Part 10

No words can express the pitch of rage to which these words aroused the king. Growing purple in the face and fairly screaming, he elongated himself to three times his natural size, and bumping his head against the wall, as was his habit whenever he fell into a passion, he cried:

“Let them be exterminated! Their resistance is an insult to me! Kill them! Cut off their heads!”

And falling down in an epileptic fit, owing to the excessiveness of his fury, he stamped with his feet, and kept on yelling, “Kill them! Cut off their heads!”

I thought that perhaps the matter might be settled in an amicable manner, and therefore I told the king that rashness was not always the best policy, and I asked for permission to send a messenger, under the protection of a flag of truce, to see whether or not a treaty could be made with the spirits of the upper world.

“This is exactly what I always said,” replied the king. “Rashness is not always the best policy. We must send a messenger by all means.”

Accordingly Cravatu and myself were appointed to that office, and we went.

The undertaking was not without danger, as the nature of the enemy and their habits of thought were not known, and it was not at all improbable that we should receive a shot of lightning at our approach. However, we arrived safely at the lower end of the tunnel, and, looking up, we saw a great number of blue lights moving above like a swarm of bees.

Cravatu, putting his hands to his mouth, shouted up through the hole:

“Peace be with you!”

We listened. The motion among the bees increased, and after a while we heard a very sweet music, as if of a silver harp and lute. This was followed by a roll of thunder and a flash of lightning, doing however no harm.

“What does this mean?” I asked Cravatu, and he replied:

“I perceive that these people speak a language different from our own. They are spirits of sound, and express their thoughts in music. What they mean to say is that they are peaceable, if we let them alone, but that they have the power to defend themselves if we trouble them.”

“Prove it,” I involuntarily exclaimed, for I had adopted instinctively the habit of the princess, who wanted proofs for everything.

“It is not a matter for proving, but of understanding,” answered Cravatu.

“But how are we going to reply?” I asked. “Where can we find a dictionary of music, and who is going to compose the music, or fiddle it to them?”

Upon this Cravatu said:

“The language of music used to be known to us as the music of nature. In olden times the gnomes could understand it and speak it, and required no dictionary for its interpretation, because their simple minds understood that simple language. But now we gnomes have become so learned and scientific, and our minds so complicated, that it is possible for hardly anyone to understand a simple thing, or to express himself in a simple manner. Fortunately, I still find some knowledge of music in my rapidly fading memory, but I cannot answer in music. However, I know the language of flowers, and this is also an universal and natural language, somewhat akin to music, and, if I am not mistaken, these spirits will understand it.”

This ingenuity of Cravatu pleased me very much. He was in fact still sound at heart, one of the brightest of the gnomes, and in spite of the progress of civilisation, in the midst of which he moved, he had still a certain amount of perception of truth, although on that very account he was much exposed to the ridicule of the scientists and made a target for their wit, because they did not believe in such a thing as intuition, and said that nobody could know anything except by way of information, inference, and by a trained imagination.

Cravatu now called some of the Acthnici, who, by the mysterious power which they possess, can create visible objects out of the invisible images existing everywhere in the astral light, and ordered them to produce a White Rose. This they did, and caused it to float slowly up through the hole.

“What does this signify?” I asked, and Cravatu answered--

“The White Rose asks: ‘May I approach you?’”

We waited awhile, when down through the tunnel floated an Euphorbia. We saw it plainly, and had ample time to examine it; but at the moment when it touched the earth it vanished. This flower Cravatu interpreted as being intended to say--

“Why do you persecute us?”

Up went a Heliotrope to tell them--

“My heart longs for you.”

And the answer came back in the shape of a Belladonna, indicating--

“We do not credit the honesty of your intentions.”

To this we replied by sending up a White Lily for the purpose of testifying to the purity of our affection, whereupon we received a Violet bidding us--

“Hope!”

Up again went a Daffodil, to ask them not to be so cruel as to let us pine away in hopeless misery, and we waited.

A consultation seemed to take place among the bees. A great number of small lights were seen to gather around a large blue light in the middle, and a melodious humming was heard. Directly a leaf of a Fern floated down, bringing the answer--

“I will meet you,” and in return we sent up a Geranium to inform them that we were waiting.

Soon after that a clear and beautiful accord was heard, and something luminous floated down through the tunnel, which I could not describe otherwise than as being an oval-shaped radiance of an exquisite rose-coloured light, composed of living sound, and emitting harmonious accords, like an Æolian harp. When it issued from the mouth of the tunnel, I perceived within its sphere the ethereal shape of an Oleander blossom, in the midst of which appeared the childlike and smiling face of a most charming fairy. These were then the spirits of flowers.

Cravatu presented the fairy with a Jessamine blossom as a token of friendship, and invited her to accompany us to the king.

