1822 01054 2876 j* .',-: ^ ^^H ^^^J ] ' - - m ,-. 3 1822 01054 2876 WITH THE PUBLISHER'S COMPLIMENTS. \TJie Published Price of this Book is. CALlFOftNlA (AN PIS IN TERN A TIONA L II UMO UR. EDITED BY W. H. DIRCKS. THE HUMOUR OF GERMANY. "HE WAS TOO POND OF DELIVKKING LONG SI'EKCIIES AT THE ALEHOUSE." (See page 410. THE HUMOUR OF GERMANY SELECTED AND TRANSLATED, WITH INTRODUCTION AND BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX, BY HANS J^ULLER-CASENOV: WITH ITTLUSTRATIONS BY C. E. BROCK. LONDON WALTER SCOTT 1892 LTD. CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . xi MASTER Fox, THE CONKESSOR Hugo von Trimberg (1260-1309) i ST. PETER'S LESSON Hans Sachs (1494-1576) . . .4 A RAID ON THE' PARSON'S KITCHEN Christoffel von Grimmels- hausen (1620-1676) . . . . . ,6 THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE Ludivig Tieck (1773-1853) . 12 THE UNACCOUNTABLE STRANGER Ludwig Tieck . . 24 VAN DER KABEL'S -LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT / H. von Kahlenberg . . 255 WOOING THE GALLOWS W. H. Riehl . . .261 ELECTIVE AFFINITIES Franz von Schonthan . . . 274 HOT PUNCH -Julius Stinde . . . 281 WOMAN Bogumil Golz (1801-1870) . . 284 A CHRISTMAS TALE Eduard Potzl . 288 THE CASE OF MINCKWITZ Paul Lindau . 293 STUDENTS' SONGS OLD AssYRiAN-JoNAH-^/iw^ Victor Scheffel . . 304 HEINZ VON STEIN .... , c BRIGAND SONG -,,->/; jOO A FARTHING AND A SIXPENCE Count Albert von Schlippenbach .... -.07 THE TEUTOBURGER BATTLE-^/. V. Scheffel . 308 THE LAST PAIR OF BREECHES/. V, Scheffel . .311 X CONTENTS. STUDENTS' SONGS (toittinuat) PAOB KNDERLE VON KETSCII -J. V. Schcffcl . . 313 Goo AND THK LovKR Old German . 316 UNINTENTIONAL WITTICISMS OK THE ABSENT-MINDED GER- MAN PROFESSOR . . . 317 THE INCARCERATION OK THE HEKR PROFESSOR Ernst Eckstein . . . . 320 OUR WAR-CORRESPONDENT -Julius Stcttenheim . 335 SciiNORi's' SWALLOW-TAIL Fritz Brentano . . . 339 THE MAN OF ORDER Johannes Scherr . . 352 THE LUXURY OK GOING ABOUT INCOGNITO Hans Arnold . 359 THE INNER LIFE OF THE SECOND-CLASS CAB-DRIVER Ernst von Wildenbruch . . 382 ISuN-MoTS . . 404 THE KARI.Y DAYS OK A GENIUS Wilhelm Kaabe . . 408 NEWSPAPER HUMOUR ...... 423 BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX OK WRITERS . . 431 INTRODUCTION. IN endeavouring to bring together examples of so significant and at the same time elusive a phase of national character literary as well as psychological as a nation's humour, it were of course vain to seek to make each selection typical in itself typical, that is, in the sense of referring to the broad basis of a nation's individuality in respect of its humour as distinguished from other nations. A general idea can only be obtained by scanning a broad field ; here, as elsewhere, details have little meaning unless considered in their relation to the broader outlook. A constant interplay of varied influences has to be taken into account. The purely national aspect is obtruded upon by the indi- viduality of each author, which nowhere expresses with such effect as in the literature of humour. The time of writing, considered historically, with its political tendencies, has also to be considered ; its church dependence perhaps, and the peculiar trend of its social interests. It is intruded upon also by the time considered in its relation to literature as a whole, to the tendencies of form and style predominant at given periods. Furthermore, there are strictly local peculiarities, sub- dividing Germany itself. It is more especially these that the student of literature, unless he be also a student of ethnological influences, is likely to wrongly estimate, while it is of the utmpst importance that they be borne in mind to arrive at a just view of qualities that oversway minor differences, which are often the first to catch the eye. The more the Comic Muse is bound within the narrow limits of place, time, and personality, the more is she in her element She of all muses is a painter xii INTRODUCTION. of detail, versed in the art of reproducing punctiliously those petty traits which disengage her subject from all broader problems, and make it effective in proportion to its unimportance to the world's general affairs. Writers upon the theory of humour are apt to deplore the absence of just such local land-marks in Germany as are strongly characteristic and still recognisable to the foreigner. It would appear to me that they have done so with some injustice. The Volkscharacler of southern and northern Ger- many, of the lowlands, and the Franco- Bavarian and Suabian districts, even of the various centres of civilisation, the large towns, is abundant in those differentiating qualities which go to make up originality of manner. The modes of thought and feeling characterising the population of different districts bear a stamp so distinct that one is inclined to consider them more strongly marked by provincial locality than by nationality. In these days dialect proper, having gained the prestige of comparative rarity, like a peasant's national costume, or a bit of bric-a-brac^ has been favoured by the humorist, although its reproduction in our literature has well-nigh insurmountable difficulties to cope with. The Low German, one of the most interesting of German dialects, because, historically, the most intact, and the most incapable of amalgamation with the language that has superseded it, had been left to grow rusty so far as literature was concerned, until Fritz Reuter rescued it from threatening oblivion, and made it the vehicle of a naive and spontaneous genre of humour, to which it lent itself with singular charm and appropriateness. The cause of the former neglect of Low German as a means of literary expression was very obvious, and there was no gain- saying the justice of it viz., that it is used to-day only by the lower classes of Northern Germany, and that among readers there is but a very limited number to whom it is more com- prehensible than a foreign language would be. It is this fact also which explains why Fritz Reuter, the most intimate and sympathetic of German humorists, although extensively read, has never attained the widest popularity. Fundamentally, the German character appears to be averse to humour. Its mirth does not come to it spontaneously, a gift INTRODUCTION. xiil of the gods, arising out of the mere exuberance of being. This nation shares the temperament of all northern races, it moves more to the minor strains of feeling, to the Adagio which Richard Wagner found so aptly expressive of its character. It is quick to respond to things mystic, and yearns over the vague grace of twilight moods. It worships at the shrine of the hapless Prince of Denmark. I say fundamentally, for, looking at the life of the nation as it appears to-day, in those pleasures of the lower and middle classes which have their scene of action in the out-of-door world, there would appear to be in plenty a spirit of merry-making and pleasure-seeking inherent in the German character. The mere primitive love of a good time, however, is inseparably connected with those classes repre- senting, in a manner, a child-like stage of intellectual develop- ment the world over, and is not characteristic in any special sense of the German people. It is safe to admit that a certain lightness of disposition, which seems indispensable to the humorous attitude, is absent among those race-qualities which go to make up the German nature pure and simple. If the nation has developed within itself those germs which have blossomed into a sense of the humorous ; if it has passed through all those early stages of per- ception and expression which have culminated in a humorous literature of sturdy strength ; if it has found at length a humorous literature (with Gottfried Keller for its prophet, and F. T. Vischer for its critic and exponent), it is due probably to a complexity of influences somewhat difficult to determine. However free in its purely literary aspect humour may be from all ulterior purpose and aim, the tale of its growth with us is largely interwoven with impulses received from outside sources and sources didactic and philosophical. Outwitting the devil, the theme that recurs again and again as the oldest form of farcical expression in mediaeval Germany, meant dealing with the stresses of adverse circumstance. This was the first step taken on the road to humour in Germany. The Powers of Evil had all the brute force upon their side ; there was no coping with them, except by sharpening one's wits and irritat- ing them by practical jokes until they might yield. The laugh that followed had all the hard ring of the victor's triumphant Xiv INTRODUCTION. scorn. Early satirical writings were imbued with a like spirit. There was the lash to be swung at some enemy, and derision at his downfall was tempered by no kindlier emotion. There was a grim attitude of self-defence throughout it all. Indeed, it is only in going back painfully step by step that one is enabled to discern in this early literature the germs of humour at all. The farces and puppet-shows at country fairs and the burlesques at the early theatre began to make room for the idea of retaliation. It became a question of clown against clown. The supremacy was never yielded long to one side. Laying aside all personal interest in the matter for the time being, there was an impartial shout of laughter at him who got the most kicks and cuffs. The popular mind began to rise above the situation, to put itself in the position of an unbiassed spectator, and to take delight in merely putting down whatever asserted itself. As an instance of this may be counted the practice of granting the devil, or a person disguised as such, a hearing in church on certain days of the year instead of the parish priest Then the sense of discrepancy between things great and small, things important and unimportant, the world of the senses and the world of the spirit, began to enter the popular perception, the impossibility of reconciliation, and, as a consequence, the pleasure of turning this world topsy-turvy, and so demonstrating the supremacy of the individual. Side by side with