THlloPHILE GAUTIER (1811-1872)

The Coffee Rot

A Fantastic Tale

Translated by David Coward

This sight I saw high in heaven:Stars (they were eleven)And also Moon and Sun

Bowed down to me asone,and in silence keptTheir heads bent all the time I slept

Joseph'sVision

I

Last year, I was invited, together with a couple of friends from the studio,Arrigo Cohic and Pedrino Borgnioli, to spend a few days on a countryestate in the depths of Normandy.

.The weather when we set out promised to be superb but made up itsmind to change all of a sudden, and so much rain fell that the sunken

. lanes along which we'waJ1<edturned into raging torrents..'We were soon up to our knees in mire. A thick layer of sticky mud

clung to the soles of our boots and, being very heavy, so slowed ourprogress that we did not reach our destination until an hour after the sunhad set.

. We were exhausted. Accordingly, as soon as we had finished dinner,our host, observing the efforts we made to stifle our yawns and keep oureyesopen, had us shown to our rooms.

Mine was huge; As I went through the door, I felt a nervous shiver, forI liad the impression that I was entering a different world.. And I.might well have been, for I seemed to have stepped back into theRegency period to judge by the Boucher paintings of the four seasonsover the doors, the furniture cluttered up with rococo ornaments ofappalling taste, and the mirrors in their heavy carved frames.

Nothing had been disturbed. The dressing table, strewn with comb-cases and powder-puffs, looked as though it had been in use the day

The Coffee Pot

~efore.Two or three shot-silk dresses and a fan spangled with silver~f,quinslittered the highly polished floor and, to my great surprise, a~oitolse-shell snuffbox stood open on the mantelpiece, its contents still:resh.'

~,d.dld not notice all this until the footman, setting down the candlestick:h,tb<!.bedsidetable, had wished mea'good night's sleep, But then, I

ely admit, I began to shake like a leaf. I undressed quicldy; got intor~d"and to banish my ridiculous fears, turned my face to the wall and

~osed my eyes!Ihb'bt I found it impossible to remain in this position. The bed heaved~ifder me like a wave and my eyelids were forced open. I had no choice~bt.to turn and look.

f,lirhe flickering flames in the hearth cast a reddish glow aver the room(8that it was perfectly possible to make out the people in the tapestries",f!I)ld.thefacesof the smoke-blackened portraits which hung on the walls.,''''These were of our host's ancestors,' knights. in armour, bewigged~tincillors, and handsome ladieswith painted facesand white-powderediilir; each holding a rose. .,. Suddenly, the fireblazed up in the strangest way.An unearthly bright-. iess'ilIuminatedthe room and I sawquite clearlythat what I had taken

\IDta mere collection of paintings was in fact real. The eyesof the person-.~es in their frames moved and glinted eerily. Their lips opened and~osed as mouths do when people speak, but all I heard was the ticking of,the'clock and the sigh of the autu)11nwind.~.';I'was overcome by a feeling of Irresistil>Ieterror. My hair stood \Infend;"myteeth ch

,

attered until I thought they would break, and my wholef.~odybroke out in a cold sweat.~[ The clockstruck eleven.The reverberation ohhe last stroke hung longtin ihe air and when it died awaycompletely. . .

k But no, I hardly dare say what happened next, no one would believe~lDeand people would think me mad.'F The candles acquired flames spontaneously. The bellows; wheezing~Iikean asthmatic old man, though no human hand could be seen work-,Ingit, breathed life into the fire, while a pair of tongs raked through the

t~bers and the ash was collected by a pan.,. Then a coffee pot jumped off a table where it had been standing and"waddled to the fireplacewhere it settled on the glowing coals.:-'J!Almost immediately the 'armchairs began to quiver and, stirring their':twisted legs in the most amazing fashion, advanced to form a half-circlearound the hearth.

31

Thtophile Gautier

II

I had no idea what to ntake of what I was seeing. But what I was abouHosee was more extraordinary still. f

One of the portraits, the most ancient, of a stout man with roundcheeks and a grey beard who looked exactly as I had alwaysimagined oldSir John Falstaffmust have looked, poked his head out of his frame witha scowl and then, after a struggle, heaved his shoulders anil vast stomachthrough the narrow square and jumped heavily to the floor.

When he had. caught his breath, he took from the pocket of hisdoublet a tiny key. He blew on it to make sure the blade was clean andthen inserted it into every frame in turn.

The frames expanded until they were large enough for all the personsthey held to step out quite easily.

Rosy-cheeked clerics, withered, yellow-skinned dowagers, grave-faced magistrates wreathed in long black robes, fops in silk stockings andsloe-coloured breeches with. the point of their swords held high-allthese figures made such a bizarre sight that, despite my fears, I could nothelp but laugh.

