The Sufferings of Prince Sternenhoch: A Grotesque Tale of Horror Page 2

  I was escorted out by his deepest bows. Hardly had the door closed behind me when there came the sound of someone loudly spitting. For the first few moments I was in a chaotic state, but immediately afterward there arose in me the firmest conviction that I would forget the whole affair. This filled me with delight, although at the same time I was burning with shame at all of my crazy, hussar-like bravado. But miserable fate wished that on the street, a few steps from the house, I would run into Helga and that she would look at me with her eyes wide open, enormous, terrible, indescribable. It’s a wonder that my combined fright and mysterious terror didn’t knock me down; I trembled with cold, my sight grew dark, I didn’t even greet her ...

  That meeting was decisive. The devil’s snare tightened over me unbreakably. Resistance was no longer possible. Satanic eyes haunted me day and night; I felt they would drive me mad if I didn’t deprive them of their power by calling them my own. I vacillated for another week, but it was clear to me how ridiculous, how hopeless it all was.

  I replied to the old man’s very humble letter, which reached me the very next day after my visit, indicating that Helga agreed without reservation – I replied – –

  A month later she was my wife.

  •

  She went to the altar like a sacrificial lamb; on our wedding night she behaved rather like a puppet that some little girls were playing with – – and I, like an idiot I ... I don’t want to, I cannot, I must not describe it – –

  The next morning, when I remembered everything, I felt like taking my own life from shame at what I had done ... “Perhaps she will change now that she is married, as often happens with women,” I said to myself. But now, on the contrary, she was becoming even more listless, corpselike, revolting ... She never spoke unless asked a question; when asked, she answered, but only on occasion, monosyllabically. No turtle crawls slower than she; no one met her gaze. Naturally she didn’t order the servants about. She went around dressed like a ragwoman. She took part in entertainments only when I ordered her to; yet on those occasions she obeyed better than any clock. But her appearance! ... “My dear Sternenhoch,” Willy told me, “you’re acting like Prince Stavrogin, who married a humpbacked, half-witted woman in order to cause a furore, as I read in some silly novel by Dostoevsky.” “My dear little boozer,” the crown prince spoke to me, “didn’t you take that wooden female automaton for a wife, that – what’s her name – je m’en fiche, from The Tales of Hoffmann?” But one famous poet, whom Willy once granted an audience and who was immediately dispatched with a kick in the ass, told me enthusiastically: “Too often people confuse sleeping and waking, divine repose and laziness, a slowly creeping tiger and a swine. She sleeps and sleeps and sleeps! And her awakening shall be terrible, especially for you, Herr Prince.”

  And he was right, that poetically-minded sluggard.

  Our very first wedding night had its consequences ... – I point out that I would rather have died, of disgust and of fear and of something else unknown ... than that a second time I should have – – During her advanced pregnancy I observed marked mental changes in her ... her eyes were no longer downcast but stared glassily straight ahead, into the mysterious unknown. Her gait grew faster and faster, her voice more clipped and metallic. Whereas she used to stand at the window like a statue for days, or lie on the floor like her estimable papa, now she took long walks outdoors; there were times when she spent whole nights alone in the forest. She read incessantly. A couple of times, wonder of wonders! she even laughed; she addressed me more often and would engage in a moment’s conversation as normal people do – –

  After her confinement – having borne me a lively little boy who resembled me – this state of hers soon grew more vigorous and conspicuous. Now she ordered the servants around plenty, and in such a way that the entire staff submitted to her humbly. She was always busy writing something. At moments her eyes would burn with a sinister light, but her usual mood was deeply pensive, melancholic. And I began to feel toward her, for the first time in fact, a kind of warmth and desire ... Once I resolved to lie down in her bed before she came into her room. Unperturbed, emotionless, she stared at me at length – and then left for the kennels, where she spent the entire night in the straw. I trembled with a disquieting suspicion that there would soon be some unforeseeable calamity. – And there was! But the explosion was more frightening than anything my fantasy had painted.

