The Best Tales of Hoffmann

by E. T. A. Hoffmann

  It was from this young Amandus that the letter came which Aennchen opened and read, as follows:—

  Heavenly Maiden—

  Dost thou see, dost thou feel, dost thou not image and figure to thyself, thy Amandus, how, circumambiated by the orange-flower-laden breath of the dewy evening, he is lying on his back in the grass, gazing heavenward with eyes filled with the holiest love and the most longing adoration? The thyme and the lavender, the rose and the gilliflower, as also the yellow-eyed narcissus and the shamefaced violet—he weaveth into garlands. And the flowers are love-thoughts—thoughts of thee, oh Anna! But doth feeble prose beseem inspired lips? Listen! oh, listen how I can only love, and speak of my love, sonnetically!

  Love flames aloft in thousand eager sunspheres,

  Joy wooeth joy within the heart so warmly:

  Down from the darkling sky soft stars are shining,

  Back-mirrored from the deep, still wells of love-tears.

  Delight, alas! doth die of joy too burning—

  The sweetest fruit hath aye the bitt’rest kernel—

  While longing beckons from the violet distance,

  In pain of love my heart to dust is turning.

  In fiery billows’ rage the ocean surges,

  Yet the bold swimmer dares the plunge full arduous,

  And soon amid the waves his strong course urges.

  And on the shore, now near, the jacinth shoots:

  The faithful heart holds firm: ‘twill bleed to death;

  But heart’s blood is the sweetest of all roots.

  Oh, Anna! when thou readest this sonnet of all sonnets, may all the heavenly rapture permeate thee in which all my being was dissolved when I wrote it down, and then read it out, to kindred minds, conscious, like myself, of life’s highest. Think, oh, think! sweet maiden of

  Thy faithful, enraptured,

  Amandus von Nebelstern.

  P.S.—Don’t forget, oh, sublime maiden! when answering this, to send a pound or two of that Virginia tobacco which you grow yourself. It burns splendidly, and has a far better flavour than the Porto Rico which the Bürschen smoke when they go to the Kneipe.

  Fräulein Aennchen pressed the letter to her lips, and said, “Oh, how dear, how beautiful! And the darling verses, rhyming so beautifully. Oh, if I were only clever enough to understand it all; but I suppose nobody can do that but a student. I wonder what that about the ‘roots’ means? I suppose it must be the long red English carrots, or, who knows, it may be the rampion.”

  That very day Fräulein Aennchen made it her business to pack up the tobacco, and she took a dozen of her finest goose quills to the schoolmaster, to get him to make them into pens. Her intention was to sit down at once and begin her answer to the precious letter. As she was going out of the kitchen garden, she was again followed by a very faint almost imperceptible sound of delicate laughter; and if she had paid a little attention to what was going on, she would have been sure to hear a little delicate voice saying, “Pull me, pull me! I am ripe—ripe—ripe!” However, as we have said, she paid no attention, and did not hear this.

  II

  Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau generally came down from his astronomical tower about noon, to partake of a frugal repast with his daughter, which usually lasted a very short time, and during which there was generally a great predominance of silence, for Dapsul did not like to talk. And Aennchen did not trouble him by speaking much, and this all the more for the reason that if her papa did actually begin to talk, he would come out with all sorts of curious unintelligible nonsense, which made a body’s head giddy. This day, however, her head was so full, and her mind so excited and taken up with the flourishing state of the kitchen garden, and the letter from her beloved Amandus, that she talked of both subjects incessantly, mixed up, without leaving off. At last Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau laid down his knife and fork, stopped his ears with his hands, and cried out, “Oh, damn this empty gabbling!”

  Aennchen stopped, alarmed, and he went on to say, in the melancholy sustained tones which were characteristic of him, “With regard to the vegetables, my dear daughter, I have long been cognizant that the manner in which the stars have worked together this season has been eminently favourable to those growths, and the earthly man will be amply supplied with cabbage, radishes, and lettuce, so that the earthly matter may duly increase and withstand the fire of the world-spirit, like a properly kneaded pot. The gnomic principle will resist the attacks of the salamander, and I shall have the enjoyment of eating the parsnips which you cook so well. With regard to young Amandus von Nebelstern, I have not the slightest objection to your marrying him as soon as he comes back from the university. Simply send Gottlieb up to tell me when your marriage is going to take place, so that I may go with you to the church.”