this development, or partly perhaps based upon it, went the philosophic development. Thinkers, dreamers, and philosophers went on constructing a universe according to the laws of their individual minds, a universe containing nothing at all to be laughed at, and for many decades scholars were deeply buried in obstruse problems and finely-spun theories and systems, the lighter muse of poetry and art for the most part following but humbly and timorously from afar. But when philosophy and theology had spoken at large, and the mystery and fatal contradiction at the heart of things had not been unravelled, the pale brooding of some turned to melancholy, with others it turned to boisterous living and philosophic indifferentism. INTRODUCTION. XV Then it was that irony, directed upon the inordinate intel- lectual ambitions of man, removed him half imperceptibly into the sphere of the ludicrous. Self-irony may be the result of misanthropy, but it is certainly the beginning of a cure. One finds oneself to be made up of two absurdly contradicting hemispheres, as well as the rest of the world ; the sense of the universal incongruity seems to make the case less tragic. To pass through this stage into the clearer atmosphere of con- scious reconciliation with the actuality of things, of placid acceptance of the ups and downs, the shortcomings inherent in things, and in human nature withal, into the atmosphere of pure humour, unperturbed by the possibility of personal disappointment, is a long step, easy to some, to others im- possible. And it would seem that German Humour taking the term in its widest sense as signifying subjective apprehension on the one hand and artistic expression on the other is less the result of a temperamental predisposition than the culmination of a development. With a turn for flaccid sentimentalism, and by nature inclined to take them- selves very seriously, it was a reaction, a bankruptcy in meta- physical methods that inaugurated and established something of a humorous Weltanschammg. The often oppressively heavy Zeitgeist has borne along its own corrective in the literature of two centuries as on an ever-strengthening under-current. There have been silent forces at play working imperceptibly through the innate robustness of the national character. It was this undeniable robustness which could not for long brook the extravagancies of weak emotionalism. Revolt was opened upon it on the one hand by the spirit of exact science, on the other by the need of aesthetic equilibrium. These two tendencies, the aesthetic and the scientific, are still contending for the field with much ado and bustle in some quarters. Though a nation counting Heine and Lichtenberg among its own, it is not in the spielende Urtheil, as Jean Paul has called inspired sallies of wit, that German humour specially dis- tinguishes itself; now and again there it has its moods of riotous absurdity ; but where it is most characteristic is in the telling of the humorous tale, lovingly handled in its details, the pathetic verging very near upon the comic, finally succumbing xvi INTRODUCTION. in a ripple of good -n.itu red laughter at somebody or other who is really not so very bad, but only very human, and for whose misfortunes poor devil ! we may have a kindly feeling. Then we have a mastership in spectral stories, uncanny and imagina- tive, leaving the reader's mind in a delightful condition of doubt .is to their actual meaning and significance ; and we have also the expression of the spirit of poetic adventure, a determina- tion to have fun at all hazards, cither with the public or else at the public, if perchance it should prove too dull to be taken into partnership. There is much of this in Chamisso's Peter Schlemihl, which, in the face of many dizzy structures of elucida- tion that have been based upon it, remains so truly humorous and so profoundly touching. It is by no means always the funny element that predominates in German writings of a humorous tendency. Their office seems to be more to suggest the effect which these lighter moods of fancy have upon the serious affairs of life, and in studying the humour of Germany in a spirit of literary criticism it is indispensable to take these two aspects in their action and reaction upon each other. There is a psychical development of the individual which runs parallel to that of the nation. In confirmation of the theory of humorous development here faintly outlined, it may be said that in Germany, humorous perception is for the most part not the possession of youth. It is not until the need of a corrective to a habit of speculative brooding has been felt that imperceptibly and unconsciously healthful minds rise to those dispassionate heights whence the Occidental Brahmin gazes upon a motley world. HANS MULLER-CASENOV. [For Acknowledgments to Authors and Ful>/ishers, see page 430.] THE HUMOUR OF GERMANY. MASTER FOX, THE CONFESSOR. '"PHEY overtook the Ass, and so * All three to Rome together go. And when they saw the city near, The Wolf said to his cousin dear : " Reynard, my plan I'll name to you : The Pope, we know, has much to do ; I doubt if he can spend his time To hear our catalogues of crime. 'Twill spare some trouble for the Pope (And also- for ourselves, I hope, As we may 'scape with penance less), If to each other we confess. Let each describe his greatest sin, So, without preface, I'll begin. To notice trifles I disdain ; But one fact gives my conscience pain. 'Tis this there dwelt beside the Rhine A man who lived by feeding swine. He had a sow who rambled wide While all her pigs with hunger cried. I punished her in such a way That never more she went astray. GERMAN HUMOUR. Her little ones, deserted now, Oft moved my pity, I'll avow; I ended all their woes one night Now let my punishment be light ! " " Well," said the Fox, " your sin was small, And hardly can for penance call ; For such a venial transgression You've made amends by this confession. " BUT NOW THE ASS MUST BE CONFESSED." And now I'll do as you have done Of all my sins I'll name but one : A man such noisy fowls would keep, That no one near his house could sleep ; The crowings of his chanticleer Disturbed the country far and near. MASTER FOX, THE CONFESSOR. Distracted by the noise, one night I went and stopped his crowing quite. But this feat ended not the matter The hens began to crow and chatter ; And so (the deed I slightly rue) I killed them and their chickens too." " Well," said the Wolf, " to hush that din Was surely no alarming sin ; Abstain from poultry for three days, And, if you like, amend your ways. But now the Ass must be confessed. Donkey ! how far have you transgressed ? " " Ah ! " said the Ass, with dismal bray, " You know I have not much to say ; For I have toiled from day to day, And done for master service good, In carrying water, corn, and wood. But once, in winter time, 'tis true, I did what I perhaps must rue : A countryman, to keep him warm (We had just then a snowy storm), Had put some straw into his shoes ; To bite it I could not refuse ; And so (for hunger was my law) I took, or stole, a single straw." " There ! say no more ! " the Fox exclaimed ; " For want of straw that man was lamed ; His feet were bitten by the frost ; 'Tis probable his life was lost. 'Twas theft and murder. No reply ! Your penance is, that you must die." Jfugo von Trimberg (1260-1309). GERMAN HUMOUR. "THE COAT RONS ON AND NEVER TIRES. ST. PETER'S LESSON. '"THE young goat had a playful mind, * And never liked to be confined ; The apostle, at a killing pace, Followed the goat, in a desperate chase ; Over the hills and among the briers The goat runs on and never tires, ST. PETER'S LESSON. While Peter, behind, on the grassy plain, Runs on, panting and sighing, in vain. All day, beneath a scorching sun, The good apostle had to run Till evening came ; the goat was caught, And safely to the Master brought. Then, with a smile, to Peter said The Lord : " Well, friend, how have you sped ; If such a task your powers has tried, How could you keep the world, so wide? " Then Peter, with his toil distressed, His folly, with a sigh, confessed. " No, Master ! 'tis for me no play To rule one goat for one short day ; It must be infinitely worse To regulate the universe." Hans Sachs (1494-1576). GERMAN HUMOUR. A RAID ON THE PARSON'S KITCHEN. 'HE commandant at Soest looked at me with approval, and said, "Tut, little huntsman, you shall be my servant, and wait upon my horses." " Sir," I replied, " I should prefer a master in whose service the horses wait upon me. As it is not likely I shall find such a one, I am going to be a soldier." " Hoity-toity," he said, " you have no more hair on your lip than a tree-frog. You are too young." A RAID ON THE PARSON*S KITCttEN. 