Category Archives: Hoffmann


E.T.A. Hoffmann: “The Fire-Lily”

From Thomas Carlyle’s “German Romance: Specimens of its Chief Authors; with Biographical and Critical Notices.” Vol. II, 1827. Excerpt: “The Golden Pot” by E.T. A. Hoffmann.

jThe Fire-Lily

The Spirit looked upon the water, and the water moved itself, and chafed in foaming billows, and plunged thundering down into the Abysses, which opened their black throats, and greedily swallowed it. Like triumphant conquerors, the granite Rocks lifted their cleft peaky crowns, protecting the Valley, till the Sun took it into its paternal bosom, and clasping it with its beams as with growing arms, cherished it and warmed it.

Then a thousand germs, which had been sleeping under the desert sand, awoke from their deep slumber, and stretched out their little leaves and stalks toward the Sun their father’s face; and the smiling infants in green cradles, the flowrets rested in their buds and blossoms, til they too, awakened by their father, decked themselves in lights, which their father, to please them, tinted in a thousand varied hues.

But in the midst of the Valley was a black Hill, which heaved up and down like the breast of man when warm longing swells it. From the Abysses mounted steaming vapours, and rolled themselves together into huge masses, striving malignantly to hide the father’s face: but he called the Storm to him, which rushed thither, and scattered them away; and when the pure sunbeam rested again on the bleak Hill, there started from it, in the excess of its rapture, a glorious Fire-Lily, opening its fair leaves like gentle lips to receive the kiss of its father.

And now came a gleaming Splendour into the Valley; it was the youth Phosphorus; the Lily saw him, and begged, being seized with warm longing love: “Be mine for ever, fair youth! For I love thee, and must die if thou forsake me!” Then spake the youth Phosphorus: “I will be thine, thou fair flower; but then wilt thou, like a naughty child, leave father and mother; thou wilt know thy playmates no longer, wilt strive to be greater and stronger than all that now rejoices with thee as thy equal.

The longing which now beneficently warms thy whole being, will be scattered into a thousand rays, and torture and vex thee; for sense will bring forth senses; and the highest rapture, which the Spark I cast into thee kindles, will be the hopeless pain wherein thou shalt perish, to spring up anew in foreign shape. This spark is Thought!”

“Ah!” mourned the Lily, “Can I not be thine in this glow, as it now burns in me; not still be thine? Can I love then more than now; could I look on thee as now, if thou wert to annihilate me?” Then the youth Phosphorus kissed the Lily; and as if penetrated with light, it mounted up in flame, out of which issued a foreign Being, that hastily flying from the Valley, roved forth into endless Space, no longer heeding its old playmates, or the youth it had loved.

This youth mourned for his lost beloved; for he too loved her, it was love to the fair Lily that had brought him to the lone Valley; and the granite Rocks bent down their heads in participation of his grief.

But one of these opened its bosom, and there came a black-winged Dragon flying out of it, and said: “My brethren, the Metals are sleeping in there; but I am always brisk and waking, and will help thee.”

Dashing up and down on its black pinions, the Dragon at last caught the Being which had sprung from the Lily; bore it to the Hill, and encircled it with his wing; then was it the Lily again; but Thought, which continued with it, tore asunder its heart; and its love for the youth Phosphorus was a cutting pain, before which, as if breathed on by poisonous vapours, the flowrets which had once rejoiced in the fair Lily’s presence, faded and died.

The youth Phosphorus put on a glittering coat of mail, sporting with the light in a thousand hues, and did battle with the Dragon, who struck the cuirass with his black wing, till it rung and sounded; and at this loud clang the flowrets again came to life, and like variegated birds fluttered round the Dragon, whose force departed; and who, thus being vanquished, hid himself in the depths of the Earth.

The Lily was freed; the youth Phosphorus clasped her, full of warm longing, of heavenly love; and in triumphant chorus, the flowers, the birds, nay even the high granite Rocks, did reverence to her as the Queen of the Valley.”