  I sat down overlooking the cradle of my poor son. Helga was lying some distance away on the divan and writing. I was smoothing my little worm’s short white hair and speaking to him thus:

  “My little golden tot, you’re mine, mine, aren’t you? Well, speak! At least nod your little head!” And I nodded it for him myself. “There, you see! but how could it be otherwise! After all, you look absolutely like me and not like Mommy. You don’t have her enormous, saucer-sized eyes, but such tiny ones, intimate, like mine. You have light, sparse locks like I used to have, and a tiny, round nose like a cherry, just like me –”

  There came a dreadful hiss ... frightened, I looked around to see if there wasn’t a snake in the room ... Helga continued writing peacefully, not raising her eyes ... And I, although something told me I should leave immediately, carried on, unfortunately, out of a certain reckless spite ...

  “Helmut, precious, why are you looking at Mommy like that? As if you were afraid of her ... Don’t be afraid, she won’t do anything to you, and if she wanted to smack you, Daddy wouldn’t allow it – after all, you’re just completely, completely like me –”

  I heard a frightening but muffled noise, like at the circus when a panther roars involuntarily on seeing a burning baton. And suddenly the child’s little head disappeared underneath a pillow. It fluttered – – Not knowing what this meant, I looked around and saw Helga – the face of Medusa – holding the infant by the ankle, upside down. And then the little body went flying right over its ghastly mother – I felt a horrible blow and lost consciousness.

  On regaining it, I saw my wife sitting on the ground like a Turk and smoking a cigar. Between me and her lay a small naked body motionless, skull shattered. I felt something sticky in my hair and on my face and reached up to it – blood and brains! It took me awhile to understand what had happened, as I was still unable to think straight because of the blow to my skull. And then she spoke, in a calm, terrible, altogether different voice than ever before:

  “Since childhood, mysterious powers have intoxicated my soul, bound my will. That’s the only way it could have happened that I bound myself to you who are more repulsive to me than anyone. I have shaken them off triumphantly and stand here completely new and strong and terrible; woe to all who stand in my way! You have stained me forever – not by intercourse, but by forcing me to carry your loathsomeness within me for nine months, that it became me and I, it – I could have gone mad! ... It had to perish! Remember: the nanny let a large gold paperweight fall on its head; if you say any differently, I shall proclaim – there is no witness – that you murdered it! – As of today there will be no exchange of words between us; the most necessary contact shall take place in writing, though not in your handwriting, which makes me want to retch!” And she dashed off.

  I shall be as brief as possible. I obeyed her order. The nanny’s sentence, at the personal intervention of the emperor, was raised from 4 years to 8. Helga assumed the administration of my property and, I must say, she was good at it. Everyone was terrified of her. Twice I presumed to address her and each time, first drawing on a glove, she answered me with a slap in the face that sent me reeling. The worst thing was that, as time went on, I grew ever more fond of her. For even her external appearance had changed unbelievably; she filled out, grew rosy – she became the most enchanting woman on earth. As long as she was obliging in everything, I paid no attention to her; only now, when she had become unattainable to me, did I pine for her. In my longing for her, a wretched idea occurred to me: “Once she was brought to heel as a result of her father’s beating her; perhaps a similar procedure now will render her submissive; although I wouldn’t wish her to fall a second time into her former state of apathy – but if it turned out even halfway reasonably, that would be the best thing.” And for the first time since the wedding I visited my charming father-in-law. He consented immediately. I now regret that I did not portray to him in sufficiently vivid colors the change his daughter had undergone ... I was but a meek witness to the frightful scene which took place the following day. On seeing his daughter, instead of greeting her the old man struck her across the shoulders with his scourge – and in the next instant a dagger drove right through his neck. – After a long struggle with death he recovered and swore his revenge. One night shortly afterward, Helga crawled out from the forest on all fours, white as chalk. She had been shot in the chest. But the next day, her father was found dead in the forest with a hole in his skull. Helga recovered. A certain poacher met his end at the hand of the hangman.

