



Produced by Charles Bowen, from scans obtained from The
Internet Archive.





Transcriber's notes:
1. This book is derived from the Web Archive,
http://www.archive.org/details/weirdtales05bealgoog.

2. The oe diphthong is represented by [oe].

3. Footnote references to volume I of this work are incorporated in the
note in order to provide easier reading.







                              WEIRD TALES



                                   BY
                           E. T. W. HOFFMANN



                   A NEW TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN



                       WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR



                         By J. T. BEALBY, B.A.
         FORMERLY SCHOLAR OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE



                             IN TWO VOLUMES
                                VOL. II.



                                NEW YORK
                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
                                  1885






                                 TROW'S
                   PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
                                NEW YORK.




                         CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.


                                                              PAGE
THE DOGE AND DOGESS,

MASTER MARTIN THE COOPER,

MADEMOISELLE DE SCUDERI,

GAMBLER'S LUCK,

MASTER JOHANNES WACHT,

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES,




                          THE DOGE AND DOGESS[1]


This was the title that distinguished in the art-catalogue of the works
exhibited by the Berlin Academy of Arts in September, 1816, a picture
which came from the brush of the skilful clever Associate of the
Academy, C. Kolbe.[2] There was such a peculiar charm in the piece that
it attracted all observers. A Doge, richly and magnificently dressed,
and a Dogess at his side, as richly adorned with jewellery, are
stepping out on to a balustered balcony; _he_ is an old man, with a
grey beard and rusty red face, his features indicating a peculiar
blending of expressions, now revealing strength, now weakness, again
pride and arrogance, and again pure good-nature; _she_ is a young
woman, with a far-away look of yearning sadness and dreamy aspiration
not only in her eyes but also in her general bearing. Behind them is an
elderly lady and a man holding an open sun-shade. At one end of the
balcony is a young man blowing a conch-shaped horn, whilst in front of
it a richly decorated gondola, bearing the Venetian flag and having two
gondoliers, is rocking on the sea. In the background stretches the sea
itself studded with hundreds and hundreds of sails, whilst the towers
and palaces of magnificent Venice are seen rising out of its waves. To
the left is Saint Mark's, to the right, more in the front, San Giorgio
Maggiore. The following words were cut in the golden frame of the
picture.

            Ah! senza amare,
            Andare sul mare
            Col sposo del mare,
            Non puo consolare.

            To go on the sea
            With the spouse of the sea,
            When loveless I be,
            Is no comfort to me.

One day there arose before this picture a fruitless altercation as to
whether the artist really intended it for anything more than a mere
picture, that is, the temporary situation, sufficiently indicated by
the verse, of a decrepit old man who with all his splendour and
magnificence is unable to satisfy the desires of a heart filled with
yearning aspirations, or whether he intended to represent an actual
historical event. One after the other the visitors left the place,
tired of the discussion, so that at length there were only two men
left, both very good friends to the noble art of painting. "I can't
understand," said one of them, "how people can spoil all their
enjoyment by eternally hunting after some jejune interpretation or
explanation. Independently of the fact that I have a pretty accurate
notion of what the relations in life between this Doge and Dogess were,
I am more particularly struck by the subdued richness and power that
characterises the picture as a whole. Look at this flag with the winged
lions, how they flutter in the breeze as if they swayed the world. O
beautiful Venice!" He began to recite Turandot's[3] riddle of Lion of
the Adriatic, "_Dimmi, qual sia quella terribil fera_," &c. He had
hardly come to the end when a sonorous masculine voice broke in with
Calaf's[4] solution, "_Tu quadrupede fera_," &c. Unobserved by the
friends, a man of tall and noble appearance, his grey mantle thrown
picturesquely across his shoulder, had taken up