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Heinrich Heine: The Romantic School

The Poets of Legend: Goethe. Schiller and … Heinrich Heine.A favorite among Lieder composers, Heine’s literary works comprise twenty volumes, Die Romantische Schule two of them. Published in French and German 1833-36; this translation by Charles Godfrey Leland. Below, the great Poet’s thoughts on Novalis and Hoffmann.
But what was the Romantic School in Germany? It was nothing else but the Reawakening of the Middle Ages … its songs, images and architecture, in art and in life.
I have little to say regarding Schelling’s relationship to the Romantic School. His influence was mostly personal, but since the Philosophy of Nature through him has sprung into life and into vogue, Nature has been much more intelligently grasped by poets. Some are absorbed with all their human feelings into Nature; others have noted certain magic forms by means of which something human can be made to look forth and speak from it. The former are the true mystics, and resemble in many respects the Indian devotees who sink into Nature, and at last begin to feel in common with it. The others are more like enchanters, who, by their own power of will, evoked even fiends; they are like the Arabian sorcerers, who could animate every stone, or petrify, as they pleased, every living being.
To the first of these belong Novalis; to the second, Hoffmann.
Novalis saw everywhere the marvelous,
And, in its loveliness and beauty,
He listened to the language of the plants;
He knew the secret
Of every young rose, he identified himself with all
Nature; and when the autumn came and
the leaves fell, he died.
Hoffmann, on the contrary, saw spectres everywhere; they nodded to him from every Chinese teapot and every Berlin wig; he was a magician who changed men into brutes, and these again into Royal Prussian court counselors. He could call the dead from their graves, but he repulsed life from himself like a dismal ghost. And thus he felt he himself had become a spectre; all Nature was to him like a badly-ground mirror, in which he, distorted in a thousand ways, saw only his own death mask, and his works are only one terrible cry of agony in twenty volumes.
Hoffmann did not belong to the Romantic School. He was in no way allied to the Schlegels, and still less to their tendencies. I only mention him here in opposition to Novalis, who was really a poet of that kind. Novalis is less well known in France than Hoffmann, whom Loeve-Veimars has placed before the public in such admirable form, and thereby attained such a reputation.
By us inGermany, Hoffmann is no longer in fashion, but once it was otherwise. Once he was very much read, but only by men whose nerves were too strong or too weak to be affected by soft accords. Men of true genius and poetic natures would hear nothing of him; they, by far, preferred Novalis.
But, honestly speaking, Hoffmann was, as a poet. far superior to Novalis, for the latter always sweeps in the air with his ideal forms, while Hoffmann, with all his odd imps, sticks to earthly reality. But as the giant Antaeus remained invincibly strong while his feet touched his mother earth, and lost his strength when Hercules raised him in the air, so is the poet strong and powerful so long as he does not leave the basis of reality, but becomes weak when whirling about in the blue air.
The great resemblance in these poets lies in this: That in both their poetry is really a malady, and in this relation it has been declared that judgment as to their works was the business of a physician rather than a critic. The rosy gleam in the glow of Novalis is not the glow of health; and the purple heat in Hoffmann’s Phantasiestücken is not the flame of genius but of fever.
But have we the right to make such remarks, we who are not blessed with excess of health, above all at present; when literature resembles a vast lazar-house? Or is it perhaps poetry is a disease of mankind, just as the pearl is only the material of a disease which the poor oyster suffers?
Novalis was born May 2, 1772. His real name was Hardenberg. He loved a young lady who suffered from and died of consumption. This sad story inspired all his writings; his life was a dreamy dying in consequence, and he himself died of consumption in 1801, before he had completed his twenty-ninth year, or his novel.
This work as it exists is only the fragment of a great allegorical poem, which, like “Divine Comedy” of Dante, was to treat earnestly all things of earth and heaven. Heinrich von Ofterdingen, the famous poet, is the hero.
We see him as a youth in Eisenach, the charming town which lies at the foot of old Wartburg, where the greatest and also the stupidest things have been done; that is, where Luther translated the Bible, and certain idiotic Teutomaniacs burned the Gendarme Code of Herr Kamptz. There too in that castle was held the greatest contest of minstrels where among other poets Heinrich von Ofterdingen sang in the dangerous contest with Klingsohr of Hungary, an account of which has been preserved in the Manesse collection. He who was vanquished was to lose his head, and the Landgrave ofThuringia was to be the judge. The Wartburg rises as with mysterious signification over the cradle of the hero, and the beginning of the novel shows him in the paternal home of Eisenach.
The parents are still sleeping, the hanging clock beats monotonously, the wind blows against the rattling windows; now and then the room is lighted by the rays of the moon. The youth lays restlessly on the couch, thinking of the stranger and of his tales.
“It was not the treasure,” he said to himself, “which awoke in me such unutterable desire; all covetousness is far from me; but I long to see the Blue Flower. It haunts me all the time, and I can think and fancy of nothing else.”
Heinrich von Ofterdingen begins with such words, and the Blue Flower sheds it light and breathes its perfume through the whole romance. It is marvelous and full of meaning that the most imaginary characters of this book seem to us as real as if we had known them long ago.
Old memories awaken. The Muse of Novalis was a slender snow-white maid with serious blue eyes, golden hyacinthine locks and smiling lips … and I imagine it was the same damsel – the Muse of Novalis – who made me aware of him.

