffmann's most finishedproduction (_i.e._ of his longer works). It contains a good deal ofgenial, keen, and subtle satire, conveyed in the doings of Murr thetom-cat; and it is also a useful source for early biographical details,both of facts and of mental development and opinions, contained in the"waste-paper leaves" (treating of Kreisler), inserted at frequentintervals between those which carry on the life and adventures of Murr.The third volume, which was all ready and completed in the author'shead, and only wanted writing down, never came to the birth. The firsttwo volumes present to us a personification of Hoffmann's humoristicself, and the third was to culminate in Kreisler's insanity, a resultbrought about by the disappointments and baffling experiences heencountered in life--Hoffmann's own career, that is; and the whole wasto conclude with the _Lichte Stunden eines wahnsinnigen Musikers_,--awork which had been occupying his mind ever since he was in Bamberg,and which had not yet been executed. In 1821 was published one of hisweakest things, a fairy tale, _Prinzessin Brambilla_, which is greatlywanting in clearness of conception, though he himself ranked it highly.
The excesses in which Hoffmann had for so long indulged brought atlast, as may easily be conceived, their own inevitable retribution. Thefirst herald of the approaching physical troubles was the death(November 30, 1821) of the sagacious cat who was the real hero of_Kater Murr_. Hoffmann was much cut up by the death of his favourite,which he described to Hitzig with truly touching pathos.[26] Soon afterthis he was suddenly stricken down by disease--_tabes dorsalis_; hisbody gradually died, beginning at the feet and moving up to the brain,a process which lasted several weeks. But from the autumn of 1821 toApril, 1822, he was cheered by the daily visits of the beloved friendof his youth, Hippel, who had come up to Berlin for that space of time.Hoffmann celebrated his 46th birthday with this true friend, and withHitzig and others less dear. Hoffmann and Hippel were dwelling fondlyupon the days of their youth and reviving old recollections, whenmention was made of death and dying. Hitzig remarked in substance that"life was not the highest of all goods;" this caused the sufferingHoffmann to reply with passionate emphasis, such as he did not give wayto on any other occasion during the course of the evening, "No, no--letme live, live--let me only live, no matter in what condition." "Therewas something awful," says Hitzig, "in the way in which these wordsburst from his lips." And his wish was fulfilled in terrible wise; onelimb after the other failed to perform its office; his feet and handsand certain parts of his inner organism became quite dead. On the daybefore he died he was virtually a corpse as far as his neck; and so hewas full of hope that he should soon be well again, since he "felt nomore pain then." Even in this truly pitiable and helpless condition hisimagination continued to pour forth a stream of the most whimsical andhumorous fancies, and his cheerfulness was even greater than in thedays of sound health. Hippel's departure in April was a hard blow tohim. About four weeks before his death he underwent the sharp operationof being burned on each side of the spine with red-hot irons. WhenHitzig entered the room after the terrible operation was over, Hoffmanncried, "Can you smell the flavour of roast meat?" and he said thatwhilst the doctors were burning him, the thought entered his mind thatthe "Minister of Police was having him leaded lest he should slip outas contraband;"--he was shrivelled up to a mummy almost, so that, owingto his small size as well, a woman could carry him in her arms. Thoughhis body was thus a perfect wreck, his mental powers were as brilliantand keen as ever; and when his hands proved useless to him, he engagedthe services of an amanuensis and went on dictating until almost thevery hour of his death. In fact, the last thing he spoke about was adirection for his writer to read to him the passages where he hadbroken off in _Der Feind_; then he turned his face to the wall; thefatal rattle was heard in his throat; and all Hoffmann's earthlytroubles were over (June 25, 1822).
