The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr

by E. T. A. Hoffmann

  I truthfully confessed to my friend Muzius that I didn’t entirely understand either the term Philistine or what he really meant.

  ‘Oh, my brother,’ replied Muzius, with a delightful smile which made him look most attractive at that moment, quite my dear old Muzius again, ‘oh, brother Murr, any attempt to explain it all to you would be useless, for you could never, never understand what a Philistine is while you are still a Philistine yourself. However, if you will make do for the time being with some of the fundamental characteristics of a Philistine cat, then I can –

  W.P. – a very strange spectacle. Princess Hedwiga was standing in the middle of the room, her face pale as death, her glance absolutely fixed. Prince Ignatius was playing about with her as if she were a jointed doll. He raised her arm in the air and it remained there; it was lowered when he moved it down. He gave her a gentle push and she walked forward; he made her stop, and she stood there; he put her into an armchair and she sat down. So immersed was the Prince in this game that he did not even notice the new arrivals.

  ‘What are you doing, Prince?’ cried his mother Princess Maria.

  Giggling and rubbing his hands happily, he told them his sister Hedwiga was a good girl now and did everything he wanted, instead of contradicting and scolding him as usual. And with that he began putting the Princess into all kinds of different positions, issuing commands in a military manner. He laughed out loud and jumped for joy every time she remained in the position where he had placed her, as if she were under a magic spell.

  ‘This is not to be borne!’ said Princess Maria quietly in a trembling voice, tears gleaming in her eyes.

  The court physician, however, went up to the Prince and said, in stern and commanding tones, ‘Stop it, your Highness!’ Then he took Princess Hedwiga in his arms, laid her gently on the ottoman which stood in the room, and drew the curtains. ‘Just now,’ he said, turning to her mother, ‘just now what the Princess needs most is absolute peace and quiet. I would ask Prince Ignatius to leave the room.’

  Prince Ignatius behaved in a very refractory way, complaining tearfully that all sorts of people kept crossing him these days, people who weren’t princes at all or even nobility. He said he wanted to stay with the Princess his sister, whom he loved now more than his prettiest cups, and the physician had no business to give him orders.

  ‘Do go, my dear Prince,’ said his mother gently. ‘Go to your room. The Princess must sleep now, and Fräulein Julia is coming after dinner.’

  ‘Fräulein Julia!’ cried the Prince, laughing childishly and capering about. ‘Fräulein Julia! Oh, how nice! I’ll show her the new engravings, and how I’m pictured in the story of the King of the Water as Prince Salmon wearing his great order!’ And so saying he ceremoniously kissed his mother’s hand, and proudly held out his own for the physician to kiss. The doctor, however, took the Prince’s hand, led him to the door, and opened it with a civil bow. The Prince allowed himself to be shown out of the room in this way.

  Princess Maria sank into an easy chair, all pain and exhaustion, leaned her head on her hand and said quietly to herself, in tones of the deepest grief: ‘What mortal sin weighs down on me that Heaven should punish me so harshly? My son condemned to eternal infancy, and now Hedwiga – my Hedwiga!’ And she fell into sad and gloomy thoughts.

  Meanwhile the physician had induced Princess Hedwiga, with some difficulty, to take a few drops of some healing medicament, and called her waiting women. After he had instructed them to summon him whenever anything at all happened to her, they bore the Princess, whose automaton-like state did not change one jot, away to her bedchamber.

  ‘Your Highness,’ said the court physician, turning to Princess Maria, ‘strange and alarming as the Princess’s condition may appear, yet I think I can assure you with certainty that it will soon pass over, leaving not the slightest dangerous after-effects. The Princess is suffering from that very singular and strange kind of catalepsy which occurs so rarely in medical practice that many a famous doctor has never in his life had a chance of observing it, so that I may consider myself lucky to –’ Here the physician stopped.

  ‘Ah,’ said Princess Maria, bitterly, ‘I hear the voice of the practical doctor who cares nothing for boundless suffering so long as he can increase his knowledge.’