7 " Oh, no," I replied, " I will venture to brave any man of eighty. The beard does not make a man, else the he-goats would be in high esteem." He said, " If you can show courage as well as you can wag your tongue, so be it." I answered, "The first opportunity shall furnish the proof." And so the commandant made over to me my dragoon's old trousers, in which my master had sewed a goodly number of ducats. Out of their vitals I provided myself with a good horse and the best fire-arms I could get ; I thereupon polished up my belongings to their utmost possibility of brightness. I got me a new suit of green, for I delighted in the name of " huntsman," and gave my old garments to my boy, as they had grown too short and too tight for me. I sat on my horse like a young noble- man, and did not think small beer of myself. I took special delight in decorating my hat with a smart bunch of feathers like an officer. There were enough to envy me, and soon words and blows were the order of the day. But no sooner had I given proof to two of my enemies as to the nature of the thrusts I was skilled in, than I was left in peace, and my friendship was much sought for. In our raids upon the enemy I threw myself forward like bubbles in a boiling kettle, to be always the first in the fight. Whenever it was my good fortune to lay hands upon a desirable bit of pillage I shared it freely with the officers. The consequence was that I was allowed to plunder even in forbidden places, and could be secure of protection under all circumstances. So I was soon looked up to by friend and foe, and my purse grew as great as my name ; even the peasants I managed to keep upon my side by fear and love, for I took vengeance upon those that tried to hinder me, and gave rich rewards to all who were helpful. I did not confine myself to large 8 GERMAN HUMOUR. schemes, and never despised small ones if there was praise and admiration to be won thereby. At one time we had been vainly hoping for some waggons with provisions to come into our way at the Castle of Recklinkhausen, and the pangs of hunger were upon us. And when I and my comrade, a student just run away from school, were leaning out of one of the windows, and hungrily gazing out into the country, my companion sighed after the barley-soup of his dear mother, and said : " Ah, brother, isn't it a shame to think that after having studied all the arts, I should not be able to supply food for myself? Brother, I know for certain, if I were only allowed to visit the parson in yonder village you can see the church steeple just beyond the poplars I should find a most excellent feast." After a short parley the captain gave us permission ; I exchanged my clothes with those of another, and the student and I betook ourselves to the village on a very roundabout way. The reverend gentleman received us civilly. When my companion had greeted him in Latin, accompanying his words with a profound bow, and briskly conjuring up a fine array of lies how the soldiers had robbed him, a poor student, of all his provisions, the parson gave him bread and butter and a drink of beer. I passed myself off as a painter's apprentice, and acting as if my companion and I had never met before, I told them both I should go down the village street to the inn for refreshment, and would then call for him, as we seemed to be going the same way. So I went away in search of anything that might be worth the trouble of coming for the following night, and I was so fortunate as to meet a peasant who was plastering up an earthen oven in which large loaves of brown bread were to lie and bake for twenty-four hours. I thought, "Go ahead ; plaster away ! I'll find you a customer for these delicious viands." I made but a short stay at the inn, A RAID ON THE PARSON'S KITCHEN. Q knowing this cheaper way of getting bread, and returned to my companion, who had eaten his fill, and had told the parson that I was on my way to Holland to perfect myself in my art. The parson asked me to go and see the church with him, as he would like to show me some paintings that were in need of restoration. As it would not do to spoil the game, I consented. He conducted us through the kitchen, and when he opened the night-lock on the strong oaken door which led to the churchyard, I saw a wonderful sight. From the black heavens of this kitchen violins, flutes, and cymbals were pendent in reality they were hams, sausages, and slices of bacon. I looked at them with happy forebodings, and they seemed to smile irritatingly upon me. I wished them in the castle to my comrades, but in vain ; they were obstinate, and remained hanging where they were. I mused on ways and means of bringing them under my plan regarding the peasant's loaves of bread, but there were serious difficulties in the way, as the yard of the parsonage was surrounded by a stone wall, and all the windows were well protected with iron bars. Moreover, there were two large dogs in the yard that certainly would object to having that stolen the remnants of which was, in the course of time, -to be the reward due to their watchful- ness. Once in church, it appeared that the parson generously intended to entrust me with the restoration of his old pictures. As I was exerting myself to find some plausible subterfuge, the sexton turned to me and said : " Fellow, you look more like a disreputable soldier-lad than like a painter." I was no longer accustomed to such speeches, and yet there was nothing for it but to swallow the taunt. I shook my head softly and replied, " Oh, you knave ! give me a brush and colours, and I will paint a fool in a twinkling who shall resemble you throughout." The parson made a joke of the matter, and reminded both 10 GERMAN HUMOUR. of us tli.it it is not meet to tell each other unsavoury truths in so holy a spot. Then he gave us another drink, and we departed. 15ut I left my heart with the sausages. Returning to our people, I picked out six reliable fellows to help me carry home the bread. About midnight we entered the village and quietly took the bread out of the oven, and as we were about to pass the parsonage I could not bring myself to go on without the bacon. I stood still and looked up and down to discover some way into the par- son's kitchen, but there was no opening except the chimney. We stored our guns and our treasured booty of bread in the charnel-house of the churchyard, managed to get a ladder and rope out of the barn, and I and my crony Springinsfeld climbed up on the tiled roof. I twisted my long hair into a top-knot, and let myself down by the rope to the objects of my desire. Once there, I did not delay, and tied ham after ham, and sausage after sausage to the rope. Springinsfeld fished everything out skilfully from his post on the roof and handed it down to the others. But, alack-a-day ! as I was just going to give myself a holiday and come out, the pole that I was standing on gave way, and poor Simplicisimus was suddenly precipitated, and found himself in as bad a fix as need be in fact, it was like a regular man-trap. Spring- insfeld tried to help me by letting down the rope, but that also broke. I said to myself, " Now, huntsman, you are in for a chase in which there will be small mercy for your hide." Sure enough, my fall had waked up the parson, and he called his cook and bade her strike a light. She appeared in night-attire, her petticoat around her shoulders, and stood close beside me. She seized a coal from the hearth, held her candle up close to it, and began to blow. At the same time I blew much stronger than she, which frightened the poor body so that she dropped both candle and coal, and retreated near her master. Now the parson himself struck a light, while the woman was telling him there was a horrible A RAID ON THE PARSON'S KITCHEN. II two-headed ghost crouching in the kitchen ; she had prob- ably mistaken my top-knot for a second head. When I heard this I quickly rubbed my face and hands with ashes and soot, until I doubtless bore small resemblance to the angel I had figured for at the nunnery. And if the sexton could have seen me thus occupied, he would certainly have given me credit for being a rapid painter. Thereupon I began to make as much noise as I possibly could, throwing pans and kettles about. I hung the ring of the large kettle about my neck, and took the poker in my hand, to have a weapon in case of need. All this did not put out the pious parson, who approached as if he were heading a procession, his cook behind him, carrying two wax tapers and a stoup. He was attired in his surplice, and had a book in one hand and his holy-water sprinkle in the other. He read some ritual of exorcism aloud before me, and then asked me who I was, and what was my business here. Seeing that he was labouring under the impression that I was the Evil One, I thought it but fair that I should act in accordance with my new role y and I answered htm as I had once answered the robbers in the woods, " I am the devil, and I have come to turn your neck, and your servant's as well." He thereupon tried his most potent charm, "All good spirits praise the Lord ! I conjure thee, return from whither thou comest ! " I replied that this was impossible, happy though I should be to comply with his request. Meanwhile my boon-companion Springinsfeld was indulg- ing in spectral revelries upon the roof. When he heard what was going on in the kitchen below, and how I was passing myself off for the devil, he began to hoot like an owl, then barking like a dog, neighing like a horse, bleating like a sheep, crying like a donkey, cackling down the chimney like a hen about to lay an egg, and then again giving forth unearthly music like a hundred serenading cats ; for this fellow was clever in imitating the voices of animals, and 12 GERMAN HUMOUR. could howl as naturally as if a pack of wolves were standing ahout the house. During the consternation of the parson and his charming feminine choir-boy I had time to look about me, and, to my joy, I made the discovery that the night-lock had not been put on the back door. Quick as a flash 1 pushed back the bolt, slipped out into the churchyard, where my companions were standing with triggers drawn, and left the parson to conjure devils as long as he pleased. And when Springins- feld came down from the roof, bringing my hat along, and we had packed our spoils upon our shoulders, we returned to our party, not having anything more to do in the village, though I admit that we might have returned the borrowed ladder and rope. Christoffel von Grimmelshansen (1620-1676). THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. (FROM ACT I. OF " A TOPSY-TURVY WORLD.") ScARAMUCCio. 1 POET. SCARAMUCCIO. No, Sir Poet, say what you please, talk as you wish, make as many objections as you can possibly make, it shall in no wise alter my purpose, to listen to nothing, to consider nothing, to insist upon having my own way, so there ! POET. Dear Scaramuccio! SCARAMUCCIO. I listen to nothing. Look, Sir Poet, how I am stopping up my ears. 1 Scarnmuccio and Pierrot represent species of buffoons of the early theatre. ED. THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. 13 POET. But the piece SCARAMUCCIO. Nonsense ! the piece ! I am a piece too, and I have a perfect right to say my say. Or do you suppose I have no will of my own ? Do you poets labour under the delusion that a gentleman actor is called upon to do just as you say ? My dear sir, know you not that the times are changing ? POET. But the spectators SCARAMUCCIO. And because there are spectators in the world, would you make me unhappy ? Nice principles those ! POET. Friend, you must listen to me. SCARAMUCCIO. Very well then, if I must. Here I sit ; now talk like a sensible man, if it is in your nature so to do. (Sits down on the ground.