An accord, indicating consent, was the answer, and we returned with the fairy in our midst.

“Bring the prisoner!” exclaimed Adalga, assuming an air of scientific arrogance, when she saw us approaching. This rudeness offended me, and I said:

“This is not a prisoner, princess, but an ambassador coming to us, upon our invitation, and under the flag of truce. It is a fairy of high descent, and the law of justice demands that she be treated respectfully.”

“Prove it!” answered the princess angrily.

“Justice,” I said, “is not a thing to be proved, but to be practised.”

While I spoke, the Oleander blossom gave forth a sweet melody of harmonious sounds, but Adalga looked at the fairy with a wicked glance in her eye, and said:

“A curious specimen, which we must not let escape. It will be quite an ornament to our museum.”

“It will be no such thing,” I answered indignantly. “This noble fairy is under my protection, and I shall protect her.”

But the princess retorted in a haughty manner:

“The interests of science are first of all to be taken into consideration. It may not be strictly correct, in a legal sense, to retain the prisoner, but the end justifies the means.”

To this the king added:

“I always told you so; the end justifies the means.”

Upon this Adalga made a vicious grab at the Oleander blossom, trying to capture it, but did not succeed; for the rose-coloured radiance at once became transformed into a column of red vapour, which whirled away, while from its interior came a discordant sound indicative of disappointment and sorrow.

The princess flew into a rage, and elongating her body to the full length, struck at the column of vapour, but only to fall upon her nose, for the red cloud had already passed beyond her reach. We followed the fairy, but could only see the rose-coloured light floating back into the tunnel, where it disappeared, and after a little while a mournful strain of music was heard. We sent up a variety of flowers with a hope of renewing the negotiations; but they were not accepted. We received nothing but a rain of ashes, indicating that all prospects for an amicable understanding were at an end.

This failure to catch the spirit of sound caused to the princess a great deal of vexation, and she blamed us for not having closed up the mouth of the tunnel to prevent the return of the fairy. To this I replied:

“There is a certain amount of honour even among thieves; but to a person absorbed by a greed for gratifying his scientific curiosity in regard to that which belongs to the higher life, nothing is inviolable or sacred, and nothing safe from his attempts to uselessly and foolishly cause its destruction. Too clumsy, stupid, and cowardly to try to rise up to a conception of high and exalted ideals, those would-be scientists and pseudo-philosophers would like to entice those ideals, allure them by false promises, and drag them down into the manure in which they themselves love to roll; but thanks to the laws of the eternal spirit in nature, true goodness cannot be approached by evil, wisdom is not comprehensible to the fool, and purity does not amalgamate with filth.”

“Prove it!” she cried, probably more from force of habit than as a result of reflection; for some remnant of reason left in her mind seemed to make her feel the idiocy of her requests, and, changing the subject, she said:

“Who is it that has caused me to pry with curious eyes behind the veil of the unknown, and to strive to outstrip my own natural growth. Who caused the loss of my light, my beauty and purity, destroyed my ideals, and made me a slave to doubt? Who, but you yourself, has caused me to treat reason with contempt, to become blind through vanity, and deformed by scepticism? Who, but you, has presented us with a knowledge of evil, which to overcome we have not become strong enough? Who, but you, took away our power, by causing us to expend it in channels that did not belong to our true nature? You caused us to lose our ethereal state, so that now we have to creep like worms upon the earth, instead of sailing like eagles through space on wings of freedom, as was the custom of our race before you arrived. Now the hellish work has begun and it shall be finished, let the cost be what it may. The end must be made to justify the means.”

The determined and clear manner in which Adalga spoke pleased me very much; it proved to me that there was still a lingering spark of reason in her. It was as if the falling upon her nose had awakened her finer sensibilities, and I was about to enter into a discussion of philosophical questions with her; but she would not listen. Turning to the king, she requested him to declare war immediately to the superior kingdom, to force its doors open, and to select the best troops for making the assault.

“You are the ruler of the world,” she said to the king. “You are great and wise. No one will dare to resist you.”

“Of course,” answered the king, being much tickled by her flattering words, and assuming an air of self-importance. “I am the ruler of the world. I am great and wise. No one will dare to resist me. I will exterminate the spirits of the superior kingdom.”

The troops were gathered, and of each division the best individuals selected for making the first assault under the command of Clavo; but now a great difficulty presented itself at the very start; for even the common people among the gnomes had become so much accustomed to arguing, that not a soldier would obey an order without having all the “whys” and “wherefores” explained to him. Each private wanted to know why this or that order was given, and whether it would be advisable to follow it, and what it was intended for, and whether not perhaps something better might be done, and so forth. This caused an endless delay; because, for the purpose of obtaining the consent of the subordinates to follow an order, the commanding general had to explain his views and argue his points with the officers; the officers had to reason it out with the corporals, and they in their turn had to discuss it with the privates and obtain their consent. Some thought the given order practicable, others made objections and refused to obey, and nobody could be induced to act against his own views. From this state of affairs there arose a great deal of delay, difficulties, and waste of time; but at last the assault was made.

