# Hoffmann's Strange Stories/Chapter 11

THE AGATE HEART.
Quite near the city of G——, coming from the south, may be seen a castle in the style of the middle age, which seems like a stone giant, to watch the road through the openings in a wood of pines that surrounds it. Behind this residence, is spread out a grand park all covered with shade and mystery. The solitude which reigns in the castle strikes a chill to your heart like the air from a tomb; and it is with difficulty that the old porter deigns to inform the curious traveller that this was the residence of the late counsellor of state Reutlinger.
The interior decoration of the castle recalls the paintings, arabesques, and all the strange caprices of the French artists of the time of Louis XIV. This fashion has even presided over the arrangement of the gardens, filled with artificial grottoes, suspended bridges, and currents of running water spread out in limpid streams on symmetrically cut lawns. At the end of the gardens, in a bower of weeping willows with untrimmed branches, rises a small Silesian marble monument, and in the middle of this kind of mourning piece is incrusted an agate heart veined withered lines. It might have been called a bleeding heart. On examining it nearer, these words engraved on the agate may be read; "Repose in peace!" Long before this inscription was engraved, and if my memory is good, the eighth day of September, in the year 180–, a man and a woman already far advanced in life contemplated this little monument.
​"My dear counsellor," said the old lady, "by what singular fancy have you been led to erect this mournful little tent under which, you say, your poor heart must repose some day in this agate covering?"
"Hush!" said the counsellor, pressing his companion's arm; "call my conduct fancy, mania, singularity; but remember that I have suffered much to arrive at the point of only finding repose near this image of death! Even you to whom I speak, oh Julia! Julia, do you not remember that you have caused me a cruel grief at the time when our hearts, both young, might have poured into each other so many flowers of hope, and such sweet fruits of love?"
At these words, the counsellor and the old lady exchanged a look full of emotion.—"It was not I, it was you yourself, Max, that was to blame," replied she. "If you had not remained so obstinately a fatalist, if you had not incessantly sought to create around you a thousand causes of inexpressible torment to heart and spirit, I should not have been forced to entrust my future peace to a man of less brilliancy than yourself, but who was endowed with peaceful qualities. Oh! Max, do not reproach me with not having sufficiently loved you! It was you alone, I repeat, who created your own grievances."
"It is true," said the counsellor, after a momentary silence. "I am forced to confess that my poor heart is incapable of affectionate outpourings; the imagination which controls it has dried up its fibres. No being can love me, for there is no longer anything sweet and sympathizing in me. Devotedness would wreck itself against my existence, as it would exhaust itself against this heart of stone!"
"And why this bitterness which excites you against yourself?" replied the old lady. "You who do good to all around you, and know how to administer consolation to the sufferings of others, how is it that you find no balm for your own afflictions? how is it that you unceasingly distrust your friends?"
​"Ah!" exclaimed the counsellor, striking his forehead, "it is because it has pleased God to give me a second sight which pierces the future, which guesses the clangers, and which only assists me I to foretell them at the price of continual anxiety! I believe that there is always near us an occult power opposed to our happiness, which seems wholly occupied in seducing and drawing us towards evils that cannot be remedied. I suffer and I wrestle, I am unhappy in the midst of my apparent happiness, as if I bore upon my forehead the mark of a Cain!"
"The same reflections still!" said the lady, sighing deeply. "But, tell me, dear counsellor, tell me, to change this lugubrious conversation, what has become of that young and charming child, the son of your younger brother, whom you received several years ago, with evidences of truly paternal affection?"
"I have driven him away," cried the counsellor; "he was a monster!"
"A monster! you do not mean it; a child six years old!"
"Yes," replied the counsellor; "you know the history of that brother of whom you speak; I have told you more than once the infamous tricks he has played upon me, and all the evil he has tried to do me in exchange for my many services. You know how it was that, plunged into extreme misery, thanks to his misconduct, he outwardly feigned towards me the most hypocritical actions, to make me believe in his repentance and gain my support! You know how he profited by his residence in my house to gain possession of certain documents——But it is useless to fatigue you with these details. The infamous man disappeared one day, to withdraw himself from the effects of my just resentment. I took charge of this child whom he had abandoned, and I only thought of preparing for his future a tranquil and honest destiny, when fate gave me notice in time to allow me to shake off this serpent that I was warming in my bosom."