} POET. Most esteemed Sir Scaramuccio ! Your Grace has been engaged at this theatre for a special role in a word, to express myself briefly, you are the Scaramuccio. It is not to be denied that you have reached a degree of excellence in this your speciality, and there is no man in the world more willing than myself to do justice to your talents ; but, my dear sir, for all that you are not possessed of the qualities fitting you for a tragedian ; for all that you will never be able to play a lofty character. SCARAMUCCIO. The impudence of it ! By my soul, I'll play you a loftier character than you will be able to write. I take your 14 GERMAN HUMOUR. remark as a personal insult, and I challenge the whole world to out-do me in the high and lofty. SCAEVOLA (one of the spectators). Oh, Sir Scaramuccio, we'll all take up your challenge. SCARAMUCCIO. How so ? What now ? I confess I am struck dumb by this insolence. SCAKVOLA. My dear sir, there is no cause for that. I am here for my money, Sir Scaramuccio, and I can think what I please. SCARAMUCCIO. You are free to think as you see best, but you are not allowed to speak here. SCAKVOLA. So long as you may speak, I don't see why I shouldn't. SCARAMUCCIO. Well, then, what have you done that was so noble ? SCAEVOLA. The day before yesterday I helped my spendthrift of a nephew out of his debts. SCARAMUCCIO. And yesterday I saved the prompter from talking himself hoarse by leaving out a whole scene. SCAEVOLA. I was in a merry humour at table one day last week, and gave a whole shilling in charity. SCARAMUCCIO. The day before yesterday I quarrelled with my tailor, who came to dun me, and I had the last word. THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. 1 5 SCAEVOLA. A week ago I helped get a tipsy man home. SCARAMUCCIO. Sir, I was this tipsy man; but I had been drinking my sovereign's health. SCAEVOLA. I confess myself vanquished. (Enter Pierrot in a state of excitement^) POET. What's the matter, Pierrot ? PIERROT. What's the matter? I will not play to-day. On no account will I play. POET. Why not ? PIERROT. Why not? Because it's high time for me to become a spectator. I've been a mime long enough. (Enter IVagemann, the manager.) POET. You are just in time, Herr Wagemann. There is con- fusion abroad. WAGEMANN. How so ? POET. Pierrot will not play to-day. He wants to be a spectator, and Scaramuccio insists upon taking the role of Apollo in my drama. SCARAMUCCIO. And am I not right, Herr Wagemann ? I have played the fool long enough, and I should like to try my hand at the wise. l6 GERMAN HUMOUR. WAGEMANN. You arc too severe, Sir Poet. You must give the poor fellows a little more liberty. Let them have it their own way. POET. But the requirements of the drama, of art WAGEMANN. Oh, all that will come right enough. Look you, my way of thinking is this the spectators have paid their money, and with that the most important thing is regulated. PIERROT. Adieu, Sir Poet. I go to join the illustrious assembly of spectators. I will venture the bold leap over the footlights, to see if 1 can be cured of being a fool, and graduate to a spectator. (Sings.) Fare-thee-well, thou old love; a new life is dawning for me, and most sensible impulses are moving my heart. No footlight shall affright me, no prompter can hold me. Ah, I would taste the peaceful bliss of being an auditor. Receive me, wild waves ; stage, fare-thee-well, my spirit yearns to be drawn beyond thy pre- cincts. (Jumps into the parterre.} Where am I ? Oh heavens ! do I still breathe ? Ah ! is it possible I stand here below? The rays of the footlights shine over yonder. Ye gods, ye behold me surrounded by people. Who gave me this life, this better life ? THE AUDIENCE. Monsieur Pierrot is one of us. A hearty welcome to thee, Spectator Pierrot. We greet thee, thou great man ! PIERROT. Can it be, ye noble ones, that you will count me as your brother ? Ah, my gratitude will last as long as there is breath within this bosom. THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. I? GRUNHELM (one of the spectators). Glorious, glorious ! By my soul he speaks well ! But as for me, I should like to take a part on the stage for a change ; it would do my heart good. To be sure I tremble and stammer, and my wit is not of the quickest, but I am never so happy as when I am making a little joke. (He scrambles up on the stage.) And so, Sir Scaramuccio, leave your funny role to me, and then, for all I care, you may play the Apollo. POET. And what then is to become of my excellent drama ? AUDIENCE. Scaramuccio shall play the Apollo. It is a unanimous decision. POET. 'Tis well. I wash my hands of it. The audience may bear the responsibility. I am deeply miserable. Ah, yes, it is the fate of Art to be misunderstood and travestied, and it is only then that it finds its public. In vengeance for the judgment passed upon Marsyas, Poetry herself is flayed alive to-day. My sorrow is greater than I can endure. Herr Griinhelm, so you undertake to do the joking ? GRUNHELM. I do, Sir Poet, and I will hold my own against any rival. POET. How will you do it ? GRUNHELM. Sir, I haye been one of those whose chief business it is to be amused long enough to know what will please. The people down there want to be entertained. At bottom that is the only reason they stand there so quietly and patiently. The good-will of the public is the principal thing, I know I& GERMAN HUMOUR. that as well as you do. True art is to keep this good-will on the surface. POET. Yes, of course, but by what means do you propose ? GRUNHELM. Let that be my care, Sir Poet. (Sings .') " A fowler's trade is mine, heigh-ho," etc. AUDIENCE. Bravo ! bravo ! GRUNHELM. Are you pretty well amused, gentlemen ? AUDIENCE. Excellently, most excellently ! GRUNHELM. Do you feel a longing for anything reasonable ? AUDIENCE. No, no ; but by-and-by we should like to have our feelings worked upon. GRUNHELM. Patience, you can't have all good things in a lump. Do you miss the genuine Apollo ? AUDIENCE. Not in the least. GRUNHELM. Well, Sir Poet, do you still object to granting the excellent Scaramuccio's request ? POET. Not in the least. I withdraw all my objections. AUDIENCE. But we don't want him to give us nothing but nonsense. THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. 19 SCARAMUCCIO. Mercy on us ! We would not be guilty of such a sinful thing. What kind of an Apollo were I if I should admit of that ? No, gentlemen, there shall be an abundance of serious things things to think about, things to train one's intellectual faculties. SCAEVOLA. Is it to be a tragedy ? PIERROT. No, gentlemen, we actors have all sworn that we will not die, so it won't be a tragedy, whatever the poet may have in his mind. SCAEVOLA. I am relieved to hear it, for I am possessed of a very soft heart. PIERROT. Hang it, sir, neither are we made of stone and iron. I have the honour of assuring you that my susceptibilities are uncommonly delicate. The devil take all inelegancies. SCAEVOLA. That is what I say. There is nothing above being a spectator. It is the .highest thing one can be. PIERROT. Ay, that it is. Are we not more than all the emperors and princes that are but acted ? SCARAMUCCIO. Thunder and lightning ! Where, in the hangman's name, is my Parnassus ? GRUNHELM. I will go and get it. (Exit.) WAGEMANN. Now all is in order. Adieu, Sir Scaramuccio. 20 GERMAN HUMOUR. SCARAMUCCIO. Your humble servant. Hog you to express my respects to Madam, your wife. (The manager exit. Three attendants enter, carrying the Parnassus.} Put it down here, a trifle further to this side, so that I can hear the prompter. (He climbs up and takes a scat.) A pleasant mount this. What revenues does it yield ? Can any one tell me ? Send for the treasurer. (Enter the Treasurer.) SCARAMUCCIO. What does the mount bring me annually? TREASURER. Under your predecessor, the only profits derived were those from the Castalian Spring. SCARAMUCCIO. What sort of a spring ? Was it a mineral spring ; a sulphur spring, perhaps ? Was there much demand for the waters. What was the price per bottle ? TREASURER. What little there was wanted was given away. Few people liked the water. Your predecessor, the other Apollo, was fond of it. SCARAMUCCIO. I hope there are no mortgages on the mount ? TREASURER. No, your majesty. SCARAMUCCIO. Is it insured ? TREASURER. Oh, yes. THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. 21 SCARAMUCCIO. There is some security in that. I shall have a brewery and a bakery put up at the foot. The common pastures must be otherwise disposed of; Pegasus and the other beasts that belong to me must henceforth be fed in the stable. TREASURER. It shall be as you say. SCARAMUCCIO. Have the spectators paid for the play ? TREASURER. Yes, your excellency. SCARAMUCCIO. I hereby decree that there shall be no complimentary tickets in future. TREASURER. These are innovations not at all in accordance with the institutions of Greece. SCARAMUCCIO. Hang Greece ! Thank goodness we live in better times. This is an age of enlightenment, and I reign supreme. Send for the Muses. (Exit the Treasurer.} (Enter the nine Muses, bowing profoundly.} SCARAMUCCIO (lightly nodding to them). Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselles. Hope we shall get on finely together. Henceforth you shall be my tenants on the Parnassus. Should you ever desire to change your residence, quarterly notice is required. What is your name, fair child? MELPOMENE. I am Melpomene. 