They were driven back with great loss, and others took their places, but with the same result. The most obstinate gnomes were sent forward, and for two nights lasted the battle, in which wonderful deeds of stubbornness and daring were accomplished, with no other effect than bringing destruction upon the gnomes and doing no harm to the fairies, whose stronghold was inaccessible; for whenever our soldiers rushed up through the tunnel, a single effusion of lightning was sufficient to kill the greater portion of them, while the rest were driven back mutilated and scorched.

Thus the flower of the kingdom of the gnomes was destroyed; the wails of the widows and orphans resounded, and the king wept unceasingly, beating the air with his arms in sheer despair and impotent fury. Nevertheless, owing to the persuasions of the princess, the gnomes would not desist. She made the king believe that, according to her theory about the exhaustion of energy, the lightning power of the fairies could not endure very long, and the king believed all she said.

“If we cannot go up to them,” she said, “we must make them come down.” To this end she instituted sham flights among the troops, hoping to induce the elfs to pursue them, and she tried all possible means for beguiling the inhabitants of the upper realm, and lead them into a trap. She made to them all kinds of false promises, but those spirits saw that her motive was not pure; she tried to attract them by her song, but her voice had become harsh and disagreeable, like the screeching of an owl.

In fact, I must confess it, although it may not be considered nice to speak ill of a lady, especially if she is one’s intended wife, that Adalga had become somewhat disagreeable. This war brought out the worst traits of her character, and no means were too contemptible for her to employ, provided they held out a prospect to her for accomplishing what she desired.

It has already been stated that, at the time which corresponded to day in our world, the gnomes fell into a death-like sleep, from which they did not awaken until night settled upon the earth. Not being a gnome, I was not subject to the law of their nature, but could remain awake and observe what was taking place during their sleep.

Thus, during the third day after the beginning of the struggle, I was lying awake in the camp, while all the gnomes were asleep. I was watching the entrance of the tunnel, which appeared like a circular opening in the clouds, through which issued a faint light, when suddenly it became illumined by a roseate radiance of great beauty, somewhat like the _aurora borealis_ or northern light. At the same time I heard a chant as of angel voices, and directly afterwards there issued from the tunnel a bevy of the most charming fairies, each representing a luminous living flower, with a beautiful face in its midst. There were Oleanders, Orange-Blossoms, Roses, Camelias, Anemones, Pansies, Forget-me-nots, Daffodils, etc., and out of the chalice or heart of each looked a childlike face, peaceful and smiling; but the greatest and most radiant of all was a white Lotus flower, in whose midst dwelt the fairy queen, with a crown of diamonds upon her head.

I was not at all alarmed. I saw--if I am permitted to use such an unscientific expression--that they intended no harm. It would have been useless to attempt to awaken the sleeping gnomes; I therefore remained still, and looked at the spirits of the flowers through my half-closed lids. They moved about among the sleepers, singing and scattering blossoms, and when they came to the place where Adalga slept, they drew around her in a circle, throwing flowers upon her, such beautiful ones as I had never seen before, and which did not fade away either, when they touched the ground; but the princess smiled in her sleep, as if she had a pleasant dream, and her features assumed an expression that made her look agreeable in spite of her ugliness.

The fairies stood regarding the sleeper with great attention, while pity and hope were expressed in their faces, and the Lotus flower stepped out of her chalice, and sang in a silvery voice a song in a language which I did not understand literally, but whose sentiments became clear to my heart, and might perhaps be expressed in the following lines:--

“We are the spirits of the voice of truth. Symbols of beauty, harmony, and youth; We teach thee wisdom from the sphere above, If thou wilt listen to our song of love.

Without the darkness light cannot be known; To know truth, falsehood must be overthrown. Peace without effort would be death to thee; Nought but the battle leads to victory.

Without a struggle there’s no joy in rest; Only through evil good can manifest. Without the dust of earth no plant will grow, And no one rise who never fell below.

Nought comes from nought, and no amount of toil Will raise a fruit tree from a barren soil; But the good seed within the hot-bed needs No other help but rooting out the weeds.

Knowledge is power, but it serves you naught, Unless you practise that which you were taught; Toil without knowledge is a fruitless tree, Science unused is naught but theory.

Knowledge is power, but remember well You must yourself destroy the magic spell; And Lucifer, who came but to redeem, Redeems you only if you conquer him.”

