The Serapion Brethren Volume Ii Part 48

Fraulein Aennchen was sitting in her room in the deepest sorrow, when the door opened, and who should come in but Herr Amandus von Nebelstern. All shame and contrition, she shed a flood of tears, and in the most weeping accents addressed him as follows: "Oh, my darling Amandus, pray forgive what I wrote to you in my blinded state! I was bewitched, and I am so still, no doubt. I am yellow, and I'm hideous, may G.o.d pity me! But my heart is true to you, and I am not going to marry any king at all."

"My dear girl," said Amandus, "I really don't see what you have to complain of. I consider you one of the luckiest women in the world."

"Oh, don't mock at me," she cried. "I am punished severely enough for my absurd vanity in wishing to be a Queen."

"Really and truly, my dear girl," said Amandus, "I can't make you out one bit. To tell you the real truth, your last letter drove me stark, staring mad. I first thrashed my servant-boy, then my poodle, smashed several gla.s.ses--and you know a student who's breathing out threatenings and slaughter in that sort of way isn't to be trifled with. But when I got a little calmer I made up my mind to come on here as quickly as I could, and see with my own eyes how, why, and to whom I had lost my intended bride. Love makes no distinction of cla.s.s or station, and I made up my mind that I would make this King Daucus Carota give a proper account of himself, and ask him if this tale about his marrying you was mere brag, or if he really meant it--but everything here is different to what I expected. As I was pa.s.sing near the grand marquee that is put up yonder, King Daucus Carota came out of it, and I soon found that I had before me the most charming prince I ever saw--at the same time he happens to be the first I ever did see; but that's nothing. For, just fancy, my dear girl, he immediately detected the sublime poet in me, praised my poems (which he has never read) above measure, and offered to appoint me Poet Laureate in his service. Now a position of that sort has long been the fairest goal of my warmest wishes, so that I accepted his offer with a thousandfold delight. Oh, my dear girl, with what an enthusiasm of inspiration will I chant your praises! A poet can love queens and princesses: or rather, it is really a part of his simple duty to choose a person of that exalted station to be the lady of his heart. And if he _does_ get rather cracky in the head on the subject, that circ.u.mstance of itself gives rise to that celestial delirium without which no poetry is possible, and no one ought to feel any surprise at a poet's perhaps somewhat extravagant proceedings. Remember the great Ta.s.so, who must have had a considerable bee in his bonnet when in love with the Princess Leonore d'Este. Yes, my dear girl, as you are going to be a queen so soon, you will always be the lady of my heart, and I will extol you to the stars in the sublimest and most celestial verses."

"What, you have seen him, the wicked Cobold?" Fraulein Aennchen broke out in the deepest amazement. "And he has----"

But at that moment in came the little gnomish King himself, and said, in the tenderest accents, "Oh, my sweet, darling _fiancee_! Idol of my heart! Do not suppose for a moment that I am in the least degree annoyed with the little piece of rather unseemly conduct which Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau was guilty of. Oh, no--and indeed it has led to the more rapid fulfilment of my hopes; so that the solemn ceremony of our marriage will actually be celebrated to-morrow. You will be pleased to find that I have appointed Herr Amandus von Nebelstern our Poet Laureate, and I should wish him at once to favour us with a specimen of his talents, and recite one of his poems. But let us go out under the trees, for I love the open air: and I will lie in your lap, while you, my most beloved bride elect, may scratch my head a little while he is singing--for I am fond of having my head scratched in such circ.u.mstances."

Fraulein Aennschen, turned to stone with horror and alarm, made no resistance to this proposal. Daucus Carota, out under the trees, laid himself in her lap, she scratched his head, and Herr Amandus, accompanying himself on the guitar, began the first of twelve dozen songs which he had composed and written out in a thick book.

It is matter of regret that in the Chronicle of Dapsulheim (from which all this history is taken), these songs have not been inserted, it being merely stated that the country folk who were pa.s.sing, stopped on their way, and anxiously inquired who could be in such terrible pain in Herr Dapsul's wood, that he was crying and screaming out in such a style.

