In other words, Flemming was in a ragingfever, and delirious17. He remained in this state for a week. The first thing he was conscious of was hearing the doctor say to Berkley;
"The crisis is passed. I now consider him out of danger."
He then fell into a sweet sleep; the wild fever had swept away like an angry, red cloud, and the refreshing18 summer rain began to fall like dew upon the parched19 earth. Still another week; and Flemming was, "sitting clothed, and in his right mind." Berkley had been reading to him; and still held the book in his hand, with his fore-finger between the leaves. It was a volume of Hoffmann's writings.
"How very strange it is," said he, "that you can hardly open the biography of any German author, but you will find it begin with an account of his grandfather. It will tell you how the venerable old man walked up and down the garden among the gay flowers, wrapped in his morning gown, which is likewise covered with flowers, and perhaps wearing on his head a little velvet cap. Oryou will find him sitting by the chimney-corner in the great chair, smoking his ancestral pipe, with shaggy eyebrows20 and eyes like birdsnests under the eaves of a house, and a mouth like a Nuremberg nutcracker's. The future poet climbs upon the old man's knees. His genius is not recognised yet. He is thought for the most part a dull boy. His father is an austere21 man, or perhaps dead. But the mother is still there, a sickly, saint-like woman, with knitting-work, and an elder sister, who has already been in love, and wears rings on her fingers;--
Her grandmother and worm-eaten aunts left to her,
To tell her what her beauty must arrive at.' "
"No, not precisely24. Instead of the grandfather we have the grandmother, a stately dame25, who has long since shaken hands with the vanities of life. The mother, separated from her husband, is sick in mind and body, and flits to and fro, like a shadow. Then there is an affectionate maiden26 aunt; and an uncle, a retired27 judge, the terror of little boys,--the Giant Despair of this Doubting Castle in Koenigsberg; and occasionally the benign28 countenance29 of a venerable grand-uncle, whom Lamotte Fouqué called a hero of the olden time in morning gown and slippers30, looks in at the door and smiles. In the upper story of the same house lived a poor boy with his mother, who was so far crazed as to believe herself to be the Virgin31 Mary, and her son the Saviour32 of the world. Wild fancies, likewise, were to sweep through the brain of that child. He was to meet Hoffmann elsewhere and be his friend in after years, though as yet they knew nothing of each other. This was Werner, who has made some noise in German literature as the author of many wild Destiny-Dramas."
"Hoffmann died, I believe, in Berlin."
"Yes. He left Koenigsberg at twenty years of age, and passed the next eight years of his life in the Prussian-Polish Provinces, where he held some petty office under government; and took to himselfmany bad habits and a Polish wife. After this he was Music-Director at various German theatres, and led a wandering, wretched life for ten years. He then went to Berlin as Clerk of the Exchange, and there remained till his death, which took place some seven or eight years afterward33."
"Did you ever see him?"
"I was in Berlin during his lifetime, and saw him frequently. I shall never forget the first time. It was at one of the æsthetic Teas, given by a literary lady Unter den2 Linden, where the lions were fed with convenient food, from tea and bread and butter, up to oysters34 and Rhine-wine. During the evening my attention was arrested by the entrance of a strange little figure, with a wild head of brown hair. His eyes were bright gray; and his thin lips closely pressed together with an expression of not unpleasing irony35. This strangelooking personage began to bow his way through the crowd, with quick, nervous, hinge-like motions, much resembling those of a marionette36. He had a hoarse37 voice, and such a rapid utterance38, that although I understood German well enough for ordinary purposes, I could not understand one half he said. Ere long he had seated himself at the piano-forte, and was improvising39 such wild, sweet fancies, that the music of one's dreams is not more sweet and wild. Then suddenly some painful thought seemed to pass over his mind, as if he imagined, that he was there to amuse the company. He rose from the piano-forte, and seated himself in another part of the room; where he began to make grimaces40, and talk loud while others were singing. Finally he disappeared, like a hobgoblin, laughing, 'Ho! ho! ho!' I asked a person beside me who this strange being was. 'That was Hoffmann,' was the answer. 'The Devil!' said I. 'Yes,' continued my informant; 'and if you should follow him now, you would see him plunge41 into an obscure and unfrequented wine-cellar, and there, amid boon42 companions, with wine and tobacco-smoke, and quirks43 and quibbles, and quaint44, witty45 sayings, turn the dim night into glorious day.' "
"What a strange being!"
