CHAPTER XVII.THE BUTTERFLY ROSA IN THE FORM OF MINING CATERPILLAR—THORN-CROWNS, AND THISTLE-HEADS OF JEALOUSY.The last chapter was as brief as our delusions. It was one itself, alas! poor Firmian. After the first stormy mutual catechisings, and particularly, after the giving and receiving of all the mutual news, he saw more and more clearly that Lenette’s invisible church, in which Stiefel filled the part of soul’s bridegroom, was become very much of avisibleone. It was as if the earthquake of the recent happiness had rent in twain the veil of the Holy of Holies, the inmost sanctuary, wherein Stiefel’s head fluttered by way of cherub. But, to speak the truth, I am telling a lie here, because it was Lenette’s specialobjecttoshowanddisplayaparticularliking for the Schulrath, who, in his delight thereat, went fluttering on from Arcadia to Otaheite, and from thence to Eldorado, and from thence to Walhalla, which was a certain indication, that, up to this point, his good fortune, during Firmian’s absence, had beenless. He related that, “Rosa had broken with the Heimlicher; that the Venner, whom the latter had wanted to utilise as a spinning machine, had turned into an engine of war against him. The cause of all this had been the niece in Bayreuth, whose engagement the Venner had broken off, because he had caught her being kissed by a gentleman there.”Firmian grew red as fire, and cried “Miserable cockroach! It wasshewho broke off her engagement with that wretched lying scoundrel, nothewho broke off his with her. Ah! Herr Schulrath, be that poor lady’s true knight and champion, and run this wretched abortion of a lie through and through wherever you came across it. From whom did you get hold of this evil weed?” Stiefel pointed calmly to Lenette, saying, “Fromher!” “And where didyouget hold of it?” Firmian cried to her in amazement. “Mr. Von Meyern,” she answered, with her face all glowing red, “was here calling, and told it me himself.” “But I was fetched immediately,” Stiefel interrupted, “and I skilfully sent him about his business.” Stiefel then asked for a correct version of what had happened. Firmian thereupon, timidly, and with many changes of tone, made a highly favourable report of the rose-maiden and her conduct of the matter (“rose-maiden” in a threefold sense, on account of the roses in her cheeks, of her victorious virtue, and the green rosebuds she had given to him). But on Lenette’s account he awarded her aproxima accessitonly, not the gold medal. He had to bind the Venner, by way of sacrificial ram, to the horns of the altar in place of Nathalie, or, at all events, harness him by way of saddle-horse to her triumphal car, and relate without disguise how Leibgeber had been the person who broke off the engagement, and, as it were, dragged her back by the sleeve, as she was making the first step into the Minotaur’s cave—by means of his satiric sketches of Meyern.“But it wasyou, of course,” said Lenette,withoutany tone of interrogation, “who told Leibgeber all about him, to begin with.”“Yes,” said he.We of the human race give to words of one syllable, to “Yes,” and “No,” at all events, more intonations, and shades of intonations, than the Chinese themselves. The yes in question was a rapid, toneless, cold yes, being merely meant for a “What then,” or “Suppose I did.” She interrupted a digressive speech of Stiefel’s with a point-blank, target, bull’s-eye question:“Whenhad you been with her V”At last Firmian, with his battle-telescope, saw hostile movements of all kinds going on in her heart; he made a playful diversion, and said, “Herr Schulrath,whendid you come to see Lenette?”“Three times every week at least, and, very often, oftener than that; always about this time of the evening,” he answered.“Verywell,” said Firmian, in a kindly and playful fashion. “I’m not going to be jealous, but be good enough to remark—and my Lenette will please to do so too—thatIwas with Nathalie,along with Leibgeber, twicein all; once in the afternoon, once in the evening, walking about the grounds of Fantaisie.“Well, Lenette?”She parted her cherry lips, and her eyes were like Volta’s electric condensers.Stiefel went away, and Lenette (from a countenance on which there seemedtwofires burning, the fire of anger and a lovelier fire) flashed after him a spark of eye love, calculated to blow up the whole powder-mill of a jealous husband. The married pair were scarce alone, when, by way of propitiating her, he asked her if that confounded Venner had been plaguing her again; and then the firework which had been fixed ready on the scaffold of her face, went hissing off.“Oh! of courseyoucan’t endure him. You are jealous of him, on account of this beautiful,learned,INTELLECTUAL, Nathalie of yours. Do you suppose I don’t know quite well about you and her going about a whole night among the trees—and hugging and kissing! A pretty story! Ah fie! I never would have believed it of you. No wonder Mr. Meyern said ‘Good morning’ to her, learning and all. Oh yes! you’ll excuse yourself, no doubt.”