But music's sister-art, poetry, which had not yet been proclaimed as its Siamese twin, as it was later in the artistic works of the future, must not be omitted. For Neukuhren possessed a much-made-of visitor in the young poet Schöner, who on this occasion must tune his lyre, all the more so because he was a friend of the young betrothed. Her engagement was really tantamount to a refusal for him, and it was a strange suggestion that he should celebrate that refusal with his poetical flowers; but Eva belonged already to his recollections, his love for her was now but a poetical page in his album; the renunciation was no longer hard for him. But another difficulty arose, his muse which was accustomed to sing the dawn of day on the political horizon, and the resurrection of nations, was not adapted for such domestic events; he could not discover the right key for it, such social and drawing-room poetry was not worthy of him, and reduced him to despair. He sprang up from his work-table and with hurried steps walked up and down the room. When he began to compose about roses, he always thought of the sword beneath the roses, the sword of Harmodius and Aristogiton, that he loved to wield in verse against all tyrants, and that which he was used to sing of passion's devouring flames was not fitted for a bridal idyll.
Schöner was obliged to curb his glowing fancy.
At last he had managed to produce a marriage poem, but when he read it over, he was alarmed at the reminiscences of the bridesmaids' wreath of violet silk which had slipped in. Schiller certainly had created no master-piece when he addressed Demoiselle Slevoigt in a nuptial poem--
"Zieh holde Braut mit unserm Segen,
Zieh hin auf Hymen's Blumenwegen."
Yet a few verses reminded one of that poem, and "the wreath's solemn adornment" had passed unnoticed in his ode. He tore it up angrily, rushed out into the air, and implored the Muses for only a few original ideas, that would be suitable for such a purpose, which the most commonplace mortals do not lack, if ever on a similar occasion they mount their Pegasus. The super-abundance of genius with which he was endowed weighed heavily upon him, he longed for the intellectual level of an impromptu poet, who could daily shake a wedding ode out of his sleeve. The collegian Salomon was going about at the same time with the criminal thought of also reciting a sonnet, that he hoped to put together out of Heine and his extracts, and which should not be so harmless as an every-day congratulatory poem; he wanted to introduce a meaning, a fine poisoned meaning, which should only be comprehensible to the bride, which he intended to plunge into her heart like a vengeful dagger. In a lonely hollow walk, overgrown with sting-nettles he scanned the deadly verses on his fingers, until the murderous iambus flowed evenly upon its four feet without a halting choliambus. Had not Archilochos written satirical iambi the unhappy objects of which had hanged themselves in despair, what result might not be attained by a similar poetical production? What an effect, if he presented a bouquet to the bride-elect and a wasp flew out of it into her face, furnished with a sting such as Alphonse Karr's guèpes possessed, which at that time were so much liked by him!
As the arts, so was also the study of nature called into request, so as not to be wanting at the bridal ovation. A physician worked earnestly at the most uncertain of all studies, that of the weather, and gazed hopefully at the two barometers which he had brought with him to discover whether, in the evening, the full moon which was astronomically assured, might not be overcast by clouds of rain, and whether the dance could be carried out beneath the pear tree undisturbed by events of nature.
Doctor Reising and his Euphrasia had been towed back by her jealous sisters to the family table. They arrived exactly at the exciting moment in which Herr von Blanden introduced his betrothed.
Father Baute, who easily confused his daughters' names, was supported by Doctor Kuhl, the latter, alarmed at no feminine plural, calling out one after another as if at muster-roll.
Eva felt strange amongst all the strange faces. None was capable of inspiring her with immediate interest. Even the prettiest of the daughters, Lori, had a watchful smile that betokened mischief.
Blanden's invitation was accepted with many thanks. Hardly had he retired with his betrothed before the Baute family started noisily out of the respectful silence with which they had listened to the strange gentleman's words, and suddenly resembled a swarming bee-hive.