22 GERMAN HUMOUR. SCARAMUCCIO. You look so woe-bcgone. MELPOMENE. Oh, Herr Apollo ! I am of a very good family. My father had a high position at court, and the thane gave me a match- less education. Ah, how happy I was in my parents' house, and what a dutiful daughter did I strive to be ! I also had a lover, but he jilted me, and my parents died of grief. Our family physician, a worthy man, took an interest in me ; but he was too poor to marry me, so there was nothing for it but to join the Muses. Have I no right to be sad ? SCARAMUCCIO. Yes indeed, my child; but I will be as a father to you. SCAEVOLA (to another spectator). Now see, for heaven's sake, how the tears are flowing from my eyes. THE OTHER. Why, neighbour, save them for the fifth act. SCARAMUCCIO. And who are you, pretty maid ? THALIA. Thank you kindly, sir, for asking ; I was christened Thalia. I was a servant in the family of this excellent lady, and I could not bring myself to leave her in her distress, and followed her among the Muses. SCARAMUCCIO. When the last act comes your faithfulness will surely be rewarded. Where is my groom? (Enter the Groom.} THE REVOLT IN THE THEATRE. 23 SCARAMUCCIO. Saddle my Pegasus. I wish to go riding. (Exit the Groom, coming back immediately with a bridled donkey.} Help me. (He gets in the saddle.} THE MOUNTING OF PEGASUS. GROOM. By what rules of quantity does your Honour choose to take his pleasure to-day? SCARAMUCCIO. Oh, fool ! I will ride in plain, sensible prose. Do you suppose I wish to be jolted in Alcaic measures, or break my neck in Proceleusmatics ? No, I am for sense and order. 24 GERMAN HUMOUR. GROOM. Your predecessor was always flying in the air. SCARAMUCCIO. Don't talk to me about the fellow. He must have been a very clown, a most eccentric ass. To fly into the air ! No, the air has no pillars, I am all for the earth. Adieu, my friends ! I am only going to ride a short essay on the value of family portraits. I shall be back presently. (He rides slowly away.") (The curtain drops.) SCAEVOLA. That was only the introduction. PIERROT. The first act is always of great importance for the lucidity of the whole. THE OTHER TO SCAEVOLA. There is much morality in the piece. SCAEVOLA. Indeed there is; I feel myself growing better already. PIERROT. Music ! Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853). THE UNACCOUNTABLE STRANGER. (FROM SCENE IV. OF "A TOPSY-TURVY WORLD.") (The room of an Inn.') INNKEEPER. Few enough guests put up at my house nowadays. If this goes on I might as well take down my sign. Dear me, those were other times when there was scarce a piece per- formed but had a tavern and a host in it. I well remember in how many hundreds of pieces the foundations for the THE UNACCOUNTABLE STRANGER. 2$ finest plots were laid in this very room. Now it was a prince in disguise, who spent his money here; now it was a prime minister, or a wealthy count at the very least, who lay in ambush here for some conspiracy. Yes, even in things that were translated from the English, I always earned an honest penny. Some drawbacks to be sure there were, when I was required to be a disguised member of a band of sharpers, and then be smartly rated by the moral characters; but there was always healthy activity in it. But now ! Now when a wealthy stranger returns from a journey, he goes to stay with his relatives by way of doing something novel and original, and does not drop his disguise until the fifth act; others appear only upon the street, as if there were no respectable house for them to stay at. All this keeps the audience in a marvellous state of curiosity, but it takes the bread out of our mouth. (Enter Anne.} ANNE. You seem to be in low spirits, father. INNKEEPER. Yes, child, I'm out of sorts about my calling. ANNE. Would you like to be something finer ? INNKEEPER. No, not exactly ; but it vexes me more than I can tell you that there is no more demand for my calling. ANNE. Surely in time all that will change for the better. INNKEEPER. No, dear daughter. The times do not tend that way. Oh, why was I not a Hofrath ! You may look at any play- bill this day, it always says at the bottom : " The scene is 26 GERMAN HUMOUR. at the house of the Hofrath." If things go on like this I'll study for a gaoler, for prisons, you know, still occur in patriotic and mediaeval pieces. But my son must see to it that he gets to be a Hofrath. ANNE. Be comforted, dear father, and do not yield to your melancholy. INNKEEPER. I've half a mind to turn poet myself, and invent a new art of poetry which shall supersede the Hofrath pieces, and in which the scene shall invariably play in a tavern. ANNE. Do so, dear father, and I will attend to the love-scenes. INNKEEPER. Hist ! There is a diligence pulling up at the door. Indeed it seems to be an express. Kind heavens, where can the unsophisticated person come from who would put up at this house ? (Enter a Stranger?) STRANGER. Good morrow, mine host. INNKEEPER. Your servant, your servant, noble lord. Who in the world are you to travel incognito, and put up at my house ? Surely you are of the old school, eh ? A man of the good old times ! Perhaps translated from the English ! STRANGER. I am neither a noble lord nor do I travel incognito. Can I lodge here this day and night? INNKEEPER. My whole house is at your disposal. But really, is there no family in the vicinity you wish to make happy ? Or do you wish to marry suddenly, or find a sister? THE UNACCOUNTABLE STRANGER. 2/ STRANGER. No, good friend. INNKEEPER. So you are only journeying as a simple, ordinary traveller ? STRANGER. Yes. INNKEEPER. Then you will have but little applause. STRANGER. The fellow must be crazy. (Enter a Postillion.') POSTILLION. Here is your trunk, sir. STRANGER. And here is your fee. POSTILLION. Oh, that is very little. I drove down the hill so smartly ! STRANGER. There. POSTILLION. Many thanks. (Exif,~) STRANGER. Shall I succeed in finding her? Oh, how all my thoughts turn to my beloved native shore ! How can I endure the sight, when once more I view it ? when the past, with all its joys and pains, passes before my inner vision ? Ah, thou poor mortal ! what callest thou the past ? For thee there is no present. Between the times that are flown and the future thou clingest to a little moment, and joys flit past thee, and do not so much as touch thy heart. 28 GERMAN HUMOUR. INNKEEPER. If I may be permitted to ask, I take it your grace is from some old worm-eaten drama that some unknown author has modernised a bit ? STRANGER. What say you ? INNKEEPER. I greatly doubt that you will have applause ! I hope, at any rate, that you have money ? Or is it a part of the plot that you should pretend to be poor ? STRANGER. You are very inquisitive, good friend. INNKEEPER. That's part of my trade, sir, as any schoolboy will tell you. Old people must be old ; Telephus must be a beggar ; the slave must chatter in keeping with his role. You can look it up in the Ars poctica, to which I too am subject in my office as host. STRANGER. Thank you for this graceful frenzy ; I have not found so rare a curiosity for a long time. Show me to my room. (Exeunt.) Ludwig Tieck. VAN DER K AH ELS LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. VER since Haslan was a duke's residence there was no record of anything having been looked forward to with such curiosity excepting the birth of a hereditary prince as the opening of Van der Kabel's last will and testament. Van der Kabel might have been called the VAN DER KABEL'S WILL. 29 Croesus of Haslan, and his life a comedy of coins. Seven distant relatives of seven deceased distant relatives of Kabel's indulged in some little hope of a place in the testa- ment, the Croesus having sworn to remember them there ; but the hope was a faint one, as he seemed not greatly to be trusted, not only because he was in the habit of manag- ing his affairs in a grimly moral and unselfish manner in matters of morality the seven relatives were but beginners but also because he handled things in so cynical a spirit, and with a heart so full of traps and snares that there was no depending upon him. The continuous smile about his temples and thick lips, and his shrill sneering voice, impaired the good impression which his nobly-formed features and a pair of large hands, dropping New Year's gifts and benefits every day, might have made ; therefore the swarms of birds declared this man, this living fruit-tree, which furnished them with food and nests, to be a secret snare, and would not see the visible berries for invisible nooses. Between two strokes of paralysis he had dictated his testament, and entrusted it to the magistrate. When in a half-dying state he handed the receipt of deposit to the seven heirs-presumptive, he said, in his old tone, that he should greatly deplore it if this sign of his approaching decease would strike down sensible men, whom he liked to picture as laughing heirs rather than as weeping ones. In due time the seven heirs put in an appearance at the Rathhaus with their receipt of deposit. There was the Right Reverend Glanz, the Police-inspector, the Court- agent Neupeter, the Court-attorney Knoll, the Bookseller Pasvogel, the Preacher Flachs, and Flitte from Elsass. They urged the magistrate to produce the cJiarte of the deceased Kabel, and open the will with all the formalities of the law. The high executor of the same was the ruling burgomaster in person ; the low executors were the town councillors. Without delay the charte and testament were 30 GERMAN HUMOUR. fetched out of the private closet and deposited in the court-room, passed around to the senators and heirs, that they might gaze upon the printed town-seal. The directions written upon the outside of the charte were read in a loud voice by the town-scribent to the seven heirs, who were therewith informed that the deceased had in truth deposited the said charle with the magistrate, and entrusted it to the same scrinio ret publicae, and that on the day when he had thus deposited it he had been in his right mind ; last, the seven seals which he himself had placed thereon were examined and found intact. After the town-scribent had entered a registry of all these proceedings, the testament was opened in God's name, and read aloud by the ruling burgomaster as follows : " I, Van der Kabel, herewith declare my last will and testa- ment this jth day of May 179 , here in my house in Haslan in the Hundgasse, without many millions of words, though I was once a German Notary Public and a