It is very remarkable that the works dictated by this extraordinary manon his deathbed show an almost total departure from the style of mostof his previous tales. He no longer records his own experiences,--theevents and occurrences, the sentiments and thoughts, that werepeculiarly his own,--but he writes from a purely objective standpoint,and _creates_. Of most of his other works it may be said that they are_he_; but of these it can only be said they are _his_ in the sense thatthey owed their origin to him. _Meister Johannes Wacht_, one of these,is translated in Vol. II. The scene is laid in Bamberg, and thecharacters of the story were also said to be faithful portraits ofactual people in Bamberg; yet we look in vain to find anything likeHoffmann himself in it. _Des Vetters Eckfenster_, though hardly a tale,is yet one of the best things Hoffmann has written. Those who knowEmile Souvestre's _Un Philosophe sous les Toits_ would find in thisthing of Hoffmann's dying days something to their taste; it is arunning commentary on personages seen in the market from the writer'sown window, and each little scene brings before us a true and lifelikecharacter in a few weighty and well-chosen words. _Die Genesung_, amere sketch, arose out of the dying man's pathetic longing to see thegreen of the woods and the meadows. _Der Feind_, a fragment full ofpromise, is a tale of old Nuremberg of the days of Albrecht Duerer, whofigures in it. Before being deprived of the use of his hands he hadwritten several other short tales, amongst which may be mentioned _DieDoppeltgaenger_, as being a favourite theme with Hoffmann, and _DerElementargeist_, a weird, entrancing story. In _Die Raeuber_ he gives usa weak version of Schiller's celebrated work.
In Hoffmann we have an instance of a man who nearly all his life longfailed to get himself placed amid the circumstances in the midst ofwhich it was his one burning wish to be placed. He never found hisright calling. He is a man ruined by circumstances (_zerfahren_). Hewas not wanting in warm natural feeling, as is proved by his close andfaithful friendships with Hippel, Hitzig, and Kunz; and more than oneinstance of spontaneous kindness and of winning amiability arepreserved by his biographer.[27] In youth his mind and heart were fullof noble thoughts and aspirations, and he was sincerely desirous toeducate himself up to better things. We see it in "May it never happento me that my heart is not readily receptive of every communicationfrom without, as well as for every feeling within, for the head mustnever injure the heart, nor must the heart ever run away with the head,that is my idea of culture," and "an excitable heart and a restlessnature will never let us be quite happy, but will have a beneficialinfluence upon our education, upon our striving after greaterperfection." His poetic temperament, and such like poetic tendencies,found no responsive sympathy amongst his relatives. Being thrust backupon himself and then having his feelings centred, when at length theydid meet with sympathetic appreciation, in such a way as could onlybring disappointment and unhappiness, he was early made a fitinstrument for circumstances to play upon, and sorely was he buffetedby them through all the years from going to Posen right down until theday of his death. But this result must also be traced partly to thewant of a parent's loving, watchful eye. In those years which are themost important for moulding a boy's character he was practically
leftto go his own way. True, his uncle Otto held him down to habits ofindustry and order; but he did nothing to encourage the boy's betterand higher nature, or guide it sympathetically along the paths where itwas striving to find its own way. Hoffmann had no high idea of themoral dignity of man, and at times even seemed to have but littleconception of it. The relations upon which he lived with his uncle Ottoand the history of his own father prevented this sense of moral worthfrom being planted in his mind. The germ which bore fruit in his lovefor extremes, for what was extraordinary and quite out of the commonbeaten track of life, was probably engendered in the following way. Notfinding the sympathy he needed in his efforts after a better life, heturned in upon himself and began to despise the petty details ofeveryday existence; and several passages in his letters clearly go toshow that his unhappiness and discontent were largely due to the factof his overlooking the real enjoyment to be derived from the smalloccurrences and events of every day, which rightly viewed are capableof affording such a large fund of real contentment. In