"Nonsense," said the lady, "that was still another dream of your restless
​"You shall judge for yourself," continued the counsellor. "My mind, harassed by grief that nothing could soften. I had conceived the sad thought of having erected in this garden the monument that you now behold, and under which I wished my heart to repose when I should be no more. Well, one day when I had come to visit the workmen, I perceived this accursed child, who was named Max, like myself, playing with this agate heart, which he used like a ball in the game of ninepins. A sombre terror froze my soul. I saw in the childish act the presage of evils that he might cause me some day, and to cut short our relations, which no longer offered anything but distrust and danger, I ordered my steward to rid me of the presence of this little rascal. I know that he is in a safe place, but I will never consent to see him again during my life."
"What hard heartedness! what foolish vengeance for an imaginary wrong!" exclaimed the lady.—"Do not vex yourself, Julia," said the counsellor, bowing, "the blows of fate are of more importance than the imprudent sensibility of your sex." At these words the privy counsellor Reutlinger offered his hand to madame Foerd, and conducted her from the garden. A short time after this there was gathered within castle Ruetlinger a brilliant company invited to a triennial feast which the counsellor called the good old times festival. All the guests were expected to present themselves in the fashionable costume of the year 1760, with wigs extravagantly cued, laced coats, hooped dresses, and bird of paradise curls. It was a kind of carnival, the sight of which was very piquant.
Two young men, Ernest and Willibald, met in a distant walk in the garden. They looked at each other from head to foot, then burst into a loud laugh, as the result of the scrutiny of their respective physiognomies, under the accoutrement which they had borrowed from the counsellor's wardrobe.
"By my faith," said Willibald, who first regained his seriousness, "this worthy Ruetlinger's idea is not entirely with​out sense. Look and see if those beautiful ladies are not adorably coquettish under their feathers, which make them look like stage duchesses. It is enough under these wigs to make us improvise all the gallantries of the Pompadour school, so furiously popular in France. But see how charming that young girl is; that is Julia, madame Foerd's daughter. I know not what restrains me from making a flaming declaration to her, in a style at once ambiguous and delicate. I should say to her:—"Oh, dear friend! water which wears away marble in falling drop by drop,—the anvil which hardens as it receives the often repeated blows of the hammer,—the rays of the sun which——"
"Ah! may the devil take thee," interrupted Ernest; "thanks to thy extravagances, the beautiful Julia who was coming towards us, ran away at the sight of thee like a frightened gazelle. There is no doubt now that she imagines that we are passing our time in laughing at the ladies in general, and at herself in particular. She will go and put us under the ban of all feminine society!"
"Bah!" exclaimed Willibald, "it is well known that I have the reputation of an impudent coxcomb, and the young ladles are as wary of me as they would be of a dangerous demon; but, self-praise aside, I know the roads that lead to the heart in spite of all obstacles, and I have sure means of bringing people to me when I do not wish to make advances. Let us yield ourselves to joy, and let us congratulate our friend Reutlinger, whom I see coming this way in all his pomp and pride."
Thus chatting, the two friends proceeded to a lawn in front of the castle. A dozen persons, tired of the ceremony of acting parts that afforded them very little amusement, had hung their hats and wigs on the branches of some elder bushes, and were playing a game at tennis, which the grave counsellor himself had not refused to join. The players were suddenly interrupted in the game by a musical charivari; each one hastily resumed his wig and laced coat.—"What have we now?" ​said Ernest.—"That is a pretty question!" exclaimed Willibald. "I lay a wager that it is the arrival of the Turkish ambassador; it is thus they call, if you do not know it, the baron Exter, the funniest original who has ever, in the memory of man, walked under the heavenly vault. He was formerly ambassador to Constantinople, and to believe his own story, he has enacted in that country all the adventures, all the illusions of the Thousand and one Nights. He goes so far as to vaunt himself upon possessing the marvellous secrets of the great king Solomon, the patron of the charlatans who call themselves magicians. This baron Exter affects mystical actions which produce great effect upon simple people; and thanks to his grimaces he has gained great ascendancy over counsellor Reutlinger. Both are furious enthusiasts in the doctrines of Mesmer, and I present them to thee as visionaries such as are seldom seen."
