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Leila's Books
POPE JACYNTH and more supernatural tales
POPE JACYNTH and more supernatural tales
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This ebook edition has been proofed and corrected for errors and compiled to be read with without errors!
***
Contents
POPE JACYNTH
PRINCE ALBERIC AND THE SNAKE LADY
A WEDDING CHEST
THE LADY AND DEATH
ST. EUDÆMON AND HIS ORANGE-TREE
THE FEATURELESS WISDOM
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
THE LADY AND DEATH
[Meiner Lieben Lehrerin Marie Krebs Schüpbach]
A companion-piece to Dürer's print
I
'Since the portrait of my ancestress Agnes seems to have struck you,' said Dr. Konrad Weber, 'and since, even more, you seem to feel that our little town is still warm and living with the Past, I think I will tell you a very curious legend existing in our family : and of which Agnes Weberin, whom we call, after the Latin distich on her picture, Agnes Alkestis, is the heroine. But, before beginning, I had better show you the effigy of the other chief person in this story.'
He had been taking me the round, along the wooden causeway still intact, of the towers and gatehouses which give that little town of Erlach, high above its narrow valley, the air of a great city, say, Jerusalem, in one of Durer's backgrounds. And we were walking now in the wide principal street, the Herrengasse, planted with sweet-smelling lime-trees and set with big gabled houses, all with trim flowers behind their window gratings. The street is closed not by any buildings, nor even by the city walls, but by a glimpse of country opposite, of steep green pasture and distant compact fir-woods. And against this view, as against a piece of blue-green tapestry, there stands a fountain surrounded by a statue. The fountain is of a pattern common in southern Germany and Switzerland, and not without a pleasant reminiscence of the original village drinking-trough of rough hewn fir-trunks: an octagonal basin, like a tub, and, rising in its middle, a pillar, with iron spouts spirting four thin rills of water. But on the top of the pillar is a statue: a knight in armour leaning on his lance.
'This fountain,' said the Doctor, 'was restored, as the inscription tells us, by Berchthold Weber in 1545; the husband of Agnes surnamed Alkestis. But the statue is, as you see, considerably earlier, and belongs to that interesting and insufficiently known school of Franconian stonemasons, who have left so many fine effigies of knights in our churches. It represents not St. George (you see the dragon is missing) but St. Theodulus, a holy warrior whom you have probably never heard of.'
'Do you know,' I answered, 'it happens, by one of those coincidences which are perpetually surprising us, that I have heard of St. Theodulus, and not a month ago; and that, now you remind me of him, I am extremely interested in his legend ?'
'His legend? Why, that was what I intended, so to speak, telling you,' replied the Doctor. ' Pray tell me, first, how much you already know about St. Theodulus.'
' Has this to do with Agnes Alkestis ?' I asked, for I did not want to lose her story.
' It has everything to do with her. I can tell you what St. Theodulus is reported to have done here at Erlach. But you shall tell me what he did elsewhere; for we are badly off for saints' biographies in this Lutheran town.'
' Well,' I replied, ' I can tell you only this much, that a few weeks ago, as I was taking a walk in one of the Tyrolese valleys, not far from the source of the Isar, I found, near some remote cottages, in a runnel of snowwater spirting across the path, one of those little water-wheels which the children make in those parts of the world. Only in this case the toy consisted not of a hammer merely hammering on an empty preserve can, but of two little wooden dolls, who, as the water turned the wheel, thumped unceasingly upon each other. The thing rather fascinated me; and on closer examination I found that one of the figures had horns, while the other, with a sort of helmet carved on to its head, was brandishing a wooden cross. A little girl came out of one of the chalets, and seeing me in contemplation of the toy, told me her big brother had made it, and that it represented St. Theodulus fighting with the Devil. That was all the information to be extracted on the subject. But I often think of the two wooden mannikins in the brook, and wonder how long they will go on hammering, without a pause, on each other, through fine weather and snowstorm.'
***
Contents
POPE JACYNTH
PRINCE ALBERIC AND THE SNAKE LADY
A WEDDING CHEST
THE LADY AND DEATH
ST. EUDÆMON AND HIS ORANGE-TREE
THE FEATURELESS WISDOM
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
THE LADY AND DEATH
[Meiner Lieben Lehrerin Marie Krebs Schüpbach]
A companion-piece to Dürer's print
I
'Since the portrait of my ancestress Agnes seems to have struck you,' said Dr. Konrad Weber, 'and since, even more, you seem to feel that our little town is still warm and living with the Past, I think I will tell you a very curious legend existing in our family : and of which Agnes Weberin, whom we call, after the Latin distich on her picture, Agnes Alkestis, is the heroine. But, before beginning, I had better show you the effigy of the other chief person in this story.'
He had been taking me the round, along the wooden causeway still intact, of the towers and gatehouses which give that little town of Erlach, high above its narrow valley, the air of a great city, say, Jerusalem, in one of Durer's backgrounds. And we were walking now in the wide principal street, the Herrengasse, planted with sweet-smelling lime-trees and set with big gabled houses, all with trim flowers behind their window gratings. The street is closed not by any buildings, nor even by the city walls, but by a glimpse of country opposite, of steep green pasture and distant compact fir-woods. And against this view, as against a piece of blue-green tapestry, there stands a fountain surrounded by a statue. The fountain is of a pattern common in southern Germany and Switzerland, and not without a pleasant reminiscence of the original village drinking-trough of rough hewn fir-trunks: an octagonal basin, like a tub, and, rising in its middle, a pillar, with iron spouts spirting four thin rills of water. But on the top of the pillar is a statue: a knight in armour leaning on his lance.
'This fountain,' said the Doctor, 'was restored, as the inscription tells us, by Berchthold Weber in 1545; the husband of Agnes surnamed Alkestis. But the statue is, as you see, considerably earlier, and belongs to that interesting and insufficiently known school of Franconian stonemasons, who have left so many fine effigies of knights in our churches. It represents not St. George (you see the dragon is missing) but St. Theodulus, a holy warrior whom you have probably never heard of.'
'Do you know,' I answered, 'it happens, by one of those coincidences which are perpetually surprising us, that I have heard of St. Theodulus, and not a month ago; and that, now you remind me of him, I am extremely interested in his legend ?'
'His legend? Why, that was what I intended, so to speak, telling you,' replied the Doctor. ' Pray tell me, first, how much you already know about St. Theodulus.'
' Has this to do with Agnes Alkestis ?' I asked, for I did not want to lose her story.
' It has everything to do with her. I can tell you what St. Theodulus is reported to have done here at Erlach. But you shall tell me what he did elsewhere; for we are badly off for saints' biographies in this Lutheran town.'
' Well,' I replied, ' I can tell you only this much, that a few weeks ago, as I was taking a walk in one of the Tyrolese valleys, not far from the source of the Isar, I found, near some remote cottages, in a runnel of snowwater spirting across the path, one of those little water-wheels which the children make in those parts of the world. Only in this case the toy consisted not of a hammer merely hammering on an empty preserve can, but of two little wooden dolls, who, as the water turned the wheel, thumped unceasingly upon each other. The thing rather fascinated me; and on closer examination I found that one of the figures had horns, while the other, with a sort of helmet carved on to its head, was brandishing a wooden cross. A little girl came out of one of the chalets, and seeing me in contemplation of the toy, told me her big brother had made it, and that it represented St. Theodulus fighting with the Devil. That was all the information to be extracted on the subject. But I often think of the two wooden mannikins in the brook, and wonder how long they will go on hammering, without a pause, on each other, through fine weather and snowstorm.'
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