“I should have talked to you about all that most innocent affair,” answered Firmian, tranquilly, “while Stiefel was here, if I had not seen quite well that you knew of it. AmIannoyed becausehekissedyouwhile I was away?”This irritated her still more; firstly, because it was impossible that Firmian could know of a certainty that it was true—(and itwas!),—and secondly, because she thought “You can forgive it very easily now that you care more for another woman than you do for me.” But then, for the self-same reason (inasmuch asshecared more for another man than she did forhim),she, of course, ought to have found no difficulty in forgiving him too. But, as usual, instead of answering his question, she put one herself: “DidIever give anybody silk forget-me-nots, assomebodydid tosomebody? Thank goodness! mine are still in my drawer.”Heretwohearts contended within him—atenderheart which was pierced by this unintentional association of forget-me-nots so dissimilar—and aman’sheart, which was powerfully stirred and stung by this detestable defensive and offensive alliance with the fellow who, as was evident now, had sent the innocent child, whom Nathalie had rescued, to Fantaisie by way of a stalking-horse, behind which to conceal and mask himself, and the toils he had spun. As Siebenkæs now, with an outburst of anger, converted his judgment-seat into a stool of repentance for the Venner, whom he stigmatised as a canker-worm of feminine buds, a sparrowhawk, a housebreaker as regarded matrimonial treasures, and a crimp, trepanner, and soul-stealer of mated souls—vowing with the utmost warmth that it was Nathalie who had scornfully sent Rosa to the right-about, not Rosa who had rejected her: and as, of course, he interdicted her in the most peremptory terms from everything in the nature of dissemination or repetition of the Venner’s lying demi-romance, he turned his unfortunate wife into a sour, pungent, Erfurt radish, from head to foot.Let us not fix our eyes too long, or too magisterially, upon this heat-rash or purulent fever of poor Lenette’s. For my part, I am going to leaveheralone, but make an onslaught on her entire sex at once. I shall be doing so, I trust, when I assert that women never paint with more caustic colours (Swift’s black art is but weak water-colour in comparison) than when they have to portray the bodily unlovelinesses of other women. Further, that the prettiest of faces roughens and bristles into an ugly one, when it expresses anger with the feminine recruiting officer more than pity for the deserter. To speak accurately: Every woman is jealous of all other women, because—not, perhaps, her own husband (or lover, as the case may be), but—all other men are attracted by them, and are consequently not true toher. Therefore every woman takes the same vow concerning these vice-queens of this earth that Hannibal took concerning the Romans, and keeps it just as religiously. For which reason every woman has the power which Fordyce says all animal bodies possess—that of making all others cold; and, indeed, every woman must of necessity be an enemy and persecutor of a sex which consists entirely of rivals. And it is probable that many—for instance, nuns in their convents, and Moravians—call each other sisters, or sister-souls, with the view of giving some sort of expression to the nature of their sentiments for each other; since sisters are just the very people who quarrel the most. This is why Madame Bouillon’sparties quarréesconsisted of three men and only one woman. It may be that it led St. Athanasius, Basilius, Scotus, and other teachers of the Church to entertain the belief that, with the single exception of the Virgin Mary, all women would rise as men at the Day of Judgment, in order that there may be no anger, or envy, or bickerings in heaven. There is but one queen who is beloved, nourished and cherished by many thousands of her own sex—the queen-bee of the workers (who are of the feminine gender, according to the most recent observations).I shall close this chapter with a sort of preliminary word for Lenette. The foul fiend Rosa, by way of giving like for like (or ratherworsefor like) had emptied whole basketsful of the seed of evil-weeds into Lenette’s open heart, and unpacked compliments, to commence with, and news of her husband; then, afterwards, disparaging matter. She had believed him all the more readily because it was a clever, learned, and intellectual woman whom he was nigrifying, breaking with, and offering up as a sacrifice. What she most hated in Nathaliewasher cleverness, her learning, and intellectualness; for it was the want of those that had broughtherselfto such shame. Like many women, she thought that theheadsof Venuses were not “the true article” (as some connoisseurs think is the case with the Venus de Medici). What provoked her most of all was that Firmian should take another woman’s part more than his own wife’s—nay, at his own wife’s expense; and that Nathalie, in herconceitandpride, had got ready asackto give such a nice,richgentleman, instead of weaving anetto hold him with. She was also very much annoyed that her husband hadadmittedeverything, as she considered his candour was only lordly indifference as to what she might feel on the subject.What did Firmian do? He forgave. His two reasons for doing so were good ones—“Bayreuth” and “the grave.” The former had parted him from her so long; the latter was soon to part him from her for ever. Athirdreason might perhaps be this: Lenette, as regarded his love for Nathalie, wasnotso very utterly the reverse of right.