a letter toHippel early in 1815, he himself states, "For my shattered life I havereally only myself to blame; I ought to have shown more resolution andless levity in my earlier years. When a youth, when a boy, I ought tohave devoted myself entirely to Art and never to have thought of anythingelse. But of course something also was due to perverse education." Itmust not be supposed, however, from the above that he was deficient infirmness or strength of will. The perseverance with which he workedthrough his early examinations, as well as the energy and zeal he broughtto bear upon his official duties, contradict such supposition. Specificinstances might also be quoted did space permit; it will be enough torecall his resolve never to gamble. It is stated that he avowed hisintention to amend his ways if he recovered from his last fatalillness. The real key to his wayward character lies in the fact justalluded to, that he had no conception of the supreme importance ofmoral worth. This was the backbone wanting in his character; and forthis reason we fail to detect any steady sterling course of actionthrough all the vicissitudes of his life. If he had a ruling motive itwas capricious humour; at any rate it swayed him more than anythingelse. On one day he would laugh at what had annoyed him on the daypreceding, or be delighted to-day at what he had greeted yesterday withirony. Nobody knew better than himself how he was tyrannised over byhis changeable moods. "My capricious humour (_Laune_) is the firstweather-prophet I know, and if I had the good-will and were bored Icould make an almanac," is one of his expressions; and another runs,"You know that my capricious humour is often _Maitre de Flaisir_."Besides being thus the creature of caprice, he was also impulsive,impetuous, and wont to act with impassioned haste. These qualities wererevealed in his restless vivacious eyes, in his movements and gestures,and even broke out in extraordinary grimaces, as already remarked. Andjust in the same fervid eager way he often seized upon an idea or apleasing fancy, till it took complete possession of him; he could notrid himself of it. With this was combined his remarkable quickness ofperception and comprehension; a single gesture or phrase was oftensufficient to enable him to grasp a character. What he hated above allthings was dulness--_ennui_; this never failed to provoke his keenestirony and bitterest sarcasms. In his last years he even became cynicaland rugged and vulgar, in which we may of course trace the influence ofhis tavern associates. It is to his credit that he did not sink intoByronic misanthropy and bitter self-lacerating scorn, or even intoHeine's irreverence and persiflage.
An old German poet says, "Seht das Loos der Menschheit--Heute Freude,Morgen Leid;"[28] but with Hoffmann joy and pain were frequently moreclosely allied than this even: whilst the jest was on his lips thesting would be in his heart. In this, as well as in several otherfeatures of his stormy career, he did indeed resemble his countrymanHeine. One of the necessities of his nature was human society--notsimply society, however, but people who could appreciate him, who couldfall in with his moods, and either follow intelligently when he led, orlend him a stimulating and helping hand to keep the ball of wit andjollity rolling. An illustration of this is found in the fact that he"did not love the society of women. If he could not mystify them, ordraw them into the circle of his fantasies, or discover in them anydecided talent for comicality, he preferred the society of men."Amongst women, however, after those of the class just named, he wasmost interested in young and pretty girls, being attracted by the charmof their fresh beauty, not by the charm of their mind. Learned women hehated.
Hoffmann was, as already observed, the child of extremes. These wererevealed not only in his life and action, but also in his writings; forhis writings are the man. Indeed German critics have said that hisworks, particularly the _Fantasiestuecke_, are "lyrics in prose." Whatthey mean by this phrase is chiefly that the things he wrote exhibitsubjective phrases of his nature, and are disconnected, or rather notconnected, not balanced parts of a systematic whole. This is true sofar as it is true that Hoffmann never did complete a long work, exceptthe _Elixiere_, and this work, as there has been occasion to point out,consists of two disjointed parts. One of the things that strike us mostin reading his books is the peculiar mixture of the real and theunreal, of matters appertaining to actual life and of fantasies bornonly of the