Novalis

Novalis

E.T.A. Hoffmann: “Master Flea” 2/2

An illustrated brief version of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s “Meister Floh” — excerpted from “Tales of the Nations,” a picture book published in Hamburg in 1933 by the “Cigarettenbilderdienst Hamburg-Bahrenfeld” (“Cigarette Picture Service”).Narrator and Illustrator:Stefan Mart.

During such a fight, Alina one day saw among the gaping crowd a young man with long curly hair who was making his way up to the steps of the booth. The girl couldn’t believe her eyes, but there was no doubt: that was what Zeherit, her thistle prince, would look like in human form. And it really was him! He had taken on human shape because of his great longing to see the lovely girl and to be able to protect her in the dismal darkness of the human world.

“Zeherit!” Alinore cried out in joyful surprise on her high platform. But the youth put his finger on his lips, indicating that she should remain silent, and in feverish haste he gave her a folded piece of paper on which a few words had been scribbled.

The note was signed “Pepush”. Alina read it, her heart beating fast. – “Oh, Mr Pepush…!” At that moment Leuwenhoek’s big bell rang out summoning her and Master Flea to the performance in the tent. Still very confused, little Alina looked around in the dim light of the theatre for the Master. But he was sitting far away from her, and was very aggrieved because he had seen her gazing at Mr Pepush and knew she had fallen in love with him. Master Flea had his pride.

It was he who had rescued her – had she forgotten that his bites were still essential to preserve her life? Deeply mortified, he decided he would leave the girl. A tumult set in outside the tent. The rival entrepreneur had once again turned his megaphone in the direction of Leuwenhoek’s circus. Swammer was trying to prevent the crowd from entering the tent. Master Flea seized the opportunity. He took a determined jump to freedom through a hole in the canvas of the tent.

To his surprise, he found himself among the colourful odds and ends on sale in the neighbouring booth, a toy bazaar. Among many others looking at the goods stood a very respectable gentleman, Mr Peregrinus

Tys, who was doing his Christmas shopping. Mr Peregrinus was a bachelor: not, however, on principle but due to excessive shyness, which he was unable to overcome in the presence of the fair sex. He had selected the very finest things as he wanted to give many presents to the children of his neighbour, a bookbinder called Shepherd.

The real reason for his generosity he did not admit even to himself: he had long felt secretly attracted to the eldest daughter of this large family but he did not dare to raise his eyes and look freely and openly at the gentle, beautiful girl.

Peregrinus Tys, both arms laden with presents, was just about to reach for the last item he had selected – an oval box with a picture of a wild boar hunt on it – when a little incident took place. Master Flea came leaping out. He had noticed Alina following him in her fear. He quickly sprang into one of the boxes lying on the counter in order to hide. But Alina was already there, seized the box in which she thought Master Flea had taken refuge, and ran off with it.

Peregrinus hesitated for a moment, his hand outstretched, but then he took hold of what he thought was the box with hunting scene. – When he got home, his housekeeper took charge of his purchases. Pauline was a stout old dame with a beetroot-red nose. She was the only female whose presence the shy and introverted eccentric would tolerate in his vicinity. Heaven alone knows how this ugly creature with her watery eyes and unkempt hair came to be known as the Empress of Golgonda. –

It must be said right away that the heart of the bachelor, Mr Peregrinus Tys, had never beaten so fast on any previous Christmas Eve as it was now beating in anxious anticipation. He already heard in his imagination the little silver bell tinkling gently at Shepherd’s and the loud jubilation of all the children. But before he left, he checked the presents once more. He was annoyed to find that box with the hunting scene had somehow gone astray. Then he noticed another unopened box.

When he opened it he saw to his horror that it was empty, except that something seemed to leap out of it towards him which bore some resemblance to a large coloured flea. But his eyesight was not good enough for him to be sure.