Thus the queen of the Lotus ended her song, and floated away with her companions. The last I saw of them was a roseate light shining from the mouth of the tunnel. I then fell asleep myself, and slept until I was awakened by the blowing of horns, the blast of trumpets, and beating of drums, calling the troops together for a renewal of the fight, and those who were so inclined got up and joined the ranks.

I went to the princess, and found her to be in a pensive mood, while her loquaciousness was less than usually active--a circumstance which I attributed to the visit of the fairies. I asked her whether she had experienced a pleasant dream.

“I do not believe in dreams,” she answered. “Scientists never attribute any importance to dreams or to subjective experiences; our attention is fully engaged by the objective realities of life.”

“Confound your false science!” I said. “It deals, after all, with nothing but appearances and dreams. The fairies seemed to me very objective.”

“So you saw them?” replied Adalga. “Perhaps it was your thought-transfer which caused that hallucination.”

“Let it be what it may,” I said. “It is of little importance from what we receive a lesson; the lesson itself is that which we ought to consider.”

“We are not in the habit of accepting lessons,” she answered, “unless they come from some well-recognised authority.”

To this I answered:

“Truth is truth, no matter by whom it is uttered.”

“Prove it!” exclaimed the princess, and as I remained silent, she continued, sneeringly: “If we are asked to listen to a theory, the first thing is to inquire about the claims for credibility of him who puts them forth. Upon what authority does his assertion rest? What books can he quote for the support of his opinion? If all this is settled, we may listen to his proofs, and decide whether we will accept them or not.”

I groaned. “Alas!” I said; “in your science it is all creed, but no perception of truth.”

Off she went, and soon cries of distress were heard between the explosions that followed. The storming party was beaten back. A fresh attack was ordered, but the troops had become disheartened, and refused to enter the tunnel. Some, however, were inclined to proceed, and called the others cowards; and this led to a quarrel among the troops, which resulted in a fight, and the fight developed into an open revolt, during which it soon became plain that the mutineers were in great strength. In vain the king butted his head against everything that happened to come in his way, in vain the princess proved by irrefutable arguments that the loyal troops could not be conquered; they were beaten anyhow, and we were driven back with them in the direction of Lucifer’s temple. Soon after that we were pressed so hard that we had to seek shelter behind the walls. Multitudes thronged in after us, and many more sought to enter, but could find no room. The space became so crowded that the gnomes pushed each other, and struggled for room. Thus they pressed against the pedestal of the queen frog, some climbing upon it, others trying to climb; and in the midst of the uproar the monster began to sway, and, losing its balance, it fell.

A crash followed. The frog was broken to pieces, and volumes of poisonous vapour coming from the phosphorus filled the place. Instinctively I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again the whole assembly of gnomes had become transformed into animals. Bimbam I. had turned into an ox, rushing madly through the crowd; in the place of the commanding general stood a sheep; and, to my horror, I beheld a big goat in the place of the princess. Cravatu had become a black lizard, with yellow spots, and all the rest of the gnomes now appeared in animal forms. There were bats flying about, mice rushing into holes, spiders crawling over the walls; and two ministers, having turned into brass beetles, were rolling a ball of dirt over the ground. Cats squalled, rats whistled, frogs croaked, sheep bleated, dogs yowled and barked, and the whole was in a terrible confusion.

The goat stared at me in an offensive manner, which I was bound to resent. So I said:

“You need not stare at me in this manner. Is this your gratitude for my conferring upon you the blessings of civilisation? Is this the thanks which I am to receive from you for teaching you logic, and how to draw inferences from postulates? To you we owe all this misfortune. It is your confounded curiosity that made you meddle with things for whose conception you were not mature, and which you could not realise, that brought about this war. The stubbornness with which you kept clinging to your preconceived opinions has caused this mutiny. Now you have turned into a goat, and I can only say it served you right.”

The goat tried to speak, but brought forth only a stuttering “ma-a-a-h,” which sounded to me like the ironical laughter of a scientist of old laughing at the rotundity of the earth.

The princess--that is to say, the goat--lowered her head.

“You need not get angry!” I exclaimed, feeling somewhat alarmed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I wish that I had never seen you. I am only sorry that it is I who is to be married to a goat.”

But before I had time to finish this sentence, the goat made a vicious rush at me, and gave me a butt on my stomach which took my breath. I grasped the princess by her horns, and a struggle ensued.

Just then I heard somebody yell in an unearthly manner, and recognised the voice as that of Professor Cracker. In a moment the situation became perfectly clear to me, and I was no longer Mulligan, but Mr Schneider. Jeremiah Stiffbone was close to me, calling upon somebody to have pity upon his soul; and from under him there came forth a series of indefinite grunts, in which I recognised Mr Scalawag’s voice. The goat escaped, and I knew that we still were in that hole in the Untersberg, near the Dragon’s Den, and that my adventure among the gnomes had been only a dream.