imagination. Very often the imagination would be called bymost people a diseased imagination; but it is not always so, sometimesit is the poet's imagination. Hence, from this blending or closealternation of reality with what is not of the earth--hence came hislove for fairy tales, tales in which we meet with kobolds, imps,witches, little monsters of all kinds--the spirits and apparitions infact which used to haunt his excited fancy in such a strange way.Several of these are poetic creatures, whom he handles in a light,graceful, and pleasing style (_Goldener Topf_, _Nussknacker_, _Dasfremde Kind_, &c.); others, on the other hand, are drawn in horribleand unearthly colours and awaken the sentiments of awe and dread. Whathe loved especially to dwell upon was the "night side of naturalscience," the puzzling relations between the psychic and the physicalprinciples both in man and in Nature. Hence such states assomnambulism, magnetism, dreams, dark forebodings of the terrible,inhuman passions, and such things as automata and vampyres, had for himan insuperable attraction. Insanity was a mystery that haunted histhoughts for years: it figures largely in _Die Elixiere_ and _DerSandmann_; and in the third part of _Kater Murr_ it was his intentionto represent Kreisler's battle with adverse circumstances asculminating in insanity. Handling these, and states and situationsequally hideous, fantastic, and grotesque, with extraordinary clearnessand precision both of thought and of language, considering the oftenmisty nature of the subjects he treats of, and pouring upon the vividpictures he conjures up the brightness of his wit and the exuberantgaiety and grace of his fancy, he succeeds in creating scenes,situations, and characters which seem verily instinct with real life.This end was attained principally by the true genius he displayed inperception, apprehension, and description. His graphic descriptivepower is that which mainly procured him his wide-reaching fame duringhis own lifetime, not only in Germany but also in France, and is thatwhich principally gives to his works whatever permanent value they maypossess. With a painter's eye he grasps a character or a scene by a fewof its more prominent and essential features, and with a painter's handand eye he sketches them in a few telling strokes. The reader must notlook to find in Hoffmann any clever or subtle analysis of the deepermotives that work towards the development of character; all thatHoffmann can give him will be talented _pictures_. He himself lays downhis canon of literary spirit in the introduction to the first volume ofthe _Serapionsbrueder_--
"Vain are an author's efforts to bring us to believe in what he doesnot believe in himself, in what he cannot believe in, since he has notmade it his own by _seeing_ it (_erschauen_). What else are thecharacters of such an author, who, to borrow the old phrase, is no trueseer, but deceitful marionettes, painfully glued together out of alienmaterials?... At least let each one of us [the Brethren] striveearnestly and truly to grasp the image that has arisen in his mind inall its features, its colour
s, its lights and its shades, and then whenhe feels himself really enkindled by them let him proceed to embodythem in an external description."
Hoffmann has mostly succeeded in acting up to his canon and has writtenin its spirit; and in so far true genius cannot be denied him. Andhe possessed in no less eminent a degree the true art of the bornstory-teller. The interest seldom if ever flags; and the curiousanomalies of men and of men-creatures (_Mensch-Thiere_), whom hemingles amongst his winning heroines and his delightful satiriccharacters, oftener than not quite enthrall the mind or afford it trueenjoyment as the case may be, and this they do in spite of the factthat, owing to their own nature, they frequently stand outside theordinary sphere of human sympathies. Of course it may readily beconceived that the danger which he was liable to fall into was want ofclearness in conception and sentiment, but he has avoided this rock forthe most part with wonderful skill. One of his latest productions,_Prinzessin Brambilla_, is the one where this fault is most markedlyconspicuous; nor is the _Elixiere_ free from it.
German critics have not failed to notice the sweet grace and winningloveliness which hover about the characters of most of his heroines.They are nearly all presented in colours impregnated with real poeticbeauty; see, for instance, Seraphina (_Das Majorat_), Annunciata(_Doge_), Madelon and Mdlle. de Scudery (_Scuderi_), Rose (_MeisterMartin_), Cecily (_Berganza_), and others.