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He now felt a strange tickling sensation under his cravat. But as it was Christmas, Mr Peregrinus did not wish to delay any further and prepared to visit his neighbour to bring him all the wonderful presents. But before him now stood a very pretty, slender creature dressed up as though she were coming from a ball, wearing a silk gown, and a tiara in her dark hair. The frightened bachelor wanted to make off at once, but the apparition took him by both hands and whispered in her delightful voice: “Oh, Peregrin, dear Peregrin, I am bringing you the wooden box with the missing hunting scene.”

It was Alinore, who had noticed her mistake. This incident and the sight of the beautiful girl was too much for the fat housekeeper, Pauline, who was still present in the room. Being unwilling to tolerate a second woman in her vicinity, she refused to serve, gave notice and hurried out of the house. When Alina was alone with Mr Peregrinus Tys, she fell on her knees before him: “My dear friend, return the prisoner to me! My very life depends upon it!” Peregrinus did not know that the prisoner she was talking about was that something that had escaped from the empty box. He thought a mill wheel was revolving in his head.

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He heard sobbing and weeping. When he had recovered from his dizziness, he saw the beautiful girl lying on the ground before him, motionless and pale as death. “Be on your guard, good sir, be on your guard!” Peregrinus heard something whisper this just under his nose. A tiny monster was sitting on his silken cravat. A pair of round, bright eyes shone out of its bird-like head, and a long pointed object protruded from its sparrow’s beak.

Two horns grew out of its forehead, and on its feet the curious creature was wearing golden boots with diamond spurs. – “Though you do not know me, good Mr Peregrinus; I beg you, sir, allow me to introduce myself – I am Master Flea. Permit me to insert a minute microscope made by a skilled optician of my people into the pupil of your left eye. You will see at once what power this microscope will give you over others, since you will be able to read their innermost thoughts.

But do not always wear it, as it would weigh you down unbearably to always know what your fellow men are thinking!” So enthralled was Peregrinus Tys by this magical insect that he had almost forgotten the beautiful girl lying lifeless at his feet. – “Woe is me, I am dying!” Alinore murmured through her snow-white lips. – “Give – the – prisoner! – I am dying!” All at once a penetrating but harmonious sound was to be heard, as though little golden bells had been struck. Alinore leaped up and hopped around the room laughing, her lips and cheeks now rosy and warm. Good Master Flea had taken pity on her and bitten

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her. Mr Peregrinus Tys stood there motionless with astonishment; but that was not the end of the wondrous events of the day. The door was thrown open – Leuwenhoek and Swammer burst in. The two scoundrels had resolved their differences and were determined to join forces to bring back the two escaped prisoners. Due to the power of the microscope, Peregrinus Tys became instantly aware of the sinister thoughts of these villains. A third person appeared – Mr Pepush turned up to protect Alinore.

Mr Peregrinus, the bachelor, began to understand the background of these mysterious events thanks to that marvelous instrument which Master Flea had inserted into his eye. To everybody’s amazement, a milky ray of light came in through the window, and wound itself in a spiral around the chandelier. The Sublime Spirit from the fairy-land of Famagusta had arrived at the very last minute to recover his assets from the two magicians who had stolen them.

As soon as he had taken on visible form, the two magicians, Swammer and Leuwenhoek, fell upon the spirit with howls of rage; they grabbed two chairs and lambasted it until the milky substance of his body was flowing out of it in all directions. Only then was the magic spell broken which had bound lovely Alinore and Mr Pepush, and the two magicians no longer had any power over them either.

Alinore fell into Mr Pepush’s arms; they were both now so happy that they had enough vitality to live as humans for a whole lifetime. Swammer and Leuwenhoek made off like two beaten curs. – The air had been cleared. Master Flea bestirred himself. He whispered to the bachelor, Peregrinus Tys, who was now alone: “Now is the time for you to take a big decision, Mr Peregrinus.

Take your presents and let us go over to your neighbour. I can tell you a secret: that lovely girl Rosy Shepherd has been waiting for you with impatience. Don’t be so shy, Mr Peregrinus, give the child your hand and tell her that you are ready!”

A year of marital bliss had passed. Nobody would have recognised the former bachelor Peregrinus: he had become a useful husband. He sat at the cradle and was rocking his first-born son.

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“I would never have known you, my son, had it not been for Master Flea.” The good papa was telling his sleeping baby son the whole epic of the flea from start to finish. – Peregrinus suddenly raised his head. He could hear shouting in the kitchen. Master Flea had bitten fat Pauline’s nose, because the old housekeeper had been careless enough to let the baby’s milk boil over. Rosy, the beautiful young wife, now joined the happy father at the cradle and both laughed merrily at the joke.