Willibald had hardly finished this panegyric, when the ex-Turkish ambassador entered the garden. He was a kind of rotund little man dressed in the oriental costume, with the exception of an enormous wig. powdered and curled, and a pair of furred boots which he wore from private considerations of health. The people who accompanied him playing the fife and tambourine, were no less than his major domo and three or four of his upper servants, ail greased with a thick coat of black coloring matter, which gave them the appearance of Africans, and dressed in pointed caps like those worn by Spanish penitents.
The baron Exter leaned on the arm of an old officer who appeared to have been resuscitated from the seven years' war. This was general Rixendorf, military authority in the city of G——, who had muffled himself for this day's solemnity in his old uniform covered with gold lace.—"Salama Milek," said the counsellor to baron Exter, coming to meet him with open arms. The baron took his turban off to return the salutation of his worthy host and friend. At the same time something brilliant like a mannikin covered with gilded spangles, ​moved from behind a large cherry tree; this object represented the commercial counsellor Harscher in his official court dress.
He made his way through the assistants to come and offer his salutations to the Turkish ambassador, of whom he was one of the most enthusiastic admirers. This personage had resided in Italy during his youth, and he had come back with a musical mania, which rendered still more ridiculous his trembling falsetto, which he pretended to think was as capable of executing trills as master Farinelli's throat:
"I will lay a wager," said Ernest to his friend, "that Mr. Harscher has stuffed his pockets with cherries to offer to the ladies; but as the said pockets are lined with Spanish tobacco, I doubt if his odoriferous gallantries will meet with a cordial welcome."
The ambassador was received with great attention. The pretty Julia Foerd approached to kiss the general's hand with filial affection; but the ambassador immediately embraced her, kissing her on both cheeks, without being aware that by his sudden movement he was crushing counsellor Harscher's toes, who uttered the most painfully comical cries. Baron Exter drew the young girl aside, and began to chat with her, animating his conversation with the most impatient gestures.
"That joker is full of the evil one then?" said Ernest to his friend.—"I believe so," answered Willibald, "for although he is the young girl's god-father, I know that he has a hankering after her, and it might be that he has dangerous designs upon her."
Suddenly the ambassador stopped short in his conversation, extending his right hand before him, and cried out in his loudest voice: "Fetch it!"—"Good," said Willibald, "this babbler is telling for the thousandth time his story of the sea-dog. Now, you must know that the baron Exter occupied in Turkey a lofty marble palace on the shores of the Bosphorus. One day when he was walking in the gallery, he heard a piercing cry, he looked and saw by the water's side a Turkish ​woman whose little child had just been siezed by a large sea-dog. The poor mother in despair wrung her hands and wept. Exter ran to the beach, walked into the water until it reached his knees, threw out his arm and cried out:—"Fetch it!" The sea-dog immediately reappeared holding his prey in his mouth, and laid the child safe and sound at the feet of the enchanter; then plunged back into the waves, and Exter majestically entered his palace, without giving the good woman time to thank him."
Ernest received this tale with a homeric laugh.
"That is not all," added Willibald, who was desirous of telling the whole story. "Baron Exter, not content with this noble action, having learned that the mother of the child was the wife of a poor workman, who had been long disabled, sent her a considerable sum of money. The woman, in gratitude for so many benefits, came and begged of him to accept as a mark of her esteem a little sapphire ring which she wore upon her finger. Exter, believing this gift of very little value, only accepted it in order not to offend by his refusal the woman who so anxiously urged it upon him; but what was his joy when, shortly after, he examined this ring, he decyphered, thanks to his scientific knowledge, Arabic characters whose interpretation apprised him that he was the fortunate possessor of the magic ring which the great Ali used to call the doves of Mahomet, with whom he often had conversations in the language of the other world."
"Here are certainly great marvels," said Ernest, "but let us go and find out what is going on down there in that circle, where the curious are standing on tip-toe to see something that is probably very interesting."