Dutch domine". But I believe I am still sufficiently conversant with the art of a notary to be enabled to act the part of a testator and bequeather in a proper and becoming manner. " As for charitable legacies, so far as they are any concern of the lawyers, I declare that the poor of this town, 3000 in number, shall receive as many light florins, for which they may celebrate the anniversary day of my death next year by pitching a camp upon the public common ; make a merry day of it, and then take the tents to make clothes out of them. To all schoolmasters of our dukedom I bequeath a Louis d'or apiece; and to the Jews of the place I bequeath my pew in church. As I desire to have my testament sub-divided into paragraphs, this may be considered as the first. " Paragraph 2. Declarations of inheritance and dis- inheritance are universally counted among the essentials of a testament. I therefore bequeath to the Right Reverend VAN DER K ABEL'S WILL, 31 Glanz, the Court-attorney Knoll, the Court-agent Peter Neupeter, the Police-inspector Harprecht, the Preacher Flachs, the Bookseller Pasvogel, and Herr Flitte, nothing for the present, not so much because the most distant relatives can lay no claim to a Trebellianica, nor because most of them have enough to pass on to future generations as it is, but mainly because I know from their own assurance that they esteem my humble person more than my large fortune, of which I must therefore dispose otherwise." "SEVEN ELONGATED FACES HERE STARTED UP." Seven elongated faces here started up. Especially did the Right Reverend Glanz, a young man noted throughout Germany for his spoken and printed sermons, feel himself keenly injured by such sneers. Flitte, from Elsass, permitted a whispered oath to escape his lips ; and as for Flachs, the preacher, his chin grew longer and longer, and threatened to grow into a beard. Many a whispered ejaculation was overheard by the magistrate addressing the 32 GERMAN HUMOUR. late llerr Kabel by such appellatives as scoundrel, fool, antichrist. l.ut the ruling burgomaster waved his hand, the court-attorney and the bookseller set all the elastic springs in their faces as in a trap once more, and the former continued reading albeit with affected seriousness. " Paragraph 3. --Excepting my present residence in the Hundgasse, which, according to this third paragraph, I will leave, with all that pertains thereto, to that one of the afore-mentioned seven gentlemen who, in one half-hour (counting from the reading of the paragraph), shall outdo his six rivals by being the first to shed a tear over me, his deceased relative, before an honourable magistrate, who shall register the fact. Should there be a drought at the end of that time, then the property must accrue to my heir- general, whom I shall forthwith name." Here the burgomaster shut the will, remarking the con- ditions to be unusual, but not illegal, and in accordance therewith the court would now proceed to award the house to the first that wept ; laid his watch, which pointed to half- past eleven, upon the table, and sat down silently to note, together with the lawyers, in his office of chief executor, who would first shed the required tears. That so long as this world exists there has ever been a sadder and more ruffled assembly than this of seven dry provinces united as it were to weep, cannot fairly be assumed. At first precious moments were lost in dismay and smiling surprise ; it was no easy matter to be trans- ported so abruptly from cursing to weeping. Emotion pure and simple was not to be thought of, that was quite evident; but in t\\vnty : six minutes something might be done by way of enforcing an April shower. The merchant Neupeter asked if that was not a con- founded affair and fool's comedy for a respectable man to be concerned in, and would have nothing to do with it; but at the same time the thought that a house might be VAN DER KABEL'S WILL. 33 washed into his purse on the bosom of a tear strangely moved his lachrymal glands. The Court-attorney Knoll screwed up his face like a poor workman getting shaved and scratched by an apprentice on Saturday night by the light of a murky little lamp; he was greatly enraged at the misuse of testaments, and was not far removed from shedding tears of wrath. The sly bookseller at once proceeded to apply himself assiduously to the matter in hand, and sent his memory on a stroll through all the sentimental subjects he was publish- ing or taking on commission; he looked much like a dog slowly licking off the emetic which the Paris doctor Demet had spread on his nose ; some time must necessarily elapse before it could take effect. Flitte, from Elsass, danced about the Session-room, looked at all the mourners with laughing eyes, and swore, though he was not the richest among them, he could not for the whole of Strasburg and Elsass weep when there was such a joke abroad. At last the Police-in spector Harprecht looked at him very significantly, and remarked that if Monsieur hoped to extract the required drops from the well-known glands by means of laughter, and fraudulently profit thereby, he begged to remind him that he would gain as little as if he were to blow his nose, for it was well known that the ductus nasalis caused as many tears to take that direction as flow into a pew under the most affecting funeral sermon. But the Elsassian assured him that he was only laughing for fun without any serious intentions. The inspector on his part tried to bring something appropriate to the occasion into his eyes by open- ing them very wide and looking fixedly at one spot. The preacher Flachs looked like a beggar on horseback, whose nag is running away with him ; like the sun shining on a dismal day, his heart, which was piled about with the most suitable clouds of hardships at home and in church, 3 34 GERMAN HUMOUR. might easily have drawn water on the spot, but unfortunately the house swimming in on the high-tide proved too pleasant a sight, and repeatedly served as a dam. The Right Reverend Glanz, who knew his nature from his experience in New Years' and funeral sermons, and who was quite certain that he would be able to work upon his own feelings if only he were granted an opportunity of addressing himself in touching language to others, now arose and said with dignity that he was sure every one who had read his printed works would feel convinced that he had a heart in his bosom, and that it was rather to be expected of him to suppress such sacred symbols as tears, so as to deprive no human brother, than to extract them by force. " This heart has overflowed ere now, but it was in secret, for Kabel was my friend," he said, and looked about him. With satisfaction he saw that they were all sitting there as dry as so many sticks. As things stood now, crocodiles, stags, elephants, and witches could have wept more easily than the heirs, irritated and enraged by Glanz as they were. Only Flachs had a turn of good luck. He thought of Kabel's good deeds and of the shabby dresses and grey locks of his congregation at early service, then in haste he gave a thought to Lazarus and his dogs and to his own lengthy coffin, then to all the people who have been beheaded at one time or other, the " Sorrows of Werther," a battle-field ; and last he gave a pitiful thought to himself, how young he was, and how he was working and slaving for a miserable paragraph in a testament. Another good heave with his pump-handle and it would fetch him water and a house. "Oh, Kabel, my Kabel," continued Glanz, almost weep- ing at the glad prospect of mournful tears, " when on some future day, beside thy precious bosom now covered with dust, my own lies mouldering DIVISION OF LABOUR. 35 " I believe, gentlemen," said Flachs, getting up sadly and overflowing with tears, " I am weeping." Thereupon he sat down again and allowed them to run cheerfully down his cheeks ; he was high and dry now; he had successfully angled the house away from Glanz, who was very much put out by his efforts, because he had talked away his appetite all to no purpose. Flachs's emotion was duly registered, and the house in the Hund- " : BELIEVE, GENTLEMEN, i AM WEEPING." gasse was legally assigned to him. The burgomaster was gratified that the poor devil should have it. It was the first time in the dukedom of Haslan that the tears of a teacher and preacher, like those of the goddess Freya, had changed into gold. Glanz was profuse in his congratulations, and jocosely reminded Flachs that he himself had perhaps been instrumental in bringing about this happy consummation. . Jean Paul Friedrich Richter (1763-1825). DIVISION OF LABOUR IN MATTERS SENTIMENTAL. T OVE is the perihelion of women ay, it is the transit -* ' of such a Venus through the sun of the ideal world. During this time of their highest refinement of soul they love whatever we love, even though it be Science, and the best world of beauty within us ; and they despise whatever 36 GERMAN HUMOUR. we despise, even though it be dress and gossip. These nightingales sing up to the date of the summer solstice ; their marriage-day is their longest day. The devil docs not take it all at once, but piecemeal day by day. The firm bands of wedlock tie up the wings of poesy ; to the free play of fancy marriage means imprisonment on bread and water. Many a time I have followed about one of these poor birds of paradise or peacocks or Psyches during their honeymoon, and picked up the moulted feathers that were strewn about ; and when later the husband complained that he had taken unto himself a bald and unlovely bird, I would show him the wasted treasure. Why is this? Because marriage erects a crust of reality about the ideal world ; it is much the same case as with the sphere we live on, which, according to Descartes, is a sun enveloped in an earthy shell. A woman lacks the power which a man has to protect the inner structures of air and fancy against the encroachments of the rough outside. Where shall she seek refuge ? In her natural keeper. A man should ever stand guard with a spoon over the fluid silver of the feminine intellect, to remove the scum as it rises, that the regulus of the ideal may shine the brighter. But there are two kinds of men : the Arcadians or lyric poets of life, who love for ever, like Rousseau when his hair was grey such are not to be comforted when the gilt-edged feminine anthology of wit shows no gold as they turn the leaves, as is apt to be the case in books bordered with gold ; second, there are the boorish shepherds of to-day, the plebeian poetasters and practical men of business, who thank God when their enchantress, like other enchantresses, changes into a growl- ing domestic cat, and keeps the house free from vermin. No one suffers from greater ennui and anxiety than a fat, weighty, slouching, bass-voiced man of business, who, like the Roman elephants of former times, is called upon to dance upon the slender rope of love, and whose amorous A TENDER-HEARTED CRITIC. 