  From that time on she ceased to concern herself with household affairs and concentrated on other things I prefer not to mention ... Shortly thereafter she suddenly went traveling, and returned only after two years. About all the places she went and what she did, I know almost nothing. It is said she traveled to the four corners of the world and, as if the earth were too small for her, attempted, rumor has it, a trip to the bottom of the ocean, to the center of the earth from the crater of a volcano, even to Venus itself. The story was told that she was the leader of a band of brigands and that she murdered like a doctor. I believe it, for I know that after her return to Germany she took six murders on her conscience. And then there were all the other things she did besides! For example, she founded a clandestine association of the most beautiful women and adolescent boys, where they cultivated s
adism, flagellationism, masochism, lesbianism, fantastical forms of masturbation, sodomy, relations with various animated metal monsters, frightful wax figures, and even with actual specters, etc., etc. But she never had sexual intercourse with men in the usual way, being too contemptuous of them; she did not violate her marital fidelity – and this was the only thing that kept me from punishing her for her godless infamies. Finally, when there had been more than enough of her hell-raising, she was forced at the personal intervention of the emperor to leave his domain. “Your wife’s inclinations,” he told me, “are understandable, and largely praiseworthy – but you know, dear Helmut – that godless bunch of socialists without a fatherland could be impertinent and make an affaire out of this – we have scandals enough as it is ... ; you know – have Madame sail to Cameroon for a time! I shall give her my personal letter of recommendation to the governor, so he will supply her there with the black matériel for torture and other diversions, as many as is her wish!” ... – But the black men did not stimulate her – she considered them half-monkeys, and this degenerate woman never harmed animals; on the contrary, it happened several times that on seeing someone tormenting an animal, she shot the person without ceremony.

  When she returned from Africa just half a year later, she brought a fine kettle of fish back with her: a lion, a tiger, a black panther, and a jaguar, altogether magnificent, enormous specimens. She appropriated the greater part of the huge gardens – at least one square kilometer in area, to make a zoo for them. She fed them, so that they would have the pleasure of hunting, live sheep, goats, horses, and bulls; and she even bought them hippopotamuses and rhinoceroses. Sometimes it made for a pretty sight. She would spend whole days in their voluptuous company, always without weapons, usually completely naked. But no one can imagine how they all loved her. When they saw her coming from afar they flew to the bars and roared until all the windows in the chateau rattled. And when she went in to them – what enormous, grotesque leaping there was around her, over her! Looking upon it from outside, though I was trembling, I sometimes burst out laughing. They embraced her, lay down on their backs in front of her like dogs, nuzzled her and licked her – and then roaring in laughter from sheer joy, they at once tussled with each other and in general acted so zanily it was as if they possessed reason. And in zaniness she was not to be outdone by them. She walked on all fours, and tried, the poor woman, to imitate their roars and leaps, scuffled with them, rode on their backs, clambered up the trees in front of them and leaped down as they caught her in their paws – I’m surprised that all of her ribs weren’t broken. She kissed their snouts, she licked their – I won’t even say what, she masochistically let them lick her whole body with their prickly tongues until she was completely bloody. And then she – – –. She was eager to have offspring; that according to her caprice, nature would humbly make an exception to its laws. And how she spoke to them! As tenderly as a mother to her infant child. She delivered hour-long lectures to them, on philosophy, God, the concept of the Self ... And they didn’t even budge the whole time, their hellish eyes fixed upon her – no professor of philosophy could have wished for a more appreciative lecture hall. – But most of all she sang them melancholy songs and – cried, ashamed of doing so – and covered and dried her face with the lion’s mane and the tiger’s whiskers.

  For – she had been transformed! Her wildness had disappeared, and except for her mischief-making with the beasts she no longer kicked up trouble so extravagantly. Constantly lost in convulsions of thought, she merely scribbled and played the piano, badly. For whole days she would run frantically back and forth through the rooms and, as if someone were strangling her, she would howl for whole nights. And she was becoming sadder, more depressed, and worse. She became pale again, and grew thin ... “May she turn back into a dead puppet!” I exulted to myself. “Then she shall be mine once again! ... God grant that she become silly again!” – for a secret desire for her flesh was eating at me more and more – and then again, why shouldn’t it have? Was it not mine by rights? Was she not mine? What do we have laws for? What do we have church sanctities and sacraments for? I was filled with rage that I wasn’t permitted to touch my undisputed property; would it not enrage anyone that he could not enter an apartment he had rented and paid for honestly? What a beggar she was! But – alas! She actually has everything of mine, and I nothing of my own! What good are my boundless riches to me, when but one deadly look from her – and everything is hers? ...

