Ernst Hoffmann: Specimens of German Romance; Vol. II. Master Flea

By the time Pepusch had rubbed the powder from his eyes, the disgusting population of insects had vanished. The flea-tamer sate in his arm-chair quite exhausted.

"Leuwenhock!"–exclaimed Pepusch to him–"Leuwenhock, do you see now what comes of your trickeries? You have again been forced to have recourse to your vassals to keep the people's hands off you–Is it not so?"

"Is it you?" said the naturalist, in a faint voice–"Is it you, good Pepusch?–Ah! it is all over with me–clean over with me–I am a lost man! Pepusch, I begin to believe that you really meant it well with me, and that I have not done wisely in making light of your warnings."

Upon Pepusch's quietly asking what had happened, the flea-tamer turned himself round with his arm-chair to the wall, held both his hands before his face, and cried out piteously to Pepusch to take up a glass and examine the marble slab. Already, with the naked eye, Pepusch observed that the little soldiers, &c. lay there as if dead,–that nothing stirred any longer. The dexterous fleas appeared also to have taken another shape. But now, by means of the glass, Pepusch soon discovered that not a single flea was there, but what he had taken for them were nothing more than black pepper-corns and fruit-seeds that stood in their uniforms.

"I know not," began the flea-tamer, quite melancholy and overwhelmed,– "I know not what evil spirit struck me with blindness, that I did not perceive the desertion of my army till the people were at the table and prepared for the spectacle. You may imagine, Pepusch, how, on seeing themselves deceived, the visitors first murmured, and then blazed out into fury. They accused me of the vilest deceit, and, as they grew hotter and hotter, and would no longer listen to any excuses, they were falling upon me to take their own revenge. What could I do better, to shun a load of blows, than immediately set the great microscope into motion, and envelope the people in a cloud of insects, at which they were terrified, as is natural to them?"

"But," said Pepusch, "tell me how it could possibly happen that your well-disciplined troop, which had shown so much fidelity to you, could so suddenly take themselves off, without your perceiving it at once?"

"Oh!" cried the flea-tamer, "O, Pepusch! HE has deserted me!–He by whom alone I was master–He it is to whose treachery I ascribe all my blindness, all my misery!"

"Have I not," said Pepusch, "have I not long ago warned you not to place your reliance upon tricks which you cannot execute without the possession of the MASTER? and on how ticklish a point rests that possession, notwithstanding all your care, you have just now experienced."

Pepusch farther gave the flea-tamer to understand, that he could not at all comprehend how his being forced to give up these tricks could so much disturb his life, as the invention of the microscope, and his general dexterity in the preparation of microscopic glasses, had long ago established him. But the flea-tamer, on the other hand, maintained, that very different things lay hid in these subtleties, and that he could not give them up without giving up his whole existence. Pepusch interrupted him by asking, "Where is Dörtje Elverdink?"

"Where is she?" screamed Leuwenhock, wringing his hands–"where is Dörtje Elverdink?–Gone!–gone into the wide world!–vanished!–But strike me dead at once, Pepusch, for I see your wrath growing: make short work of it with me!"

"There you see now," said Pepusch, with a gloomy look–"you see now what comes of your folly, of your absurd proceedings. Who gave you a right to confine the poor Dörtje like a slave, and then again, merely for the sake of alluring people, to make a show of her like some wonder of natural history? Why did you put a force upon her inclinations, and not allow her to give me her hand, when you must have seen how dearly we loved each other?–Fled, is she? Well then, she is no longer in your power; and although I do not at this moment know where to seek for her, yet am I convinced that I shall find her. There, Leuwenhock, put on your wig again, and submit to your destiny; that is the best thing you can do."

The flea-tamer arranged his wig on his bald head with his left hand, while with his right he caught Pepusch by the arm, exclaiming–

"Pepusch, you are my real friend, for you are the only man in the whole city of Frankfort, who know that I lie buried in the old church at Delft, since the year seventeen hundred and twenty-five, and yet have not betrayed it to any one,–even when you were angry with me on account of Dörtje Elverdink. If at times I cannot exactly get it into my head that I am actually that Anton van Leuwenhock, who lies buried at Delft, yet again I must believe it, when I consider my works, and reflect upon my life; and on that account it is very agreeable to me that it is not at all spoken of. I now see, my dear Pepusch, that, in regard to Dörtje Elverdink, I have not acted rightly, although in a very different way from what you may well imagine–that is, I was right in pronouncing your suit to be an idle struggle,–wrong, in not being open with you, in not telling you the real circumstances of Dörtje Elverdink; you would then have seen how praiseworthy it was to talk you out of wishes, the accomplishment of which could not be other than destructive. Pepusch, sit down by me, and hear a wonderful history."

"That I am likely to do," replied Pepusch with a malicious glance, sitting down in an armchair, opposite the flea-tamer, who thus began:

"As you are well versed, my dear friend, in history, you know, beyond doubt, that King Sekakis lived for many years in intimate intercourse with the Flower-Queen, and that the beautiful Princess Gamaheh was the fruit of this passion. But it is not so well known, nor can I tell you, in what way the Princess Gamaheh came to Famagusta. Many maintain, and not without reason, that the princess wished to conceal herself there from the odious Leech-Prince, the sworn enemy of the Flower-Queen. Be this as it may,–it happened once in Famagusta, that the princess was walking in the cool freshness of the evening, and chanced upon a pleasant cypress-grove. Allured by the delightful sighings of the evening breeze, the murmurs of a brook, and the soft music of the birds, she stretched herself upon the moss, and quickly fell into a sound slumber. At this moment, the very enemy whom she had been so anxious to escape lifted his head out of the marshes, beheld the princess, and became so violently enamoured of the fair sleeper, that he could not resist an inclination to kiss her; and, creeping forward, he kissed her under the left ear. Now you know, friend Pepusch, that, when the Leech-Prince sets about kissing a fair one, she is lost, for he is the vilest bloodsucker in the world. So it happened on this occasion: the Leech-Prince kissed the poor Gamaheh so long, that all life left her, when he fell back gorged and intoxicated upon the moss, and was forced to be carried home by his servants, who hastily rolled out of their marshes. In vain the root mandragora toiled out of the earth, and laid itself upon the wound inflicted by the treacherous kisses of the Leech-Prince; in vain all the other flowers arose and joined in his lamentations: she was dead. Just then it happened that the genius, Thetel, was passing, and he too was deeply moved by Gamaheh's beauty and her unlucky end. He took her in his arms, pressed her to his breast, and endeavoured to breathe new life into her; but still she awoke not from the sleep of death. Now, too, the genius perceived the odious prince,–who was so drunk and unwieldly that his servants had not been able to get him into his palace,–fell into a violent rage, and threw a whole handful of rock-salt upon him, at which he poured forth again all the purple blood which he had drawn from the princess, and then gave up his spirit in a wretched manner, amidst the most violent convulsions. All the flowers that stood around dipped their vestments in this ichor, and stained them, in perpetual remembrance of the murdered princess, with so bright a purple, that no painter on earth can imitate it. You know, Pepusch, that the most beautiful pinks and hyacinths grow in that cypress-grove where the Leech-Prince kissed to death the fair Gamaheh.