On approaching the group, the two friends distinguished in the midst of it a little woman who looked like a Bohemian, four feet high at most, with a head like a pumpkin, and who was jumping and turning about with a strange velocity, singing in a nasal tone; "Guide your fold, shepherdess!"
"Wouldst thou believe," said Willibald, "that this shortened ​being is the sister of the beautiful Julia Foerd? What a mystification of nature!"
This spectacle was sad and ridiculous; the two friends left it in order not to spoil their joy by reflections too philosophical; besides, the prelude to the concert called them to another part of the garden. Reutlinger had taken a violin on which he very skilfully played a sonata from Corelli, with an accompaniment on the harpsichord by general Bixendorf, and another instrument by master Harscher. Then madame Foerd sang an Italian romance by Anfossi, in the midst of which the door of the pavilion in which the concert was going on was suddenly opened. A good looking young man made his way through the audience, and, falling at the feet of general Rixendorf, exclaimed in a broken voice:—"Oh! general, I owe you my safety! how can I ever repay you?" The general appeared to be very much embarrassed by this scene; he raised the young man, drew him quickly behind a hedge, and tried to calm his excitement. Everybody's curiosity was very much excited by this adventure; they had all recognized the young man as counsellor Foerd's secretary, and every eye was turned inquiringly towards him; but he was gravely taking a pinch of snuff, and talking French with his lady. Meanwhile the Turkish ambassador could not restrain his curiosity, and having asked for an explanation, the counsellor contented himself with replying that he could not guess what had inspired young Max with the idea of offering this affront.
Then, to avoid further questioning, he left the pavilion, and Willibald immediately followed after him.
The Foerd family was composed of three young ladies, who did not imitate the indifference of their father. The ugly Nanette agitated her fan and accused the young man of incivility. Julia had retired into a corner, where she seemed to avoid observation and hide her blushes. As for miss Clementine, she was talking sentiment with a young and handsome nobleman, who seemed to listen to her whilst eyeing ​the refreshments that were being brought by a servant.—Willibald reëntered; all the guests pressed around him, stretching out their necks and multiplying all the monosyllables which constitute a question. Ernest's friend, whilst answering that he knew nothing about it, assumed a cunning look, as much as to say—"I have found out all about it." Finally, as he was closely pressed, "Gentlemen," said he, "if you absolutely require that I confide this secret to you in public, allow me before doing so to put two or three important questions to the company. Young Max, counsellor Foerd's secretary, has he not always appeared to you endowed with many brilliant qualities?"
"Without any doubt," exclaimed the ladies unanimously. "His studiousness, his laborious assiduity are they not notable?"
"Agreed!" said the men.—"Is he not finally what is called a promising young man, of good social qualities, and of the happiest character?" There was but one cry of affirmation.—"Well then, listen," continued Willibald. "A short time ago a young master tailor was celebrating his betrothal. John, the favorite servant of counsellor Foerd, was looking through the windows at what was passing in the ball room.—Suddenly he perceived Henrietta, a young girl whom he loved. Beside himself with love and jealousy, he ran home, put on his best livery, and presented himself at the ball room door. They did not refuse to allow him to enter, but they imposed this cruel condition upon him, that any journeyman tailor should have the right to invite before him any lady that he might choose to dance with, which obliged the poor devil to content himself with ladies that no one cared about. Henrietta was invited and accepted; John, in a rage, knocked her partner down and beat a number of the dancers who tried to put him out; but he was obliged to yield to force, for they all united to throw him out of doors. Max was passing by in the street at this moment, and delivered John from the police who had been attracted by the noise, and were about ​to drag him to prison. But he could not succeed in calming the exasperation of the furious John, except by promising to exert himself to avenge his affront.
Now, this is what happened: Max the next day took a large sheet of paper, and with a small pencil brush and a little India ink he drew a magnificent goat. This goat appeared to be bringing into the world an infinity of little tailors armed with the tools of their trade, and scrambling as best they could, in the most grotesque positions. At the bottom of this caricature he wrote an inscription of rather loose character, which I should have some difficulty in remembering—"
"Spare yourself the trouble!" exclaimed the ladies.