But they then heard the silvery sound of Master Flea’s voice: “Mr and Mrs Peregrinus Tys, your devoted servant! I beg to inform you that my mission here has been accomplished. I would ask you to remember that I am, after all, a flea. Please excuse me! I am expected elsewhere. Should His Grace, young Master Tys, ever fall into bad health, I shall appear at once and help out with a couple of bites!”

Having made this promise, the kindly insect executed some extraordinary leaps: “Goodbye! I am jumping back to my madcaps, to the flea people whose master I am!”

The End

E.T.A. Hoffmann: “Master Flea” 1/2

An illustrated version of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s “Meister Floh” — excerpted from “Tales of the Nations,” a picture book published in Hamburg in 1933 by the “Cigarettenbilderdienst Hamburg-Bahrenfeld” (“Cigarette Picture Service”).Narrator and Illustrator:Stefan Mart.

n the fairy-tale land of Famagusta – the land of the strangest flowers and of blossom creatures, the land of speaking birds and other marvels never seen or heard by any mortal – two intruders turned up one day from the world of human beings. They were both very handsome lads, but rogues of bad character, magicians and sorcerers by profession.

They appeared in the guise of harmless botanists with green specimen containers and butterfly nets. But they also had hidden on their persons sharp-edged instruments, microscopes and collapsible telescopes. It was only due to a number of coincidences that they were able to enter this land – something which these scoundrels may have divined through their magic arts. It so happened that the guardian of this fairy-tale land, a giant as tall as a tree, was just taking his seven-day nap.

And the Sublime Spirit that kept watch over everything had just flown off on a trip to the stars to make a few inquiries. That was how the two magicians managed to set out on their searches

undisturbed. One of the two was called Leuwenhoek; he had a flea circus at a fun fair outside the gates of a small town close by. The other, whose name was Swammer, had a conjurer’s stall there. They soon discovered something with their powerful microscopes which had them dancing for joy like a pair of billy goats.

They had found a pearl lying in the stamen of a tulip which reflected the portrait of a beautiful girl’s face in its magnificent lustre. The two magicians at once began to make use of their sinister powers to break the spell binding the pearl. A prickly thistle, known in this fairy-tale land as Zeherit, the thistle prince, grew very close to the tulip and had always sought to protect the magic pearl. The prince, in despair, stuck his thorns into everything he could reach, and Leuwenhoek and Swammer often howled with pain, their howls sounding like the hoarse barking of old watch dogs.

However, after much experimenting, the magicians succeeded in their endeavours. A slender girl of almost ethereal beauty soon sprang out of the tulip. Leuwenhoek at once caught hold of the extraordinary creature with his rough hands so that she could not escape him. The other rascal, Swammer, would have liked to take hold of her as well, but he was probably afraid that the delicate little creature might be destroyed, as she hardly showed any signs of life. He relied on his cunning and was already quietly planning to remove this miraculous creature from his colleague.

While the two magicians were both secretly pondering how they could take sole possession of this girl of elfin beauty, they suddenly heard a very fine melodious voice that must have come

from a creature leaping around high up over them. Sometimes the voice came from behind, sometimes from above them in the air, then from the right and then again from the left. – “Oh dear, oh dear! what have you done, you scoundrels? You will not escape severe punishment: you have changed Alinore, the daughter of great King Sekatis, back into human shape. The Sublime Spirit had changed her into a pearl in order to preserve her from the burden of life on earth. Shame on you scoundrels!” But the two unscrupulous magicians only laughed.

Leuwenhoek took an ever firmer hold of the little girl, taking out his telescope with his other hand to see who was jumping around with such amazing prowess. – It had to be an incredibly small and also quite remarkable creature. – “Right! There it is!” cried Leuwenhoek, “it’s a huge flea as big as a good-sized bean. That would be the very thing for my circus!” He focussed his glass so directly on the insect that, in the middle of a big leap, it fell from the sky, stunned, and landed right on the nose of Leuwenhoek the flea-tamer. The flea slipped down the smooth, even surface of the nose and, still dizzy, unfortunately leapt straight into the big botanical specimen container, the cover of which was wide open. – “Well!