Daucus Carota, in Aennschen's lap, twisted and writhed, and groaned and whined more and more lamentably, as if he had a violent pain in his stomach. Moreover, Fraulein Aennchen fancied she observed, to her great amazement, that Cordovanspitz was growing smaller and smaller as the song went on. At last Herr Amandus sung the following sublime effusion (which is preserved in the Chronicle):--

"Gladly sings the Bard, enraptured, Breath of blossoms, bright dream-visions, Moving thro' roseate s.p.a.ces in Heaven, Blessed and beautiful, whither away?

'Whither away?' oh, question of questions-- Towards that 'Whither,' the Bard is borne onward, Caring for nought but to love, to believe.

Moving through roseate heavenly s.p.a.ces, Towards this 'Whither,' where'er it may be, Singeth the bard, in a tumult of rapture, Ever becoming a radiant em----"

At this point, Daucus Carota uttered a loud croaking cry, and, now dwindled into a little, little carrot, slipped down from Aennchen's lap, and into the ground, leaving no trace behind. Upon which, the great grey fungus which had grown in the night time beside the gra.s.sy bank, shot up and up; but this fungus was nothing less than Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau's grey felt hat, and he himself was under it, and fell stormily on Amandus's breast, crying out in the utmost ecstasy, "Oh, my dearest, best, most beloved Herr Amandus von Nebelstern, with that mighty song of conjuration you have beaten all my cabalistic science out of the held? What the profoundest magical art, the utmost daring of the philosopher fighting for his very existence, could not accomplish, your verses achieved, pa.s.sing into the frame of the deceitful Daucus Carota like the deadliest poison, so that he must have perished of stomach-ache, in spite of his gnomish nature, if he had not made off into his kingdom. My daughter Anna is delivered--I am delivered from the horrible charm which held me spellbound here in the shape of a nasty fungus, at the risk of being hewn to pieces by my own daughter's hands; for the good soul hacks them all down with her spade, unless their edible character is unmistakable, as in the case of the mushrooms. Thanks, my most heartfelt thanks, and I have no doubt your intentions as regards my daughter have undergone no change. I am sorry to say she has lost her good looks, through the machinations of that inimical gnome; but you are too much of a philosopher to----"

"Oh, dearest papa," cried Aennchen, overjoyed; "just look there! The silken palace is gone! The abominable monster is off and away with all his tribe of salad-princes, cuc.u.mber-ministers, and Lord knows what all!" And she ran away to the vegetable garden, delighted, Herr Dapsul following as fast as he could. Herr Amandus went behind them, muttering to himself, "I'm sure I don't know quite what to make of all this. But this I maintain, that that ugly little carrot creature is a vile, prosaic lubber, and none of your poetical kings, or my sublime lay wouldn't have given him the stomach-ache, and sent him scuttling into the ground."

As Fraulein Aennchen was standing in the vegetable garden, where there wasn't the trace of a green blade to be seen, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in the finger which had on the fateful ring. At the same time a cry of piercing sorrow sounded from the ground, and the tip of a carrot peeped out. Guided by her inspiration she quickly took the ring off (it came quite easily this time), stuck it on to the carrot, and the latter disappeared, while the cry of sorrow ceased. But, oh, wonder of wonders! all at once Fraulein Aennchen was as pretty as ever, well-proportioned, and as fair and white as a country lady can be expected to be. She and her father rejoiced greatly, while Amandus stood puzzled, and not knowing what to make of it all.

Fraulein Aennchen took the spade from the maid, who had come running up, and flourished it in the air with a joyful shout of "Now let's set to work," in doing which she was unfortunate enough to deal Herr Amandus such a thwack on the head with it (just at the place where the Sensorium Commune is supposed to be situated) that he fell down as one dead.

Aennchen threw the murderous weapon far from her, cast herself down beside her beloved, and broke out into the most despairing lamentations, whilst the maid poured the contents of a watering pot over him, and Herr Dapsul quickly ascended the astronomic tower to consult the stars with as little delay as possible as to whether Herr Amandus was dead or not. But it was not long before the latter opened his eyes again, jumped to his legs, clasped Fraulein Aennchen in his arms, and cried, with all the rapture of affection, "Now, my best and dearest Anna, we are one another again."