  Herr Dapsul kept silence for a few seconds, and then, without looking at Aennchen, whose face was glowing with delight, he went on, smiling and striking his glass with his fork (two things which he seldom did at all, though he always did them together) to say, “Your Amandus is a man who has to, must do something—that is to say, a gerund. I shall merely tell you, my dear Aennchen, that I drew up his horoscope a long while ago. His constellation is favourable enough on the whole. He has Jupiter in the ascending node, Venus regarding in the sextile. The trouble is, that the path of Sirius cuts across, and just at the point of intersection, there is a great danger from which Amandus delivers his betrothed. The danger—what it is—is undiscoverable, because some strange being, which appears to set at defiance all astrological science, seems to be concerned in it. At the same time, it is evident and certain that it is only the strange physical condition which mankind terms craziness, or mental derangement, which will enable Amandus to accomplish this deliverance. Oh, my daughter!” (here Herr Dapsul fell again into his usual pathetic tones), “may no mysterious power, which keeps itself hidden from my seer-eyes, come suddenly across your path, so that young Amandus von Nebelstern may not have to rescue you from any other danger but that of being an old maid.” He sighed several times consecutively, and then continued, “But the path of Sirius breaks off abruptly after this danger, and Venus and Jupiter, divided before, come together again, reconciled.”

  Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau had not spoken so much for years as on this occasion. He arose exhausted, and went back up into his tower.

  Aennchen had her answer to Herr von Nebelstern ready in good time next morning. It was as follows:—

  My Own Dearest Amandus—

  You cannot believe what joy your letter has given me. I have told papa about it, and he has promised to go to church with us when we’re married. Be sure to come back from the university as soon as ever you can. Oh! if I only could quite understand your darling verses, which rhyme so beautifully. When I read them to myself aloud they sound wonderful, and then I think I do understand them quite well. But soon everything grows confused, and seems to get away from me, and I feel as if I had been reading a lot of mere words that somehow don’t belong to each other at all. The schoolmaster says this must be so, and that it’s the new fashionable way of speaking. But, you see, I’m—oh, well!—I’m only a stupid, foolish creature. Please to write and tell me if I couldn’t be a student for a little time, without neglecting my housework. I suppose that couldn’t be, though, could it? Well, well: when once we’re husband and wife, perhaps I may pick up a little of your learning, and learn a little of this new, fashionable way of speaking.

  I send you the Virginian tobacco, my dearest Amandus. I’ve packed my bonnet box full of it, as much as ever I could get into it; and, in the meantime, I’ve put my new straw hat on Charlemagne’s head—you know he stands in the spare bedroom, although he has no feet, being only a bust, as you remember.

  Please don’t laugh, Amandus dear; but I have made some poetry myself, and it rhymes quite nicely, some of it. Write and tell me how a person, without learning, can know so well what rhymes to what? Just listen, now—

  I love you, dearest, as my life.

&nb
sp; And long at once to be your wife.

  The bright blue sky is full of light,

  When evening comes the stars shine bright.

  So you must love me always truly,

  And never cause me pain unduly,

  I pack up the ’baccy you asked me to send,

  And I hope it will yield you enjoyment no end.

  There! you must take the will for the deed, and when I learn the fashionable way of speaking, I’ll do some better poetry. The yellow lettuces are promising splendidly this year—never was such a crop; so are the French beans; but my little dachshund, Feldmann, gave the big gander a terrible bite in the leg yesterday. However, we can’t have everything perfect in this world. A hundred kisses in imagination, my dearest Amandus, from

  Your most faithful fiancée,

  Anna von Zabelthau.