"I once saw him at one of his night-carouses. He was sitting in his glory, at the head of the table; not stupidly drunk, but warmed with wine, which made him madly eloquent46, as the Devil's Elixir47 did the Monk Medardus. There, in the full tide of witty discourse48, or, if silent, his gray, hawk49 eye flashing from beneath his matted hair, and taking note of all that was grotesque50 in the company round him, sat this unfortunate genius, till the day began to dawn. Then he found his way homeward, having, like the souls of the envious51 in Purgatory52, his eyelids53 sewed together with iron wire;--though his was from champagne54 bottles. At such hours he wrote his wild, fantastic tales. To his excited fancy everything assumed a spectral55 look. The shadows of familiar things about him stalked like ghosts through the haunted chambers56 of his soul; and the old portraits on the walls winked57 at him, and seemed stepping down from their frames; till, aghast at the spectral throng58 about him, he would call his wife from her bed, to sit by him while he wrote."
"No wonder he died in the prime of life!"
"No. The only wonder is, that he could have followed this course of life for six years. I am astonished that it did not kill him sooner."
"Yes; his forty-sixth birth day found him sitting at home in his arm-chair, with his friends around him. But the rare old wine,--he always drank the best,--touched not the sick-man's lips that night. His wonted humor was gone. Of all his 'jibes61, his gambols62, his songs, his flashes of merriment, that were wont60 to set the table on a roar, not one now, to mock his own grinning!--quite chap-fallen.'--The conversation was of death and the grave. And when one of his friends said, that life was not the highest good, Hoffmann interrupted him, exclaiming with a startling earnestness; 'No, no! Life, life, only life! on any condition whatsoever63!' Five months after this he had ceased to suffer, because he had ceased to live. He died piecemeal64. His feet and hands, his legs and arms, gradually, and in succession, became motionless, dead. But his spirit was not dead, nor motionless; and, through the solitary65 day or sleepless66 night, lying in his bed, he dictated67 to an amanuensis his last stories. Strange stories, indeed, were they for a dying man to write! Yet such delight did he take in dictating68 them, that he said to his friend Hitzig, that, upon the whole, he was willing to give up forever the use of his hands, if he could but preserve the power of writing by dictation. Such was his love of life,--of what he called the sweet habitude of being!"
"Was it not he, who in his last hours expressed such a longing69 to behold70 the green fields once more; and exclaimed; 'Heaven! it is already summer, and I have not yet seen a single green tree!' "
"Yes, that was Hoffmann. Soon afterwards he died. The closing scene was striking. He gradually lost all sensation, though his mind remained vigorous. Feeling no more pain, he said to his physician; 'It will soon be over now. I feel no more pain.' He thought himself well again; but the physician knew that he was dying, and said; 'Yes, it will soon be over!' The next morning he called his wife to his bed-side; and begged her to fold his motionless hands together. Then, as he raised his eyes to heaven, she heard him say, 'We must, then, think of God, also!' More sorrowful words than these have seldom fallen from the lips of man. Shortly afterwards the flame of life glared up within him; he said he was well again; that in the evening he should go on with the story he was writing; and wished that the last sentence might be read over to him. Shortly after this they turned his face to the wall, and he died."
"And thus passed to its account a human soul, after much self-inflicted suffering. Let us tread lightly upon the poet's ashes. For my part, I confess, that I have not the heart to take him from the general crowd of erring71, sinful men, and judge him harshly. The little I have seen of the world, and know of the history of mankind, teaches me to look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not inanger. When I take the history of one poor heart that has sinned and suffered, and represent to myself the struggles and temptations it has passed,--the brief pulsations of joy,--the feverish72 inquie-tude of hope and fear,--the tears of regret,--the feebleness of purpose,--the pressure of want,--the desertion of friends,--the scorn of a world that has little charity,--the desolation of the soul's sanctuary,--and threatening voices within,--health gone,--happiness gone,--even hope, that stays longest with us, gone,--I have little heart for aught else than thankfulness, that it is not so with me, and would fain leave the erring soul of my fellow-man with Him, from whose hands it came,
'even as a little child,
Weeping and laughing in its childish sport.' "
"You are right. And it is worth a student's while to observe calmly how tobacco, wine, and midnight did their work like fiends upon the delicate frame of Hoffmann; and no less thoroughly73 upon his delicate mind. He who drinks beer, thinks beer; and he who drinks wine, thinks wine;--and he who drinks midnight, thinks midnight. He was a man of rare intellect. He was endowed with racy humor and sarcastic74 wit, and a glorious imagination. But the fire of his genius burned not peacefully, and with a steady flame, upon the hearth75 of his home. It was a glaring and irregular flame;--for the branches that he fed it with, were not branches from the Tree of Life,--but from another tree that grew in Paradise,--and they were wet with the unhealthy dews of night, and more unhealthy wine; and thus, amid smoke and ashes the fire burned fitfully, and went out with a glare, which leaves the beholder76 blind."