The very remarkable, scarcely credible effect of this occurrence on the two lovers very soon made itself perceptible. Fraulein Aennchen took a dislike to touching a spade, and she did really reign like a queen over the vegetable world, inasmuch as, though taking care that her va.s.sals were properly supervised and attended to, she set no hand to the work herself, but entrusted it to maids in whom she had confidence.

Herr Amandus, for his part, saw now that everything he had ever written in the shape of verses was wretched, miserable trash, and, burying himself in the works of the real poets, both of ancient and modern times, his being was soon so filled with a beneficent enthusiasm that no room was left for any consideration of himself. He arrived at the conviction that a real poem has got to be something other than a confused jumble of words shaken together under the influence of a crude, jejeune delirium, and threw all his own (so-called) poetry, of which he had had such a tremendous opinion, into the fire, becoming once more quite the sensible young gentleman, clear and open in heart and mind, which he had been originally.

And one morning Herr Dapsul did actually come down from his astronomical tower to go to church with Fraulein Aennchen and Herr Amandus von Nebelstern on the occasion of their marriage.

They led an exceedingly happy wedded life. But as to whether Herr Dapsul's union with the Sylphide Nehabilah ever actually came to anything the Chronicle of Dapsulheim is silent.

During the reading of this the Friends had laughed a good deal, and they were unanimously of opinion that, though there was not a great deal in the plot, yet that the details were so humorous and droll that, as a whole, the tale was a success.

"As to the plot," Vincenz said, "there is rather a curious circ.u.mstance connected with that. Not long since, happening to be dining at the table of a certain lady of princely rank, there was a lady present who had on a gold ring with a beautiful topaz, of which the remarkably antique-looking form and workmanship attracted universal attention. We thought it had been some precious heirloom, and were astonished to hear that it had been found sticking on a carrot dug up on her property a few years previously. Probably it had been lying pretty deep in the ground, and had been brought towards the surface when the land was trenched, so that the carrot had grown through it.

"The Princess pointed out what a good idea for a story this suggested, and wished that I should set to work to write one at once on the subject. So, you see, I hadn't far to go for the idea of the 'Vegetable King and his People,' and I claim the invention of them for myself, for there isn't a trace of him to be found in Gabalis or any other book of the kind."

"Now," said Lothair, "I think we may say that on none of our former Serapion evenings has our fare been of a more various character than to-night. And it is good that we have managed to emerge from that gruesome darkness into which we had wandered somehow--I am sure it is hard to tell why--into the clear, brightsome light of day, although, no doubt, a serious, careful person might, with some reason, say that all the fantastic matter which we have so long been going on spinning and acc.u.mulating might have a considerable tendency to induce confusion of head, if not headache and feverishness."

"We should all do the best we can," said Theodore. "But let no one deem that his own particular qualities and powers const.i.tute the norm of what the human understanding is to have laid before it. For there are people--good sensible folks enough in other respects--who are so easily made giddy in their heads that they think the rapid flight of an awakened imagination is the result of an unsound condition of mind. So that such people say, of this or the other writer, that he only writes when he is under the influence of intoxicating drinks, and attribute his imaginative writings to over-excited nerves, and a certain amount of deliriousness thence arising. But everybody knows that although a condition of mind raising from either of those causes can give rise to a happy thought, or fortunate idea, it is impossible that it can yield perfect and finished work, because that demands the very quietest study and consideration."

On this evening Theodore had set before his friends some remarkably superior wine sent to him by a friend on the Rhine. He poured what remained of it into the gla.s.ses, and said:--

"I cannot explain why it should be so; but a melancholy foreboding comes upon me that we are going to part for a long time, and may, perhaps, never meet again. But surely the remembrance of those Serapion evenings will long live in our minds. We have given free play to the capricious promptings of our fancy. Each of us has spoken out what he saw in his mind's eye, without supposing his ideas to be anything extraordinary, or giving them forth as being so, knowing well that the first essential of all effective composition is that kindly unpretendingness which is the thing that has the power to warm the heart and please the mind. If Fate is about to part us, then let us always faithfully follow the rule of Saint Serapion, and vowing this to each other, drink this last gla.s.s of our wine."

What Theodore suggested was accordingly done.