  P.S.—I’ve been writing in an awful hurry, and that’s the reason the letters are rather crooked here and there.

  P.S.—But you mustn’t mind about that. Though I may write a little crookedly, my heart is all straight, and I am

  Always your faithful

  Anna.

  P.S.—Oh, good gracious! I had almost forgot—thoughtless thing that I am. Papa sends you his kind regards, and says you are to rescue me from a terrible danger some day. Now, I’m very glad of this, and remain, once more,

  Your most true and loving

  Anna von Zabelthau.

  It was a good weight off Fräulein Aennchen’s mind when she had written this letter; it had cost her a considerable effort. So she felt lighthearted and happy when she had put it in its envelope, sealed it up without burning the paper or her own fingers, and given it, together with the bonnet-boxful of tobacco, to Gottlieb to take to the post office in the town. When she had seen properly to the poultry in the yard, she ran as fast as she could to the place she loved best-the kitchen garden. When she got to the carrot bed she thought it was about time to be thinking of the gourmets in the town, and be pulling the earliest of the carrots. The servant-girl was called in to help in this process. Fraulein Aennchen walked, gravely and seriously, into the middle of the bed, and grasped a stately carrot plant. But when she pulled at it a strange sound was heard. Do not, reader, think of the witches’ mandrake root, and the horrible whining and howling which pierces the heart of man when it is drawn from the earth. No; the tone which was heard on this occasion was like very delicate, joyous laughter. But Fraulein Aennchen let the carrot plant go, and cried out, rather frightened, “Eh! Who’s that laughing at me?” But there being nothing more to be heard she took hold of the carrot plant again-which seemed to be finer and better grown than any of the rest-and notwithstanding the laughing, which began again, pulled up the very finest and most splendid carrot ever beheld by mortal eye. When she looked at it more closely she gave a cry of joyful surprise, so that the maidservant came running up; and she also exclaimed aloud at the beautiful miracle which disclosed itself to her eyes. For there was a beautiful ring firmly attached to the carrot, with a shining topaz mounted in it.

  “Oh,” cried the maid, “that’s for you! It’s your wedding ring. Put it on right away ! ”

  “Stupid nonsense!” said Fraulein Aennchen. “I must get my wedding ring from Herr Amandus von Nebelstern, not from a carrot.”

  However, the longer she looked at the ring, the better she was pleased with it; and, indeed, it was of such wonderfully fine workmanship that it seemed to surpass anything ever produced by human skill. On the ring part of it there were hundreds and hundreds of tiny little figures twined together in the most manifold groupings, hardly to be made out with the naked eye at first, so microscopically minute were they. But when one looked at them closely for a little while they appeared to grow bigger and more distinct, and to come to life, and dance in pretty combinations. And the gem was of such a remarkable water that the like of it could not have been found in the celebrated Dresden collection.

  “Who knows,” said the maid, “how long this beautiful ring has been underground? And it must have got shoved up somehow, and then the carrot has grown right through it.”

  Fraulein Aennchen took the ring off the carrot, and it was strange how the carrot suddenly slipped through her fingers and disappeared in the ground. But neither she nor the maid paid much heed to this circumstance, being lost in admiration of the beautiful ring, which the young lady immediately put on the little finger of the right hand without more ado. As she did so, she felt a stinging pain all the way up her finger, from the root to the tip; but this pain went away again as quickly as it had come.

  Of course she told her father, at midday, all about this strange adventure at the carrot bed, and showed him the beautiful ring which had been sticking upon the carrot. She was going to take it off so that he might examine it better, but felt the same kind of stinging pain as when she put it on. And this pain lasted all the time she was trying to get it off, so that she had to give up trying. Herr Dapsul scanned the ring upon her finger with the most careful attention. He made her stretch her finger out, and describe with it all sorts of circles in all directions. After which he fell into a profound meditation, and went up into his tower without uttering a syllable. Aennchen heard him giving vent to a very considerable amount of groaning and sighing as he went.