These worthies then sat down. The coffee pot hopped nimbly backon to the table. They drank their coffee from blue-and-white Japaneseporcelain cups which came ruiming spontaneously from a cabinet, eacham.ving Withits own sugar lump and dainty silver spoon.. When they had finished with the coffee, pot, cups, and spoons van-

, ished in a trice and they thtm began a conversation which was the weirdestI eVet heard, for none of the strange participants looked at the otherswhen they spoke but kept their eyesglued to the clock.

I too found it impossible not to look at it nor could I prevent myselffollowing the hands which crawled towards midnight ,with barelyperceptiblemovements. "

Finally, midnight struck. A voice whose timbre exactly matched that. of the clock boomed out. It said:

'All change! It's time for dancing!'The entire company rose. The chairs moved back of their own

accord. Then each gentleman took the hand of a lady and the same voicesaid:

'And now, members ofthe orchestra, music please!'I'omitted to mention that the subject of the tapestry at one end of the

rooin was a group of Italian musicians and at the other a stag-huntwhich included a number of huntsmen blowing horns. Both they and

The Coffee Par

~~::musicia~s who, u~ t~ this point, had 'not moved a m~cIe;' ~ow'11000their headsto 10dlcatethat theywereready, ' " " .,<),

'j''iie;maestro raised his baton and lively,.rhythmiC-ftnisiC:'struckfup, . ,.' ,"

,~dk.pposite sides of the room; First they danced a minuet. ",' .' .."';(

,~~But the rapid notes of the score from which the' musicians",;,ereii)1~y;ngwere'at variancewith gravebowing and curtseyingand Wiihin.~in.ents each couple began to whirl round and round like spinning~s:the ladies' silk dresses; brushing against each other in thisdancmg1\i:~ISttom,made a distinctive sound, rather like the flapping wings of

~~ns in flight. The air rising from the floor made their skirts swell1Wdi~ously, with the result that they looked like so many handbells set11'.' .}!!.~otlon. .~:,~e bows of the fiddlers flewso quickly across the stnngs that sparks~f electricity were given off, the fingers of the flautists rose and fell as

lthough made of quicksilver, the huntsmen's cheeks were as big as

11!I;~00ns,and together they all made a deluge of such busy notes imdi Yrills,of such convoluted scales which rose and fell, that not even thef~evilsof hell could have kept up with that tempo for two minutes.

':'..It was a pitiful sight to watch the efforts made by the dancers to keepIupwith the rhythm. They hopped and skipped, flung theidegs out,

executed jet~s, performed entrechats three feet off the ground uniil thef'perspiration which ran from their foreheads into their eyes washed away".their face-powder and beauty patches. But it was no use, the orchestra",.was always three or four notes ahead of them.

'" The clock struck one. They stopped. Then I saw something which had\' escaped my attention: a woman who had not danced.

( " Shewas sitting in a wing-chair in one corner of the hearth and seemed.' sU\Jremelyindifferent to what was going on around her.

Never, not even in my dreams, had I set eyes on so perfect a creature.Dazzling white skin, ash-blond hair, long eyelashes, and blue eyes so

. limpid arid so transparent that through them I could see her soul as

j' clearly as a pebble on the bed of a stream... Instantly I knew that if ever I were to fall in love, it would be with

} her. I leapedout of my bed in which until that point I had remained, paralysed, and walked towards her, impelled by some inner force which,', I' could not explain. Then I found myself kneeling before her, with

her hand in mine, chatting away as though I had known her for twenty1; years.

I Yet, through some very mysterious phenomenon. I noticed as I talked. that my head nodded in time to the music which had not stopped!

Thtophile Gautier

playing. And although I could not have been happier than to be talkingto such a beautiful creature, my feet were itching to dance with her., However, I did not dare suggest it. But she seemed to understandwhat I wanted, for she raised the hand I was not holding and, poil'ting tothe clock-face, said:

'Whenthe pointer reachesthere,weshallsee,dearestTht!odore: ,

I cannot explain why but I was not in the least surprised to hear myselfcalled by my name and we went on chatting together. Eventually, thetime she had indicated struck and the voice of the silver-toned bell rever-berated through the room once more:

'Angela, you may dance with the gentleman if that is your wish. Butyou know what the consequence will be:

'I don't care,' said Angela sulkily.She put her creamy, ivory arm around my neck.'Prestissimo!'cried the voice.

And we began to waltz. Angela's bosom was touching my chest, hervelvet cheek brushed against mine, and her sweet breath hovered overmy mouth.

I had never felt such emotion in all my life. My nerves quivered likesteel springs, blood coursed through my veins like a torrent oflava, and Iheard my heart beat as loudly as though I had a watch attached to eachear. .