"This fire within him was a Meleager's fire-brand; and, when it burned out, he died. And, as you say, marks of all this are clearly visible in Hoffmann's writings. Indeed, when I read his strange fancies, it is with me, as when in the summer night I hear the rising wind among the trees, and the branches bow, and beckon77 with their long fingers, and voices go gibbering and mockingthrough the air. A feeling of awe78 and mysterious dread79 comes over me. I wish to hear the sound of living voice or footstep near me,--to see a friendly and familiar face. In truth, if it be late at night, the reader as well as the writer of these unearthly fancies, would fain have a patient, meek-eyed wife, with her knitting-work, at his elbow."
Berkley smiled; but Flemming continued without noticing the smile, though he knew what was passing in the mind of his friend;
"The life and writings of this singular being interest me in a high degree. Oftentimes one may learn more from a man's errors, than from his virtues80. Moreover, from the common sympathies of our nature, souls that have struggled and suffered are dear to me. Willingly do I recognise their brotherhood81. Scars upon their foreheads do not so deform82 them, that they cease to interest. They are always signs of struggle; though alas83! too often, likewise, of defeat. Seasons of unhealthy, dreamy, vague delight, are followed by seasons ofweariness and darkness. Where are then the bright fancies, that, amid the great stillness of the night, arise like stars in the firmament84 of our souls? The morning dawns, the light of common day shines in upon us, and the heavens are without a star! From the lives of such men we learn, that mere85 pleasant sensations are not happiness;--that sensual pleasures are to be drunk sparingly, and, as it were, from the palm of the hand; and that those who bow down upon their knees to drink of these bright streams that water life, are not chosen of God either to overthrow86 or to overcome!"
"I think you are very lenient87 in your judgment88. This is not the usual defect of critics. Like Shakspeare's samphire-gatherer, they have a dreadful trade! and, to make the simile89 complete, they ought to hang for it!"
"Methinks it would be hard to hang a man for the sake of a simile. But which of Hoffmann's works is it, that you have in your hand?"
"His Phatasy-Pieces in Callot's manner. Who was this Callot?"
"He was a Lorrain painter of the seventeenth century, celebrated90 for his wild and grotesque conceptions. These sketches91 of Hoffmann are imitations of his style. They are full of humor, poetry, and brilliant imagination."
"And which of them shall I read to you? The Ritter Glück; or the Musical Sufferings of John Kreisler; or that very exquisite92 story of the Golden Jar, wherein is depicted93 the life of Poesy, in this common-place world of ours?"
"Read the shortest. Read Kreisler. That will amuse me. It is a picture of his own sufferings at the æsthetic Teas in Berlin, supposed to be written in pencil on the blank leaves of a music-book."
Thereupon Berkley leaned back in his easychair, and read as follows.
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1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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mementos
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| 纪念品，令人回忆的东西( memento的名词复数 ) | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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marionette
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| n.木偶 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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improvising
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| 即兴创作（improvise的现在分词形式） | |
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grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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quirks
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| n.奇事，巧合( quirk的名词复数 )；怪癖 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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49
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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50
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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51
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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53
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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54
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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55
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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56
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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jibes
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| n.与…一致( jibe的名词复数 )；（与…）相符；相匹配v.与…一致( jibe的第三人称单数 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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77
beckon
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| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
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78
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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79
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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80
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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81
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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82
deform
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| vt.损坏…的形状；使变形，使变丑；vi.变形 | |
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83
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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84
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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85
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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86
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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87
lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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88
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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89
simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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90
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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91
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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92
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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93
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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