37 pantomimes always remind me of dormice, that seem to be at a loss about their every movement when sudden warmth interrupts their dormant state. Only with widows, who care less to be loved than to be married, can a heavy man of business begin his romance where the novelists end theirs viz., at the steps of the altar. Such a man, constructed on the crudest style, would have a load off his mind if he could get some one to love his shepherdess in his name until there was nothing more to be done but to have the wedding ; the taking upon myself of such crosses and burdens for another is just what I should feel a calling for. I have often thought of advertising it in public papers (had I not feared it might be taken for a joke), that I offer myself to serve as pleni- potentiary to any man of business who has no time to properly make love to a girl. Provided only she be tolerable, I should be willing to swear platonic everlasting affection, make the necessary declarations of love, and, in short, substitute myself in the most disinterested manner, or escort her arm-in-arm through the ups and downs of the land of love, until on the border I could make her over to the prospective bridegroom in proper condition to be married. Instead of marriage by proxy we should thus have love by proxy. Jean Paul Friedrich Richter. A TENDER-HEARTED CRITIC. T T E composed reviews as others do prayers only when ** in straits ; it was like the carrying of water of the Athenian so that he might thus be free to devote himself to his favourite studies without hunger. But his satirical sting he would put in the sheath when writing reviews. " Petty authors," he said, "are always bitter, and great ones are worse than their works. Why should I be less severe upon the genius for his moral faults, such as vanity, than upon 38 GERMAN HUMOUR. the dunce? On the contrary. Poverty and ugliness not self-incurred deserve no disdain ; but neither do they de- serve it when self-incurred, though Cicero be against me. For neither a moral fault nor its punishment can be increased by a physical consequence which may follow or may not follow. Is the spendthrift who is impoverished in consequence of his way of living more to be blamed than the spendthrift who goes free ? On the contrary." Applying this to poor writers whose unconquerable self- conceit hides their worthlessness to themselves, upon whose innocent hearts the critic vents his just wrath over their guilty heads, it is certainly permissible to scoff bitterly at the type, but the individual should be more gently dealt with. Methinks it would be the gold-test of a morally immaculate scholar if he were called upon to review a poor but celebrated book. Jean Paul Friedrich Richter. THE ACCIDENT OF THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. (FROM SCENE XII. OF "DiE DEUTSCHEN KLEINSTADTER.") (Scene in the Burgomaster's home in a small town. News has just been received of a traveller, whose carriage has met with an accident in a quarry just outside the town. FRAU STAAR, the Burgomaster's mother, is all in aflutter as to the best way of doing honour to the distinguished stranger, and has sent for all of her female relatives^ to obtain their advice in this difficult question.') FRAU STAAR. FRAU BRENDEL. FRAU HRENDEL. Here I am, most dear Dame Cousin. I ran so, I have no breath left. I was but just drinking my seventh cup of coffee, but I jumped up and left everything, at your message. THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 39 FRAU STAAR. Greatly obliged, most esteemed Dame Cousin. Have you heard FRAU BRENDEL. I know everything ! My maid had gone to market, and the butcher told her his neighbour, the linen-draper, had heard how the bailiff had said to his daughter : Mickey, he said, out in the quarry there are a couple of counts lying, who have broken their arms and legs, and will be here in a minute. The watchman will blow a horn from the turret, the children will strew flowers on their path, the magistrate in corpore will go to meet them, and the bells will be rung. FRAU STAAR. It is only one. Dame Cousin ; only one is lying in the quarry, probably a gentleman of quality. He is to be our guest. The Minister of State has written and has asked my son. Now you can fancy, Dame Cousin, the excitement in the house. And everything is on my shoulders 1 Every- thing rests upon me ! (Enter Frau Morgenroth.} FRAU MORGENROTH. Your servant, most esteemed Dame Cousin. Only see how my walk has heated me. I trust I am not too late ? With your permission be it said, I had scarce a thing on me, was singing my morning hymn and combing my poodle-dog. At the third stanza your maid came rushing in. My God, I thought the house was on fire ! Then and there I jumped up, the poodle-dog dropped from my lap, the hymnal fell in the coals where I was warming my coffee, the coffee was spilled, and two stanzas of the hymn, " Awake, my heart, and sing ! " were burned up. FRAU STAAR. I regret it, exceedingly, worthy Dame Cousin 40 GERMAN HUMOUR. FRAU MORGENROTH. Oh, it's of no consequence. I know all. Out in the quarry lie three or four princes ; one is dead, the other is gasping a bit now and then. The coachman has broken his neck, the horses are lying stiff and stark. I met the Herr Assistant-Bailiff Balg on the street ; his cook told him; she knows it from the wife of the Lottery Inspector; her husband's barber told her all the details. FRAU STAAR. Tut, tut, it is not quite so bad as all that. A short time ago a peasant came here from Kabendorf FRAU BRENDEL. I know, he got a solid thaler for a tip. FRAU MORGENROTH. Far from it, Dame Cousin, a Louis-d'or it was. FRAU STAAR. He had run as fast as he could run. FRAU BRENDEL. They say it gave him a pain in his side. FRAU MONGENROTH. His nose bled too. FRAU STAAR. A person of quality met with an accident FRAU BRENDEL. A count FRAU MORGENROTH. Several princes. FRAU STAAR. That we do not know. He must be of noble extraction, for he does not lodge in the " Golden Cat," but at our house, at the express desire of his Honour the Minister of THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 4! State. Now, as my son, the Burgomaster and Chief Alder- man, represents in his person the whole town as it were, you will, of course, understand that he must do honour to his position. FRAU BRENDEL. A banquet at the Town Hall FRAU MORGENROTH. A dance at the archers' guild FRAU STAAR. To-morrow, as you know, is the great fete. FRAU BRENDEL. Oh yes, the woman that stole the cow nine years ago FRAU MORGENROTH. To-morrow she goes to the pillory. I am looking forward to it with a great deal of pleasure. FRAU BRENDEL. I have had a brand-new robe made for the occasion. FRAU STAAR. There have been many arrangements made to fitly cele- brate this event. But to-day the honour of the town is wholly in our hands ; to-day we must show what we can do, and with the help of God we will. The tables shall bend under His blessings. My worthy cousins are herewith invited. FRAU BRENDEL. I look upon it as a great honour. FRAU MORGENROTH. Shall not fail. FRAU STAAR. Now, you see, I should like to make the distinguished stranger acquainted with our people of quality. So I have 42 GERMAN HUMOUR. sent for you to ask your advice as to the persons to be invited. KRAU BRENDEL (meditating). Ah, well, I think FRAU MORGENROTII. You might perhaps FRAU BRENDEL. Invite the Hcrr Convoy-and-Land-Excise-Commissary Kropt FRAU STAAR. No, Dame Cousin, he gave a banquet the other day on his mother's birthday, and did not ask us. FRAU BRENDEL. Ah, indeed ! FRAU MORGENROTH. Perhaps the Herr Board-of-Revenue-Supernumerary-Secre- tary VVittmann ? FRAU BRENDEL. No, Dame Cousin ; my husband, the late Herr Brendcl, had a law-suit with him about his drains. FRAU MORGENROTH. That alters the matter. FRAU STAAR. I thought of the Herr Post-Luggage-Inspector-General Holbein ? FRAU MORGENROTH. For heaven's sake, Dame Cousin ! he has a most insuffer- able wife ! There's hardly a Sunday passes but she has a new dress, and the way she goes rustling past my pew FRAU BRENDEL. She carries her head higher than need be THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 43 FRAU MORGENROTH. And we all remember her so well FRAU BRENDEL. Yes, when she wore a grey spencer with a green apron. FRAU MORGENROTH. There are strange rumours where she takes it from. FRAU BRENDEL. No, I would rather suggest the Herr County-Tavern- Harvest-and-Quarter-Tax-and-Impost-Controller Kunkel. FRAU STAAR. Don't mention him, worthy Cousin ; he is a rude fellow, who has no manners ! Would you believe it, he did not so much as call upon us in a decent and proper manner, the pert addle-head ! He left his card, fancy ! One might sooner ask the Herr Penal-Raft-Commander Weidenbaum. FRAU BRENDEL. No, Dame Cousin, for heaven's sake, no ! You remember how the wicked fellow was seen to talk to my brother-in- law's step-daughter three times, and how consequently he intended to marry her? Now he holds himself aloof, and has made the poor girl- the talk of the town. FRAU STAAR. Goodness me, is there any one we can ask then ? FRAU MORGENROTH. There comes Cousin Sperling. (Enter Sperling, with a large bouquet.