Yet there was nothing distressing in my situation. I bubbled withunutterable happiness and wished I could have gone on like this for ever.

, Oddly enough, although the orchestra was now playing three times asfast.-wedid not have to make any conscious effort to keep up.

The onlookers, amazed by our nimbleness, shouted 'Bravo!' andclapped th'eir hands for all they were worth, though this produced nosound.

, Angela, who up to this point had waltzed with astoundiilg energy andsurefootedness, suddenly seemed to tire. She leaned on my shoulder asti!ough her legs were about to give way. Her tiny feet which only themoment before had skimmed the floor, now grew sluggish and earth-bound, as though lead weights had been attached to them.

"Angela, you're tired,' I said. 'Shall we rest a moment?''Very well,' she replied, wiping her brow with her handkerchief. 'But

wl)ilewe've been waltzing, the others have'all sat down. There's onlyonechair left and there are two of us.'

'Does it matter, my angel?You shall sit on my knee:

..

The Coffee Pot

III,

"tliout raisingthe leastobjection,Angelasat down, curlingher armS~brindmy neck like a white scarf,burying her head in my chesUor

'Jirtnth, for shehad becomeascoldas marble. " .,

:~:I'cannot say how long we remained in that position for all my sensesWereengaged by my contemplation of this mysterious, magical creature.

'~t h.ad ceased to have any notion of time and place. The world noloh,s~rexisted for me and allthe ties which bound me to it were snapped.

';,soul, freed from its earthly prison, hovered in the fathomless realms

'~6 m~~ity. I underst~od what no .man can understand, for Angela's~~~ghts were transmItted to me WIthout need of speech. For her soul~»Hre.out ~f her like an alabaster lam~ and the light radiating fro!,! her~eart ilIummed every dark recess of mme.~"~:iirk began to sing and the curtains were suffused by a pale glow.

~hI~e instant Angela became aware of it, she stood up qui~kly with a:~f~Hlreof farewell, took a fewsteps, gave a cry, and collapsed m a heap.iitpripped by fear, I rushe~ to help her to her feet. . . My blood runs

«old at the mere thought of It: all I found was the coffee pot smashed to

~mithereens./i',When I saw it, I was convinced that I had been the victim of someidlabolicalillusion. I was seized by such dread that I fainted clean away.N'

!~....t'l- ,

~1 "IV,

fWhen I came to my senses, I was lying dOwn"comfortably tucked itp.

fA~rigoCohic and Pedrino Borgoioli were standing by my bedside.

I

,' The moment I opened my eyes,Arrigo exclaimed:(.:~And about time too! I've been rubbing your temples with eau deC

,

ologoe for nearly an hour. What the devil did you get up to last night?'When I noticed you hadn't come down this morning, I came up to see

j.where you were and found you stretched out on the floor, got up like~an old-time French gentleman clutching a piece of broken porcelain1crockery as though it was a pretty girl.';: 'Good lord! These are the clothes my grandfather wore to hisE wedding,' said our host.., And he raised one of the coat-tails which was pink silk patterned with

green leaves.'These are the paste and filigree buttons he was always telling us about.

I expect Th~odore found it somewhere or other and put it on for a laugh:

'By the bye, what came over you?' asked Borgnioli. 'Fainting should beleft to pretty girls with shoulders like alabaster. Gives you an excuse for

. loosening her laces, r~moving her collars, her scarf. . . creates no end ofopportunities for flirting.' I

'I just felt faint. I do sometimes,' I replied sharply.I got up and took off the ridiculous costume I Waswearing.TIienwe had lunch. ' ..My three friends ate large quantities and drank even more: But I

hardly touched a thing, for the memory ~f what had happened ;;;asstrangely distracting.

When lunch was over it was pouring with.rain and there was no ques-tion of our going out. We each amused ourselves as best we could;Borgnioli tapped out military marches on the window panes, Arrigo andour host played draughts, and I took a square of thick paper from mysketchbook and began to draw.

The faint, barely visible outline traced by my pencil, to whose meander-ing I gave no conscious thought, ended up looking like an amazinglyaccurate picture of the coffee pot which had played a central role in theprevious night's drama.

'Extraordinaryl That face looks exactly like my sister Angela,' said ourhost who, having finished his game, was watching me work over myshoulder.

. He'was right. What a moment before had looked to me like a coffeepot was actually the profile of sweet, melancholy Angela.. 'By all the saints in heaven! Is she living or dead?' I exclaimed in avoice which shook as though my very life depended on his answer.

'She died two years ago of pneumonia. Came down with it after a ball.''Alas!' I replied sorrowfully.And holding back a tear which was about to fall, I replaced the sheet in

. my sketchbook. 'I had just realized that from that day forth there would be no hap-

.piness for me in this life!