THE BUTTERFLY ROSA IN THE FORM OF MINING CATERPILLAR—THORN-CROWNS, AND THISTLE-HEADS OF JEALOUSY.
The last chapter was as brief as our delusions. It was one itself, alas! poor Firmian. After the first stormy mutual catechisings, and particularly, after the giving and receiving of all the mutual news, he saw more and more clearly that Lenette’s invisible church, in which Stiefel filled the part of soul’s bridegroom, was become very much of avisibleone. It was as if the earthquake of the recent happiness had rent in twain the veil of the Holy of Holies, the inmost sanctuary, wherein Stiefel’s head fluttered by way of cherub. But, to speak the truth, I am telling a lie here, because it was Lenette’s specialobjecttoshowanddisplayaparticularliking for the Schulrath, who, in his delight thereat, went fluttering on from Arcadia to Otaheite, and from thence to Eldorado, and from thence to Walhalla, which was a certain indication, that, up to this point, his good fortune, during Firmian’s absence, had beenless. He related that, “Rosa had broken with the Heimlicher; that the Venner, whom the latter had wanted to utilise as a spinning machine, had turned into an engine of war against him. The cause of all this had been the niece in Bayreuth, whose engagement the Venner had broken off, because he had caught her being kissed by a gentleman there.”
Firmian grew red as fire, and cried “Miserable cockroach! It wasshewho broke off her engagement with that wretched lying scoundrel, nothewho broke off his with her. Ah! Herr Schulrath, be that poor lady’s true knight and champion, and run this wretched abortion of a lie through and through wherever you came across it. From whom did you get hold of this evil weed?” Stiefel pointed calmly to Lenette, saying, “Fromher!” “And where didyouget hold of it?” Firmian cried to her in amazement. “Mr. Von Meyern,” she answered, with her face all glowing red, “was here calling, and told it me himself.” “But I was fetched immediately,” Stiefel interrupted, “and I skilfully sent him about his business.” Stiefel then asked for a correct version of what had happened. Firmian thereupon, timidly, and with many changes of tone, made a highly favourable report of the rose-maiden and her conduct of the matter (“rose-maiden” in a threefold sense, on account of the roses in her cheeks, of her victorious virtue, and the green rosebuds she had given to him). But on Lenette’s account he awarded her aproxima accessitonly, not the gold medal. He had to bind the Venner, by way of sacrificial ram, to the horns of the altar in place of Nathalie, or, at all events, harness him by way of saddle-horse to her triumphal car, and relate without disguise how Leibgeber had been the person who broke off the engagement, and, as it were, dragged her back by the sleeve, as she was making the first step into the Minotaur’s cave—by means of his satiric sketches of Meyern.
“But it wasyou, of course,” said Lenette,withoutany tone of interrogation, “who told Leibgeber all about him, to begin with.”
“Yes,” said he.
We of the human race give to words of one syllable, to “Yes,” and “No,” at all events, more intonations, and shades of intonations, than the Chinese themselves. The yes in question was a rapid, toneless, cold yes, being merely meant for a “What then,” or “Suppose I did.” She interrupted a digressive speech of Stiefel’s with a point-blank, target, bull’s-eye question:
“Whenhad you been with her V”
At last Firmian, with his battle-telescope, saw hostile movements of all kinds going on in her heart; he made a playful diversion, and said, “Herr Schulrath,whendid you come to see Lenette?”
“Three times every week at least, and, very often, oftener than that; always about this time of the evening,” he answered.
“Verywell,” said Firmian, in a kindly and playful fashion. “I’m not going to be jealous, but be good enough to remark—and my Lenette will please to do so too—thatIwas with Nathalie,along with Leibgeber, twicein all; once in the afternoon, once in the evening, walking about the grounds of Fantaisie.
“Well, Lenette?”
She parted her cherry lips, and her eyes were like Volta’s electric condensers.
Stiefel went away, and Lenette (from a countenance on which there seemedtwofires burning, the fire of anger and a lovelier fire) flashed after him a spark of eye love, calculated to blow up the whole powder-mill of a jealous husband. The married pair were scarce alone, when, by way of propitiating her, he asked her if that confounded Venner had been plaguing her again; and then the firework which had been fixed ready on the scaffold of her face, went hissing off.
“Oh! of courseyoucan’t endure him. You are jealous of him, on account of this beautiful,learned,INTELLECTUAL, Nathalie of yours. Do you suppose I don’t know quite well about you and her going about a whole night among the trees—and hugging and kissing! A pretty story! Ah fie! I never would have believed it of you. No wonder Mr. Meyern said ‘Good morning’ to her, learning and all. Oh yes! you’ll excuse yourself, no doubt.”