  ‘Only a little while ago,’ continued the court physician, ignoring the Princess’s reproach, ‘I found an example in a scientific book of a case precisely resembling the state into which the Princess has fallen. A lady (says my author) came from Vesoul to Besançon to pursue a lawsuit. The importance of the lawsuit, the idea that losing her case would be the greatest, worst event in the sad misfortunes she had suffered and would surely plunge her into want and misery, filled her with the liveliest anxiety, which increased until her whole mind was in great agitation. She passed sleepless nights, ate little, was seen in church falling to her knees and praying in an unwonted manner, in short, her abnormal state of mind manifested itself in various different ways. On the very day when her case was to be judged, however, she suffered an attack which those present took for a stroke. The doctors summoned to treat the lady found her sitting motionless in an easy chair, glittering eyes raised to Heaven, eyelids open and unblinking, arms raised and hands folded. Her face, previously sad and pale, was more blooming, cheerful and agreeable than before, her breathing was regular and unimpeded, her pulse faint and slow, almost exactly like the pulse of someone sleeping peacefully. Her limbs were supple and felt light, and could be put into any position without the slightest resistance. But her illness and the impossibility of any deception showed in the fact that those limbs would not, of their own accord, come out of the position into which they had been placed. When her chin was pressed down her mouth opened and remained open. When first one of her arms was raised, and then the other, they did not drop. They were bent behind her back and stretched upwards in a position which it would have been impossible for anyone to hold for long, and yet she did. Her body could be bent over as far as one liked; it always remained in the most perfect equilibrium. She seemed to have no sensation at all; people shook her, pinched her, tormented her, placed her feet on a hot brazier, shouted in her ear that she was going to win her case: all in vain, she gave no voluntary sign of life. Gradually she came to herself, but her speech was disjointed. At last –’

  ‘Go on,’ said Princess Maria, when the physician stopped, ‘go on, don’t keep anything from me, however dreadful! The lady went mad – am I not right?’

  ‘Let it suffice,’ continued the physician, ‘let it suffice to add that she remained in a very grave condition for only four days, that when she returned to Vesoul she recovered completely, and she felt no serious effects at all of her grave and unusual illness.’

  While Princess Maria fell into gloomy reflections again, the physician held forth at length on the medical means he thought of using to treat Princess Hedwiga, and finally lost himself in demonstrations of as scientific a nature as if he were addressing a medical conference of the most learned doctors.

  ‘What use,’ said Princess Maria at last, interrupting the voluble physician, ‘what use are all the methods speculative science can offer if the patient’s mental health and well-being are endangered?’

  The physician was silent for some moments, and then went on: ‘Your Highness, the example of that lady’s remarkable catalepsy in Besançon shows that her illness had a psychic cause. When she had some command of her senses again they began her treatment by persuading her to take courage, and telling her the troublesome lawsuit was won. The most experienced of doctors all agree that some sudden strong emotion is indeed most likely to induce such a condition. Princess Hedwiga is sensitive to an extremely uncommon degree, indeed, there are times when I might call the organization of her nervous system abnormal in itself. It certainly appears that some violent shock to her mind has caused her illness. We must try to discover the cause so that we can treat it successfully by psychic methods! The sudden departure of Prince
Hector – well, your Highness, a mother may perhaps see further than any doctor, and show him the best means of restoring her daughter to health.’

  The Princess rose and said, in a cold, proud voice: ‘Even a woman of the middle class likes to preserve the secrets of the female heart. The princely house discloses its inmost thoughts only to the Church and her servants, among whom a doctor is not to be numbered!’

  ‘Why,’ cried the physician vehemently, ‘who can separate physical and mental health so sharply? A doctor is a second confessor; he must be allowed glimpses into the depths of the patient’s psychic nature if he is not to risk failure at every turn. Think of the story of that sick Prince, your Highness –’

  ‘That will do!’ Princess Maria interrupted the doctor, almost angrily. ‘That will do! I will never be induced to commit impropriety, and nor can I believe that any impropriety, even if only of thought and sentiment, can have caused Princess Hedwiga’s illness.’