That’s taken care of!” said Leuwenhoek with a pleased grunt, closing the box. – “This splendid specimen of a flea will be the main attraction of my show!” – Now it was time for the magicians to see to gentle little Alinore. During the flea hunt, Leuwenhoek had taken too firm a grip of her, and the lovely girl now lay across his arm like a lifeless doll. – “Help her soul! She is dying before my eyes!” cried the flea-tamer in disappointment.

Both magicians now murmured magic spells and exhaled their warm breath over her in the hope of bringing her home alive. Leuwenhoek put the girl very carefully into his specimen container, which had fly-mesh on both sides, and he ran off with it as fast as he could to bring his loot to safety. Swammer ran after him, spitting with rage, as he begrudged his colleague the ownership of Alinore. Now that the flea was alone in the specimen container with little Alinore, a human being, it at once came to and took a lively interest in her condition. The poor girl wasn’t able to live or die and was moaning in her struggle with death. The flea saw how beautiful and graceful she was, was filled with pity for her and decided to help. –

“Quiet, fair human child! We shall very soon cross the border of fairy-land Famagusta. – But before we cross the border, I cannot give you the vitality you need; only then does the power of the Sublime Spirit cease and am I out of reach of his revenge.”

“I am dying! I am dying!” breathed Alinore, who became pale as death and fainted. The flea quickly bit the unfortunate girl in the shoulder. As if by magic, Alinore opened her eyes, and warm colour returned to her cheeks. She smiled like a delighted child and kept calling out: “My heart is beating! – I am alive! A thousand thanks to you, Master Flea!” – But the lovely girl was soon to be torn out of her happy fairy-tale dreams and to learn that it does not bring happiness to be brought into the world of humans.

Only a few days later she was standing on the rough and shaky stage of the fun-fair booth which belonged to Leuwenhoek the flea-tamer. Behind her a canvas backdrop covered with silly and horrible coloured pictures fluttered in the wind. The sounds of squeaky organ notes, bad music and cracked bells came from all sides, producing deafening confusion. People shoved and pushed everywhere, shouting like rough-voiced cattle drivers.

Alinore found herself in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the fun-fair. She thought with longing of the land of Famagusta; she thought of Zeherit, the noble thistle prince, who had always kept his arms chivalrously around her to protect her from trouble. It now seemed to her to be a paradise lost. Master Flea was her only comfort and she could count on his unconditional help.

He sat next to her, fettered with a tiny little chain to the large nose of a huge papier-maché mask. They were both supposed to attract passers-by into the booth. They both had to sing a little song. Master Flea usually performed a few jumps and sang first:

I am the master of the fleas
Jump twenty metres if you please.
Golden garments can I wear
Travelling in my sedan chair.
I can ride and fire a cannon
And in duelling I’m a champion.
My somersaults on the trapeze –
Just watch them, and your blood will freeze.
Now, hurry up, the show is starting
Entrance fee for kids: one farthing.

Straight afterwards came the wonderfully delicate voice of the lovely girl, and everybody paid attention:

I’m pretty Princess Alina.
Doll-like is my demeanour.
I’m from a fairyland forlorn,
In Famagusta I was born –
Where some enchanted humans live,
Where hidden spirits reign and thrive,
Where birds and flowers all can speak,
Where . . . .

She didn’t get any further. Swammer, the rogue, had his conjuror’s booth straight opposite Leuwenhoek’s, and he was extremely envious of his colleague’s success. He was determined to employ all means to undermine his rival’s business. As soon as Master Flea and Alina began to sing their songs, the scoundrel would take his megaphone and drown their gentle voices. Then the injured party Leuwenhoek would dash out from behind the red velvet curtain of his flea theatre in a towering rage.

The two sinister magicians drew their dangerous weapons and – the battle of the telescopes began. The former friends, now bitter enemies, attacked each other with huge telescopes. – “Draw, damned scoundrel, if you have the courage!” shouted Leuwenhoek. – “Come on! I am not afraid of you – you will soon feel my strength!” cried Swammer and he, too, took his telescope apart. Both now put the well focussed glasses to their eyes and continued to denounce each other violently.

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The struggle continued with murderous flashes aimed at each other’s eyes. Both fought as hard as they could, sometimes lengthening their weapons, sometimes shortening them, by pulling out or collapsing the instruments. The combattants often hit their targets, and jumped wildly up and down with pain, supplying a musical accompaniment of howling and screaming reminiscent of the wailing and gnashing of teeth of the damned in hell.

To be continued…

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