"I will go on then," continued the jovial Willibald.—"Max gave his drawing to John. John ran and stuck it up on the door of the inn where the tailors go to take their meals. All the loafers in the neighborhood collected around it, and the tailors could no longer show themselves in the street without being saluted from all sides. They sought for the author of this criminal joke, which had very nearly occasioned a serious riot, and they talked of putting Max into prison for safe keeping. The poor secretary, after having vainly consulted twenty lawyers, went to the house of his protector, General Rixendorf.
The general received Max kindly, and said to him:—"My friend, you have done a foolish thing, but the caricature is excellent; there is something original and spontaneous in its composition, but the idea is not new, and that is what will save from all pursuit." Saying this, the general searched an old portfolio, and drew from it an old tobacco pouch—on which the caricature of Max was almost wholly and exactly represented. Max took the tobacco pouch, and, by the advice of the general, went before the judges and thus spoke to them:—"Gentlemen, I never had the intention of offending the honorable corporation of tailors; my drawing is nothing but a copy, the original of which you will see on this old tobacco pouch which belongs to general Rixendorf. This work has ​been stolen from me by some malicious individual, whom I regret not being acquainted with, as I consider that he merits punishment. Besides, I defy any one to allege the least motive that could have induced me to play this trick on the venerable corporation to which the plaintiffs belong." Now, as the former conduct of Max was found irreproachable, he was acquitted without costs. This is what caused so lately his joy and the expression of his gratitude.
All were not satisfied with this anecdote, which had the appearance of a crude mystification of Willibald's own invention. But counsellor Reutlinger having given the signal for the opening of the ball, the music from the orchestra drowned all conversation; each one placed himself so as to figure as advantageously as possible, and the adventure of Max was forgotten.
The following day was to see the amusements renewed.—But when the assembled guests only awaited the counsellor to commence the festival, cries of anguish were heard, and servants came from the garden, bearing poor Reutlinger in their arms: they had found him insensible not far from the sepulchral monument which he had constructed in the bower of weeping willows. They administered ether and the strongest restoratives to him without effect, for nothing seemed to reanimate him, when suddenly the Turkish ambassador cried out:—"Stop there, stop there, bunglers that you are! Let me manage this!" And immediately throwing his turban far away from him, together with his wig, he commenced making singular motions with his hands around the counsellor, approaching gradually nearer the region of the stomach; he then blew his breath in Reutlinger's face, who after ten minutes of this manipulation opened his eyes, and murmured in a feeble voice:—"Exter, why have you awakened me? an infernal power has revealed to me my near death, and I was perhaps about to pass from life without suffering."
"Pooh! pooh! thy hour has not yet come," said baron Exter; "drive away these foolish ideas; thou art surrounded ​by joyful living beings, who will not allow you to quit this world without the sound of drums and trumpet."
"No," said Reutlinger, groaning, "no, my friend, I do not deceive myself concerning my position. I am sure that I am nearing my end, and that my days will terminate with some frightful misfortune."
"But," exclaimed general Rixendorf, pressing his hand, "what has happened? from whence come these terrors which nothing can justify?"
"Listen," answered the counsellor, wiping his pale forehead, which was bathed in a cold perspiration. "I was passing along just now towards the bower of weeping willows; it seemed to me, on approaching it, that a plaintive voice struck upon my ear. I advanced with emotion, and what did I perceive? I shudder with horror at the remembrance of it, I found myself before another myself! Yes, myself, as I appeared thirty years ago, clothed in the same dress that I wore on that day; that when I was about to end my desperate life by suicide, I saw my beloved Julia appear in all the brilliancy of a heavenly beauty. Well, a short time ago this scene was offered vividly to my eyes. An unnatural coldness pervaded my veins, and I fell to the earth insensible."
"What ghost story are you telling us?" exclaimed Rixendorf. "It must be, my poor friend, that your brain is very sick, to entertain such visions: try to vanquish these hallucinations, and amuse yourself; your soul is pegged into your body, and you are likely, in spite of your fits of hypochondria, to bury us all. Besides, I will explain to you in a moment the little reality there is in the dream which has so strongly moved you." Saying these words, the general went out of the room as fast as his old legs would allow. The Turkish ambassador approached Reutlinger and said:—"The dear old general does not believe in the power of the magnetic fluid; he is an obstinate materialist; but we know, you and I, what to think on the subject of apparitions."