  With which Princess Maria turned and left the physician where he was.

  ‘A strange woman, the Princess!’ said he to himself. ‘A strange woman! She’d like to persuade others, and even herself, that when Nature is making something princely the putty she uses to stick body and soul together is of a very special kind, not to be compared with the sort she employs for us poor mortals of middle-class birth. We are not to suppose for a moment that Princess Hedwiga has a heart, just as that Spanish courtier turned down the gift of silk stockings which the good burghers of the Netherlands wished to present to their Princess, because it would be improper to recollect that a Queen of Spain actually had feet like other honest folk! And yet I’ll wager that the cause of the worst nervous ills afflicting Princess Hedwiga is to be sought in the heart, the laboratory of all female disorders.’

  The physician was thinking of Prince Hector’s rapid departure, the Princess’s excessive and morbid sensitivity, the passionate manner in which (he had heard) she was said to have behaved towards the Prince; it therefore seemed to him certain that some sudden love quarrel had wounded the Princess enough to cause her sudden illness.

  We shall see whether the physician’s assumptions were correct or not. As for Princess Maria, she perhaps suspected something similar, and for that very reason would not countenance any inquiries or investigations on the doctor’s part, since courts in general despise all deep emotions as vulgar and not to be countenanced. The Princess had a good mind and a good heart, but that strange half-foul, half-ludicrous monster called Etiquette had laid itself on her breast like a smothering incubus, and would permit no sigh, no sign of her inner life, to rise from her heart any more. In consequence, she felt obliged to reconcile herself even to such scenes as her son and daughter had just enacted, and proudly reject a man who only wanted to help.

  While this was happening in the castle, there were various incidents going on in the park as well, incidents which must be narrated here.

  The fat Lord Marshal was standing in the bushes to the left of the entrance. He drew a small gold box from his pocket, took a pinch of snuff, passed the sleeve of his coat over the snuff-box a few times and handed it to the Prince’s personal valet, saying, ‘I know you like such pretty things, my good friend, so pray accept this box as a small token of my gracious esteem, upon which you can always count! Now, my dear fellow, tell me all about that strange and unusual excursion?’

  ‘My humblest thanks!’ replied the valet, pocketing the gold box. Then he cleared his throat and went on, ‘I can tell you, your Excellency, sir, his Highness has been in a state of great alarm ever since her Highness Princess Hedwiga lost the use of her five wits, no one knows how. Today his Highness stood perfectly upright at the window for perhaps half an hour, drumming the gracious fingers of his right hand on the glass pane in a horrid manner, making it rattle and squeal. As for the rhythm of his drumming, though, it was all pretty marching music of pleasing melody and a lively nature, as my late brother-in-law the court trumpeter used to put it. Your Excellency must know that my late brother-in-law the court trumpeter was a skilful man; he blew his C major like the deuce, his C minor and G minor like the song of the nightingale, and as for his playing in the principale–’5

  ‘Yes, yes, I know all that, my dear fellow!’ said the Lord Marshal, interrupting the voluble valet. ‘Your late brother-in-law was an excellent court trumpeter, but now tell me, what did his Serene Highness do, what did he say, when he had finished drumming those marches?’

  ‘What did he do? What did he say?’ went on the valet. ‘Hm – well, not much. His Serene Highness turned round, looked hard at me with blazing eyes, and pulled the bell in a terrible manner, calling as he did so, “François, François!” “Highness, here I am!” cried I. Whereupon his Highness said very crossly, “Why didn’t you say so at once, you donkey?” And then he added, “Fetch my walking dress!” I did as I was told. His Serene Highness was pleased to put on his green silk coat, the one without a star on the breast, and walk out into the park. He forbade me to follow him, but – well, you see, your Excellency, sir, a man must know where his Highness is to be found, just in case some accident – well, so I followed at quite a distance, and saw his Highness go into the fisherman’s cottage.’