Carlyle, whose brief and for the most part truthful essay upon Hoffmann(in vol. ii. of his _German Romance_, 1829) appears to have been basedlargely upon others' opinions rather than upon first-hand acquaintancewith his author, says that in him "there are the materials of aglorious poet, but no poet has been fashioned out of them." And when weseek for poetic elements in Hoffmann's works, we are not altogetherdisappointed. We have just stated that his heroines are creations of apoet's fancy; and in the scene between Father Hilarius and Kreisler in_Kater Murr_, and in the passages and characters already alluded to in_Die Elixiere_, in the sunny cheerful _Maerchen_--_Der goldene Topf_(which Hoffmann calls his "poetic masterpiece"), in _Das Geluebde_,_Nussknacker_, &c., we enter the world of higher imagination. Again,whilst in _Doge und Dogaresse_ we are arrested by the poetic charm ofthe island life of the Lagune in the golden days of Venice's splendour,in _Meister Martin_ we are no less, perhaps still more impressed by therich romantic beauty of life in the old mediaeval town of Nuremberg. In_Die Scuderi_ we are made acquainted with the cold glittering court ofLouis XIV. through the lovable character of Mdlle. de Scudery; andwhilst on the one hand following with deep interest the fate of Brussonand his love, on the other we are led to contrast the subtilty of theplot with the fine analytic power of Poe in The _Murders in the RueMorgue_. When visiting with Hoffmann the weird castle of _Das Majorat_,we are made to hear the cold shrill blasts of the Baltic whistling pastour ears, and to feel the storm and the sea-spray dashing in our faces.These four tales are unquestionably the best that Hoffmann has written;to them must be added _Meister Wachte_, on account of its excellentcharacterisation of the hero. In striking contrast with the majority ofthe things he has written, these five tales show him when he is mostobjective; in them he has wielded his powers with more wise restraintthan in any of the others, and introduced less of his strange fantasticcaricatures. Next after these tales must be named, though on a lowerlevel, and simply because they best illustrate his peculiar genius, thetwo books of _Kater Murr_, the fairy tale _Der goldene Topf_, and _DesVetters Eckfenster_, In the works here named we have the best fruits ofHoffmann's pen. And if instead of asking in the mistaken spirit ofcompetition which is now so much in vogue. What is Hoffmann's positionin literature? we ask rather, Has he written anything that deserves tobe read? we shall have already had our answer. The works here singledout are worthy of being preserved and read; and of them _Das Majorat_and _Meister Martin_ are perhaps entitled to be called the best, thoughsome German critics have mentioned _Meister Wacht_ along with theformer as having a claim to the first rank.
It is now time to take a glance at Hoffmann's satiric power. This waslaunched principally against two classes of society; the one is that ofwhich his uncle Otto was a type, the man who is unreasonably obstinatein defence of the conventionalities of life, and no less so in theirsteady observance: the second class was that whose representativesaroused Hoffmann's ire so greatly at Bamberg and Berlin "tea-circles,"or "tea-sings"--those who coquetted with art in an unworthy orfrivolous manner. Against this latter class his irony and satiric wrathwere especially fierce, as may be read in _Berganza_, _Die Irrungen_,the _Kreisleriana_, _Kater Murr_, _Signor Formica_, &c. Perhaps themost amusing, for quiet humour, of the former class is _Die Brautwahl_.The force of his satiric power lay in the skilful use of suddencontrast. Hence it plays more frequently upon or near the surface, andlacks the depth and pathos of true humour; but it is idle to expectfrom a man what he hasn't got.
In so far as this author had any serious philosophical belief, it wouldappear to have been that man was a slave of Chance, or Fate, orDestiny, or whatever it may be called. Sometimes he is the plaything ofcircumstances; sometimes a defenceless victim under "Fate's brazenhand," or of "that Eternal Power which rules over us." The realsignificance of life is summoned up in the statement that it is astruggle between contending powers of good and evil, against both ofwhich man is equally helpless. He believed that whenever any good fellto a man's lot there was always some evil lurking in ambush behind it,or, to borrow his own expressive phrase, "the Devil must put his tailupon everything." His further views are here quoted from _DerMagnetiseur_:--
"We are knitted with all things without us, with all Nature, in suchclose ties, both psychic and physical, that the severance from themwould, if it were indeed possible, destroy our own existence. Ourso-called intensive life is conditioned by the extensive; the former isonly a reflex of the latter, in which the figures and images received,as if reflected in a concave mirror, often appear in changed relationsthat are wonderful and singularly strange, notwithstanding that thesecaricatures again And their real originals in life. I boldly maintain,that no man has ever thought or dreamt anything the elements of whichwere not to be found in Nature; nohow can he get out of her."
Was this the cause or the result of the visions he used to see?