  Next morning, when she was chasing the big cock about the yard (he was bent on all manner of mischief, and was skirmishing particularly with the pigeons), Herr Dapsul began lamenting so fearfully down from the tower through the speaking trumpet that she cried up to him through her closed hand, “Oh papa dear, what are you making such a terrible howling for? The fowls are all going out of their wits.”

  Herr Dapsul hailed down to her through the speaking trumpet, saying, “Anna, my daughter Anna, come up here to me immediately.”

  Fraulein Aennchen was much astonished at this command, for her papa had never in all his life asked her to go into the tower, but rather had kept the door of it carefully shut. As a result she was conscious of a certain sense of anxiety as she climbed the narrow winding stair, and opened the heavy door which led into its one room. Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau was seated upon a large armchair of singular form, surrounded by curious instruments and dusty books. Before him was a kind of stand, upon which there was a paper stretched in a frame, with a number of lines drawn upon it. He had on a tall pointed cap, a wide mantle of grey calimanco, and on his chin a long white beard, so that he had quite the appearance of a magician. On account of his false beard Aennchen didn’t know him a bit just at first, and looked curiously about to see if her father were hidden away in some corner; but when she saw that the man with the beard on was really papa, she laughed most heartily, and asked if it was Yule-time, and he was going to act Father Christmas.

  Paying no heed to this enquiry, Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau took a small tool of iron in his hand, touched Aennchen’s forehead with it, and then stroked it along her right arm several times, from the armpit to the tip of the little finger. While this was going on, she had to sit in the armchair which he had quitted, and to lay the finger which had the ring upon it on the paper which was in the frame, in such a position that the topaz touched the central point where all the lines came together. Yellow rays immediately shot out from the topaz all round, colouring the paper all over with deep yellow light. Then the lines went flickering and crackling up and down, and the little figures which were on the ring seemed to be jumping merrily about all over the paper. Herr Dapsul, without taking his eyes from the paper, had taken hold of a thin plate of some metal, which he held up high over his head with both arms, and was proceeding to press it down upon the paper; but before he could do so his foot slipped on the smooth stone floor, and he fell, anything but softly, upon the sitting portion of his body; while the metal plate, which he had dropped in an instinctive attempt to break his fall, and save damage to his Os Coccygis, went clattering down upon the stones. Fräulein Aennchen awoke, with a gentle “Ah!” from a strange dreamy condition in which she had been. Herr Dapsul wi
th some difficulty raised himself, put the grey sugarloaf cap, which had fallen off, on again, arranged the false beard, and sat down opposite Aennchen upon a pile of folio volumes.

  “My daughter,” he said, “my daughter Anna; what were your sensations? Describe your thoughts, your feelings? What were the forms seen by the eye of the spirit within your inner being?”

  “Ah!” answered Anna, “ I was so happy; I never was so happy in all my life. And I thought of Amandus von Nebelstern. And I saw him quite plainly before my eyes, but he was much better-looking than he used to be. He was smoking a pipe of the Virginian tobacco that I sent him, and seemed to be enjoying it tremendously. Then all at once I felt a great appetite for young carrots with sausages; and lo and behold! there the dishes were before me, and I was just going to help myself to some when I woke up from the dream in a moment, with a sort of painful start.”

  “Amandus von Nebelstern, Virginia canaster, carrots, sausages,” quoth Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau to his daughter very reflectively. And he signed to her to stay where she was, for she was preparing to go away.

  “Happy is it for you, innocent child,” he began, in a tone much sadder than even his usual one, “that you are as yet not initiated into the profounder mysteries of the universe, and are unaware of the threatening perils which surround you. You know nothing of the supernatural science of the sacred cabbala. True, you will never partake of the celestial joy of those wise ones who, having attained the highest step, need never eat or drink except for their pleasure, and are exempt from human necessities. But then, you do not have to endure and suffer the pain of attainment to that step, like your unhappy father, who is still far more liable to attacks of mere human giddiness, to whom that which he laboriously discovers only causes terror and awe, and who is still, from purely earthly necessities, obliged to eat and drink and, in fact, submit to human requirements.