  Once again she stopped speaking, barely ate. She would play with a revolver for hours. “Oh, what shall I do with this life?” I once heard her groan on such an occasion. “Such horrid darkness – darkness everywhere ... ; is there light anywhere? ... Ach, there is not! darkness is light, and light darkness. And all is but an abyss of madness ... O – my Soul. – People say, ‘God help me!’ But how can you help me, who am utterly lacerated? ... But – – have I not Will? ... Yet it is even more constricted, more lacerated than any of my animal instincts ... There is nothing, nothing in it – a rag! ... Oh why? why? ... Ach, I know! Because I am a woman, just a woman! ...”

  That was how she ranted then – and she continued to wither away ... “Now is the time!” I finally said to myself, and in a rush of heroism I wrapped my hands around the nape of her neck. In short order I lost my last two front teeth. But she withered away even more ...

  And here she was – 23 years old, it was a brilliant, hot August – and again she underwent a most striking transformation.

  Now she was suddenly laughing, leaping about, and even dancing, murmuring joyful songs to herself; she often looked in the mirror, smiled at herself – and was immediately overcome by tears – but they were in no way tragic. She ordered a quantity of exquisite clothes, the finest linens from Berlin: she hadn’t looked after herself at all before, often going around dressed like a ragged woman – believing she did not need to enhance her beauty with beautiful clothing. And she became truly kind toward everyone, even friendly; and the most amazing thing was, she even addressed me a few times, and flattered me, of course hardly without irony. Encouraged, I said once: “Helga, is it true that love for me is finally awakening in you?” “Oh, you stupid clod!” she laughed – became merry as an idiot and hopped away.

  It seems to me that she was right: perhaps it would never have occurred to me what the simple reason for all this was, if I had not learned the truth, purely by chance. –

  We were living at my castle, Rattentempel, in the Harz Mountains. In an enormous black building, one of the oldest, most impressive medieval monuments in Germany.

  On the twelfth of August I was dawdling in the massive castle tower, busying myself with the pigeons. At 2 in the afternoon I saw Helga leave for her usual walk, from which she returned only at night. She was wearing a seductive, light azure dress. I played with the birds for about another half-hour, then by chance I spotted a blue dot in the distance. “It must be her,” I said to myself, and I thought it was strange that I could still even see her.

  And suddenly, remembering that there was a rather strong telescope in the tower, I had a longing to see her, though far away, just as if she were right in front of me. A moment later I was clearly making out her tigerish, already-flushed profile. She quickly dashed forward, as if she were chasing a hare. I even caught sight of her blissful smile. After a while she began to climb a knoll ...

  I was on the point of tearing my face from the glass – – when I saw on the knoll the figure of a man coming up from the other side. A dark and somehow ghastly thought, I don’t know why, went through me: “Fate: why did I not turn my eye from the telescope a second earlier?”

  Helga reached the top and suddenly disappeared, as if she had fallen in a hole. A minute later the man also emerged. Helga reappeared, spread her arms – – and fell into his embrace.

  This event affected me more powerfully than almost anyone would have guessed. I have given but little description of all the sufferings my marriage had caused me thus far; in spite of this, probably every reader will say, logically, after all that had already happened, that this event should hardly have fazed me. But feelings are irrationelle, mad; and a wife’s unfaithfulness, that most ignominious of things, is always terrible for a husband. My one consolation in all my troubles with her was that until now Helga had not violated her fidelity in another man’s embrace; and this one bright point was now extinguished. The whole world leered at me like the night. All the horrible aspects of my bond with this devil rose before me like specters, all the bleak memories descended upon me like swarms of hornets ... The whole night through, my terrible pain and my still more terrible anger did not let me sleep a wink. I was inflamed with such longing to strangle, slash, and grind into dust that female monster. I swore to wreak the most awful revenge on her ...