From his conception of strife between good and evil as interpreting thesignificance of existence arose that dissonance which lies at the rootof nearly all his most characteristic works--that sense of want, thatfailure to find final satisfaction which may be only too readilydetected. For the conflict within himself he knew no real mediatory: hewas baffled to discover a higher category in which to unite theconflicting principles. Religion he never willingly talked about; henceit could not give him the satisfaction he lacked. He thought he foundit in Art, however; since for Art he battled with all the strength ofhis genius, and in the sacred mission of Art he believed with all hissoul. He has many enthusiastic bursts on the subject, agreeing in somerespects with the views laid down by Schiller in his _AesthetischeErziehung des Menschen_:--
"They alone are true artists who devote themselves with undivided loveand enthusiasm to their goddess; to them alone is true Art revealed....There is no Art which is not sacred.... The sacred purpose of all Artis apprehension of Nature in that deepest sense of the word whichenkindles in the soul an ardent striving after the higher life.... I donot ask about the artistes life; but his work must be pure, in thehighest degree respectable, and if possible religious. It has no need,therefore, to have any so-called moral tendency; nay, it ought not tohave such. The truly beautiful is itself moral, only in anotherform.... Art is eternally clear. The mists of ignorance are as inimicalto her as the life-destroying carbonic acid gas of immorality. Art isthe highest perfection of human power. Heart and Understanding are hercommon parents."
Music was his favourite art. It first taught him to feel; and not onlywas it his unfailing solace in hours of trouble, but it brought himmessages of deeper import: it disclosed to him glimpses of anotherworld--it was the "language of heaven." Her
e again a passage from hisown works expresses his opinions upon this point better than any otherpen can express them:--
"No art, I believe, affords such strong evidence of the spiritual inman as music, and there is no art that requires so exclusively meansthat are--purely intellectual and aetherial. The intuition of what isHighest and Holiest--of the Intelligent Power which enkindles the sparkof life in all Nature--is audibly expressed in musical sound; hencemusic and song are the utterance of the fullest perfection ofexistence--praise of the Creator! Agreeably to its real essentialnature, therefore, music is religious cultus; and its origin is to besought for and found, simply and solely, in religion, in theChurch."[29]
Treating of Hoffmann's position with respect to music, Wilibald Alexissays, "We do not know any other man who has expressed in words such areal true enthusiasm for an art [as Hoffmann for music]; andspecialists assure us that few have thoroughly grasped the nature ofmusic so admirably."
As far as a foreigner may presume to judge of Hoffmann's language andliterary style, it would appear to be chiefly distinguished by stronggrace, ease, naturalness, and nervous vigour. German criticsacknowledge its charms, calling it a model of clearness and masterlyskill and elegance. Perhaps its beauties are best seen, that is in amore chastened form, in _Kater Murr_. Repetitions, however, andexaggerations in description of sentiment tend, at times, to mar thereader's pleasure. Signs of haste, too, are not wanting, as Carlylepointed out. This was chiefly due to the very large number ofcommissions he received from publishers and others, who keenly competedfor the productions of his pen. At the date of his death he had as manycommissions on hand as would, if he accepted them all, have kept himfully employed for several years.
To those who love a good story, well told, the five specially mentionedmay be recommended; and for those who desire to explore the darkby-paths (_Irrwege_) of the human spirit, to penetrate to some of itsrarest comers, and to know all its ins and outs, as well as for thosewho aim at studying German literature, Hoffmann is a writer who oughtto be read at greater length.
THE TRANSLATOR.
FOOTNOTES TO "BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE":
[Footnote 1: The chief sources for this biographical notice have been_E. T. A. Hoffmann's Leben und Nachlass, von J. G. Hitzig, herausg. vonMicheline Hoffmann, geb. Rorer_, 5 vols., Stuttgart, 1839;_Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben_, von Z. Funck [C. Kunz], Leipsic, 1836;and various minor essays and papers.]
[Footnote 2: Later in life he adopted the name of "Amadeus" instead of"Wilhelm," out of admiration for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the greatmusician (see _Erinng._, pp. 77-80).]
[Footnote 3: Another account (see H. Doering's article "Hoffmann," inErsch und Gruber's _Allgem. Encyk._) states 21st Jan., 1778. The datein the text is the one, however, that is generally accepted, and nowwithout question; it is the one confirmed by Hoffmann himself (cf.Letter 15 in _Leben_).]