  ‘To see Master Abraham!’ cried the Lord Marshal in great surprise.

  ‘That’s it,’ said the valet, looking very important and mysterious.

  ‘The fisherman’s cottage,’ repeated the Lord Marshal. ‘Went into the fisherman’s cottage to see Master Abraham! His Serene Highness has never visited the Master in the fisherman’s cottage!’

  A silence pregnant with foreboding followed, and then the Lord Marshal continued: ‘And didn’t his Serene Highness say anything else?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ replied the valet, meaningly. ‘But,’ he continued with a sly smile, ‘one window of the fisherman’s cottage looks out over the thickest of the bushes, and there’s a recess there where every word spoken inside can be heard – one could –’

  ‘Oh, my dear fellow, I wish you would!’ cried the Lord Marshal in delight.

  ‘I will!’ said the valet, stealing quietly away. But as he stepped out of the bushes, he found himself facing Prince Irenaeus, who was on his way back to the castle, so close that they were almost touching. He stepped back in alarm and respect.

  ‘Vous êtes un grand dunderhead!’ thundered Prince Irenaeus. He then gave the Lord Marshal a chilly ‘Dormez bien!’ and strode away to the castle with the valet after him.

  Much taken aback, the Lord Marshal stood there muttering, ‘Fisherman’s cottage – Master Abraham – dormez bien –’ and immediately decided to go and see the Chancellor of the realm, to discuss this extraordinary event and discover, if possible, what situation at court might arise from it.

  Master Abraham had accompanied the Prince as far as the bushes where the Lord Marshal and the valet were standing. Here he turned back at the bidding of the Prince, who did not want to be seen from the castle windows in Master Abraham’s company. The gentle reader knows just how well the Prince had succeeded in concealing his solitary and secret visit to Master Abraham in the fisherman’s cottage. But another person besides the valet had been watching him, although he could not know it.

  Master Abraham had almost reached his own lodgings when Madame Benzon quite unexpectedly approached him, walking down the paths over which dusk was already falling.

  ‘Well,’ cried Madame Benzon, with a bitter laugh, ‘so the Prince has been to take counsel with you, Master Abraham. You are indeed the true prop and stay of the princely house; you bestow your wisdom and experience on both father and son, and when good advice is in short supply, or cannot be had at all –’

  ‘Why, then,’ Master Abraham interrupted Madame Benzon, ‘then there is a lady, the widow of a Councillor, who is the bright star shedding her light on all here, and even a poor old organ-builder can lead his simple life undisturbed under her influence.’

  ‘Do not jest,’ said Madame Benzon, ‘do not jest so bitterly,
Master Abraham. A star which shines brightly can soon turn pale, fleeing from our horizon, and at last sink entirely. In this isolated family circle, commonly designated the court by a small town and a few dozen people more than happen to live in it, the strangest events seem to be trying to intersect. The sudden departure of the bridegroom so ardently awaited – Hedwiga’s dangerous condition! – All this would indeed be sure to depress the Prince deeply, were he not a man with no feelings at all.’

  ‘You weren’t always of that opinion, Madame Benzon,’ Master Abraham interrupted her.

  ‘I don’t understand you,’ said she in a scornful tone, as she cast the Master a penetrating glance and then quickly turned her face away.

  Prince Irenaeus, with that sense of trust he had felt impelled to repose in Master Abraham, and indeed recognizing the intellectual supremacy he must allow him, had set aside all princely reserve and poured his whole heart out to him in the fisherman’s cottage, but he had said nothing of any comments made by Madame Benzon on the day’s disturbing events. Master Abraham knew this, and was the less surprised to find the lady so sensitive, although it did surprise him that, cold and reserved as she was, she could not hide that sensitivity better.

  However, it must surely wound Madame Benzon deeply to see the monopoly of control she had assumed over the Prince imperilled again, and that at a crucial, fateful moment.