“I should have talked to you about all that most innocent affair,” answered Firmian, tranquilly, “while Stiefel was here, if I had not seen quite well that you knew of it. AmIannoyed becausehekissedyouwhile I was away?”
This irritated her still more; firstly, because it was impossible that Firmian could know of a certainty that it was true—(and itwas!),—and secondly, because she thought “You can forgive it very easily now that you care more for another woman than you do for me.” But then, for the self-same reason (inasmuch asshecared more for another man than she did forhim),she, of course, ought to have found no difficulty in forgiving him too. But, as usual, instead of answering his question, she put one herself: “DidIever give anybody silk forget-me-nots, assomebodydid tosomebody? Thank goodness! mine are still in my drawer.”
Heretwohearts contended within him—atenderheart which was pierced by this unintentional association of forget-me-nots so dissimilar—and aman’sheart, which was powerfully stirred and stung by this detestable defensive and offensive alliance with the fellow who, as was evident now, had sent the innocent child, whom Nathalie had rescued, to Fantaisie by way of a stalking-horse, behind which to conceal and mask himself, and the toils he had spun. As Siebenkæs now, with an outburst of anger, converted his judgment-seat into a stool of repentance for the Venner, whom he stigmatised as a canker-worm of feminine buds, a sparrowhawk, a housebreaker as regarded matrimonial treasures, and a crimp, trepanner, and soul-stealer of mated souls—vowing with the utmost warmth that it was Nathalie who had scornfully sent Rosa to the right-about, not Rosa who had rejected her: and as, of course, he interdicted her in the most peremptory terms from everything in the nature of dissemination or repetition of the Venner’s lying demi-romance, he turned his unfortunate wife into a sour, pungent, Erfurt radish, from head to foot.
Let us not fix our eyes too long, or too magisterially, upon this heat-rash or purulent fever of poor Lenette’s. For my part, I am going to leaveheralone, but make an onslaught on her entire sex at once. I shall be doing so, I trust, when I assert that women never paint with more caustic colours (Swift’s black art is but weak water-colour in comparison) than when they have to portray the bodily unlovelinesses of other women. Further, that the prettiest of faces roughens and bristles into an ugly one, when it expresses anger with the feminine recruiting officer more than pity for the deserter. To speak accurately: Every woman is jealous of all other women, because—not, perhaps, her own husband (or lover, as the case may be), but—all other men are attracted by them, and are consequently not true toher. Therefore every woman takes the same vow concerning these vice-queens of this earth that Hannibal took concerning the Romans, and keeps it just as religiously. For which reason every woman has the power which Fordyce says all animal bodies possess—that of making all others cold; and, indeed, every woman must of necessity be an enemy and persecutor of a sex which consists entirely of rivals. And it is probable that many—for instance, nuns in their convents, and Moravians—call each other sisters, or sister-souls, with the view of giving some sort of expression to the nature of their sentiments for each other; since sisters are just the very people who quarrel the most. This is why Madame Bouillon’sparties quarréesconsisted of three men and only one woman. It may be that it led St. Athanasius, Basilius, Scotus, and other teachers of the Church to entertain the belief that, with the single exception of the Virgin Mary, all women would rise as men at the Day of Judgment, in order that there may be no anger, or envy, or bickerings in heaven. There is but one queen who is beloved, nourished and cherished by many thousands of her own sex—the queen-bee of the workers (who are of the feminine gender, according to the most recent observations).
I shall close this chapter with a sort of preliminary word for Lenette. The foul fiend Rosa, by way of giving like for like (or ratherworsefor like) had emptied whole basketsful of the seed of evil-weeds into Lenette’s open heart, and unpacked compliments, to commence with, and news of her husband; then, afterwards, disparaging matter. She had believed him all the more readily because it was a clever, learned, and intellectual woman whom he was nigrifying, breaking with, and offering up as a sacrifice. What she most hated in Nathaliewasher cleverness, her learning, and intellectualness; for it was the want of those that had broughtherselfto such shame. Like many women, she thought that theheadsof Venuses were not “the true article” (as some connoisseurs think is the case with the Venus de Medici). What provoked her most of all was that Firmian should take another woman’s part more than his own wife’s—nay, at his own wife’s expense; and that Nathalie, in herconceitandpride, had got ready asackto give such a nice,richgentleman, instead of weaving anetto hold him with. She was also very much annoyed that her husband hadadmittedeverything, as she considered his candour was only lordly indifference as to what she might feel on the subject.
What did Firmian do? He forgave. His two reasons for doing so were good ones—“Bayreuth” and “the grave.” The former had parted him from her so long; the latter was soon to part him from her for ever. Athirdreason might perhaps be this: Lenette, as regarded his love for Nathalie, wasnotso very utterly the reverse of right.