Counsellor Foerd's wife soon came in, escorted by her hus​band and Miss Julia. The counsellor Reutlinger then arose from his chair, with the assurance that he felt perfectly restored. As the company were about quitting the saloon to take a walk, the door opened, and Rixendorf appeared, accompanied by young Max in military costume. Reutlinger, at the sight of him, was seized with a nervous shuddering.—"There is thy trouble and thy resemblance, my old friend," said Rixendorf, pushing Max into the counsellor's arm. "It is Max whom thou hast met in the bower, clothed in a costume from thy wardrobe, under which I wished him to rëenter this castle, where his early childhood was passed. Oh, obdurate and pitiless uncle, who has chased from thy fireside, under the influence of an accursed superstition, thy brother's son, I now give back to thee in the place of the child whom thou hatest, an accomplished young man, ready to love thee like a son. Come, let this heart yield for once to the sweet sentiments of life; banish the phantoms which possess thy brain, in order to see life under consoling aspects. Nothing but love can render us happy here below!"
Reutlinger was under the influence of a nervous crisis; his features changed, and his lips seemed to breathe away what life remained in him; his wandering eyes were fixed by turns on Max and Rixendorf with an indefinable expression of anger. At a sign from the general, Max spoke:—"Dear uncle," said he, "have you not repulsed me long enough from your bosom? Will you condemn me to bear until death the weight of the aversion that you had conceived for my unfortunate father? If he was ungrateful to you, his sufferings have well avenged you. I saw him expire on a bed of misery; with his last breath he spoke to me of you, and supplicated me be reconcile you to his memory by becoming your son, the most tender and devoted prop of your age. Do not reject his last desire; have not a heart of stone, for God would curse you for it!"
Max fell at the counsellor's feet, and Julia Foerd knelt at the same time and covered his hands with tears and kisses, ​The secret of the love existing between these two young people was then known for the first time. This touching spectacle softened Reutlinger; he sobbed aloud; then a torrent of tears eased his overcharged breast.—"Powers of heaven," exclaimed he, "holy affections whose teachings I have despised, you come to save me, you pluck me from the influence of invisible spirits, who were torturing and showing me unceasingly an abyss opening at my feet! Be blessed for the change which is taking place in me, for the relief that you bring me, promising the cure of the wounds in my heart. And thou, Max, my nephew,—my adopted son, and you Julia, you whom he loves, and who love him, press me to your loving hearts, so that I may no longer live except by your affection!"
All present were filled with emotion. Madame Foerd thought that she was dreaming; she no longer recognized the Reutlinger of former days. The marriage of Max and her daughter gave her great joy. President Foerd exhausted his snuff-box with visible satisfaction. Julia's sisters were sought for to learn the news of this event; the other guests were about to congratulate the young couple on their approaching happiness, when the Turkish ambassador stepped before them, took Max by the hand and said to him:—"Not so fast! Marriage ought to be the result of experience, and in spite of thy talents thou art at the commencement of youth as yet. You thrust your feet into trouble, you make caricatures, and you are not acquainted with the usages of society, in the midst of which you aspire to create a new family.—Your education, my boy, must be finished by travel. So then, if you please, be off to Constantinople; you will learn in that country many things that it is useful to know, and then you will be worthy and capable of marrying my pretty god-daughter."
The company exclaimed loudly against the advice given by baron Exter; but he having taken his friend Reutlinger aside, and whispered a few Arabic words in his ear, a decision was immediately given.
​"Go to Constantinople, my dear nephew; do me this favor, for which I shall be infinitely grateful; and at your return in six months, the wedding shall take place!"
Julia put on a very captivating little pout; but it was necessary, in spite of all, that Max should pack up his trunks, that he should go and visit the marble palaces on the Bosphorus, and perhaps many other places not less interesting.
Six months after this, the affianced lovers were married, but they wept in the willow bower; for counsellor Reutlinger had died of grief. His stony heart had broken, and on the agate heart placed in his monument, Max caused to be engraved these words:—"Repose in peace now and ever more!"
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