[Footnote 4: These two books, together with Schubert's _Symbolik desTraums_, were favourites with him throughout life. In his youth he wasa most diligent student of the new literature of his native country;English he also read to a large extent, Shakespearian quotations beingvery frequent in his letters; and we find the names of Sterne, Swift,Smollett, &c. Later in life he hardly read anything unless it wereexceptionally good, and then only when recommended to do so by hisfriends. Political papers he never read, and scarcely ever criticismson his own works.]
[Footnote 5: That is, after Hippel had completed his academic career,and left Koenigsberg.]
[Footnote 6: That is, after the king's death in 1797. She afterwardsmarried the Holbein here mentioned.]
[Footnote 7: _Romeo and Juliet_, iii. 9.]
[Footnote 8: _Leben_, iii. pp. 231-233.]
[Footnote 9: A suburb or park of Warsaw, beneath the tall beeches ofwhich Hoffmann loved to lie dreaming, or sketch from Nature.]
[Footnote 10: An equestrian statue of John Sobieski, the deliverer ofVienna from the Turks.]
[Footnote 11: Polish for "moustaches."]
[Footnote 12: _Leben_, iii. pp. 251-254.]
[Footnote 13: A very comic incident, of which Hoffmann himself was thehero, took place on the occasion of Werner's reading his new tragedy_Das Kreuz an der Ostsee_ to a select circle of friends. Unfortunatelyit cannot be compressed into sufficiently short space to be quotedhere. Hoffmann relates it in _Die Serapionsbrueder_, vol. iv., after_Signor Formica_.]
[Footnote 14: _Leben_, v. pp. 18-20; cf. also _Erinnerungen_ p. 1, &c.,where Kunz details the circumstances under which he was introduced toHoffmann.]
[Footnote 15: Several of Calderon's, mainly at Hoffmann's suggestionand by his assistance; the "Worship of the Cross" was particularlysuccessful in the Catholic town of Bamberg.]
[Footnote 16: Kunz tells us how they used to go down into the cellar,sit astride of the cask, and drink, and _sich des heitern Lebensfreuen_ with genial and sprightly sallies; and his picture has no faintsmack of Auerbach's Keller (_Faust_). See _Leben_, v. p. 177, note.]
[Footnote 17: Compare Nanni in_ Meister Wacht_, Clara in _DerSandmann_, Rose in _Meister Martin_, Cecily in _Berganza_, &c.]
[Footnote 18: See _Erinnerungen_, pp. 60 _sq._]
[Footnote 19: See _Leben_, iv. p. 95, v. p. 27; _Erinnerungen_, pp.28-31.]
[Footnote 20: These adventures are described in one of the mosthumorous chapters (iv.) of the _Erinnerungen_.]
[Footnote 21: It is treated of in _Don Juan_ and in _Die Fremdenloge_,in the _Fantasiestuecke_. A recent critic has declared that this essaywill always have value in connection with the stage-representation ofthe problem of Don Juan (cf. _Die Gegenwart_, 24th May, 1884).]
[Footnote 22: _Leben_, vol. iv. pp. 58, 59.]
[Footnote 23: _Leben_, vol. iv. p. 140.]
[Footnote 24: Contessa and Koreff are strikingly portrayed in the_Serapionsbrueder_ (vol. ii.), the former as "Sylvester," the latter as"Vincenz."]
[Footnote 25: The sexual relations are handled in a mystical, sensuousway; something of the same kind of treatment occurs again in _DasElementargeist_.]
[Footnote 26: _Leben_, vol. iv. pp. 118-120.]
[Footnote 27: _Leben_, iii. pp. 120-123; iv. p. 60.]
[Footnote 28: "Behold the lot of mankind--joy to-day, to-morrow grief,"Walther von Eschenbach's _Parzival_, ii. 103, ll. 23, 24.]
[Footnote 29: _Serapionsbrueder_, vol. ii., Introduction to part iv.]
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