} SPERLING. Frau Under-Tax-Receiver, Frau Chief-Raft-and-Fishery Master, Frau Town-Excise-Treasury-Secretary, your humble servant ! I was in my garden the Herr Vice-Church- Superintendent sent for me I ran like a sunbeam ! 44 GERMAN HUMOUR. Scarce did I take the time to cull these children of the spring. THE THREE LADIES. Do you know already ? SPERLING. I know all. A celebrated professor carriage smashed up nose ditto letter of recommendation from the Minister of State. FRAU STAAR. A professor, you say ? FRAU BRENDEL. Only a professor ? FRAU MORGENROTH. Oh, my delicious coffee that was spilled in the fire ! FRAU STAAR. Never believe it, Dame Cousin. All my life I have heard that ministers take little interest in professors. No, no, there is some misunderstanding. SPERLING. Nay, but I will stand up for my opinion that the man who has had his nose smashed is a learned professor, on his way from Egypt or Weimar, where he has either been measuring the pillar of Pompey, or else seen Wieland put his head out of the window. In short, there is no time to be lost. Here are the flowers. Now get me some children. Children I must have ! Then he may come and see what the town of Krahwinkel can do ! FRAU STAAR. Gently, gently ; they shall be here at once. (Exit.) (SPERLING turns aside and mutely practises the panto- mimes of reception.) THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 45 FRAU MORGENROTH. Have you noticed, worthy cousin, what ridiculous airs the old lady is putting on ? FRAU BRENDEL. Yes, indeed, Dame Cousin ; she puffs herself up like dough in the oven. FRAU MORGENROTH. Goodness me! Her husband was only Under-Ta\- Receiver. FRAU BRENDEL. When he died he left a debt to the Treasury. FRAU MORGENROTH. Dear me, and I wonder what the banquet will be like ? Do you remember that joint eight weeks ago? It was horribly burned. FRAU BRENDEL. And how she looks ! what will she put on ? FRAU MORGENROTH. Not much choice. She has but three gowns. FRAU BRENDEL. To be sure, the brown one FRAU MORGENROTH. And the white one FRAU BRENDEL, And her stuff gown. FRAU MORGENROTH. She had that made for the first christening at the burgo- master's. FRAU BRENDEL. Begging your pardon, Dame Cousin, it was made when the Vice-Church-Superintendent married his second wife. 4 6 GERMAN HUMOUR. FRAU MORGENROTH. Who was another such fool. FRAU BRENDEL. You're right there, quite right there. {Enter Fran Staar with two children, the latter eating enormous s/itcs of bread and butter.} ENTEK FRAU STAAK WITH TWO CHILDREN. FRAU STAAR. There are the children. SPERLING. Come along then ! FRAU STAAR. Drop a curtsey to your dear Dame Cousin first, there's a good child ! Now shake hands ; that's right ! THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 47 FRAU BRENDEL (wiping the butter from her fingers). Enchanting little creatures. God bless them ! FRAU MORGENROTH. The very pictures of our dear Dame Cousin. FRAU BRENDEL. I trust they have had the pox ! FRAU STAAR. Not yet. My son wished to have them inoculated, but I will never give my consent. I would not forestall the Almighty. SPERLING. Children, lay your bread and butter aside. CHILDREN. No, no. SPERLING. Well, then, take the flowers in the other hand. (Enter If err Staar and the Burgomaster?) HERR STAAR (hastily). They are just driving in through the gate. The street is full of boys. They are running along by the carriage, and yelling at the top of their voice. BURGOMASTER (hastily). He comes, he comes ! The watchman is standing ready with his trumpet. SPERLING. Goodness gracious ! The children are so awkward HERR STAAR. All you have to do is to strew your flowers and fling them in his face. (The blast of a trumpet very much out of tune.*) 48 GERMAN HUMOUR. BURGOMASTER. Quick, quick ! All go to meet him 1 HERR STAAR. The children lead the way ! SPERLING (snatches the bread and butter out of their hands and throws it on the table). Leave your bread and butter here. HERR STAAR (urging the children toward the door). Quick, quick ! CHILDREN (crying). I want my bread and butter ! My bread and butter ! BURGOMASTER (following theni). Will you hold your tongues ? FRAU STAAR. Frau Chief-Raft-and-Fishery-Master, you will have the kindness to precede me. FRAU BRENDEL. Never, Frau Town-Excise-Treasury-Secretary. I most urgently beg you FRAU MORGENROTH. Frau Under-Tax-Receiver, the honour is due to you. FRAU STAAR. The heavens preserve me ! I am at home in this house. FRAU BRENDEL. I know my place FRAU MORGENROTH. I will not stir a step. (The three begin to bow and curtsey, and all talk at the same time.) (THE CURTAIN DROPS.) August von Kotzebue (1761-1819). HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 49 HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. '"PHE Frau Obersteuerratin was " auntie" to the whole -* world ; and indeed she deserved the name, for she was a motherly friend, counsellor, and helper to all who came within her domain ; she was the best and most charitable of women, judging mildly of the weaknesses of others so long as her own little weaknesses were respected. She over- looked the eccentricities of her clerical brother, which he committed in a state of absent-mindedness, and she did not raise any objections to Susie's marvellous naivete, though often enough it caused her bitter dilemmas. It was a warm May day on which the Vicar entered the room with his usual greeting: "Good morning, Auntie good morning, Susie." Auntie nodded pleasantly. Susie, who was sitting by her on the sofa, knitting a white stocking, arose, dropped a little familiar curtsey, and said : " Votre servants, Uncle." " But, Heaven preserve us, -what is the matter with you to-day, Vicar ? " said Aunt Rosmarin. " How so ? " queried the Vicar, putting his hands in all of his pockets in a vain search for a handkerchief with which to wipe the perspiration from his brow. " It's very likely you have your wig in your pocket," said Auntie, " for your handkerchief is on your head." " On my head," exclaimed the Vicar in surprise, and putting his hand there he found it. " I shouldn't be greatly surprised if you were right, Auntie ; it's a hot, hot day ; the sun was burning, my back was burning ; I came from town, so I took off my wig to cool my head^ spread my handker- chief over the latter, and lay down in a corn-field." Again he began to search his pockets, while Susie made room for him on the sofa, and went out to get him a refresh- ing drink of water and raspberry syrup. 4 50 GERMAN HUMOUR. " What are you looking for, Vicar? " asked Auntie. " If I mistake not, I brought a letter for you from town ; but what has become of it is more than I can tell. I think it is from the Burgomaster. Seek and ye shall find." " But, Vicar, first of all, put on your wig this is very indecent. It is an insult to your congregation to walk about bald-headed." " I should hope not. But in that case I trust that there would be bears to obey me, like the prophet Elisha, and devour all bad boys who would make bold to have a laugh at me. But, ad vocem, my wig, Auntie ; what did you do with it ? " " What did I do with it ? You did not entrust it to my keeping. Perhaps you lost it on the way ! " " Heaven preserve us ! It was my best wig. You are right, Auntie; it is lying in the grass, together with the Burgo- master's letter, precisely on the spot where I myself lay a quarter of an hour ago, in the shadow of the corn." Auntie seized her bell. The maid appeared ; the Inspec- tor was called, and ordered to send for the wig and the letter as quick as possible. Auntie was quite as impatient to hide the Vicar's baldness as to read the Burgomaster's letter. The shape of the wig, as well as colour and address of the letter, were explicitly described to the Inspector, and he forthwith sent two grooms, four threshers, and one dairy- boy out upon all roads, footpaths, and byways that run between Nieder-Fahren and Waiblingen. He stationed himself upon the hill by the wind-mill and reconnoitred the field of action through a telescope. Such excellent arrange- ments could not fail to bring about the desired result. In half-an-hour the seven messengers returned to the house led by the wig, the letter, and the Inspector. Sure enough the letter was from the Burgomaster. It contained nothing less than a formal invitation to the Frau Obersteuerratin, together with her brother and Fraulein HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 51 Susie and the Inspector Sablein, to the wedding of the Burgomaster's eldest daughter. Although Auntie felt very much flattered by this attention of the Burgomaster, with whom she was but slightly acquainted, there were some difficulties in the way which must needs be talked over in a family council. Auntie was very much averse to bringing Susie into con- tact in any way with the young gentlemen of Waiblingen. First of all, Susie was seventeen years old a fact which did not seem at all portentous to the child, but all the more so to her cautious aunt. Second, Susie was beautiful as any Susanna, not excepting the one in the Old Testament. Thirdly, she had the prospect of inheriting a considerable fortune, and Auntie had no notion of giving up her darling to the first-comer. Fourthly, Susie was exceedingly inex- perienced, though she was not wanting in the usual measure of laudable curiosity. The young men of Waiblingen were in no way suited to be the companions of such a girl. First, because a great many of them were handsome, which is a very bad thing ; and secondly, they were all great lovers of comedies and novels ; they kept up an amateur stage ; and at Waiblingen two booksellers made their living with circulating libraries a bad sign of our times ! Thirdly, even though one might have forgiven them their sleek faces and romantic tendencies, few of them had a fortune that would weigh in the scales against Aunt Rosmarin's possessions, nor were they of a rank to be compared with the title of Obersteuerrat. Auntie had pondered this question long since in the silence of her own heart, and she had come to the con- clusion that it was best to take defensive measures against the elegant world of Waiblingen. Susie seldom went there, and still seldomer were there any young guests invited to Nieder-Fahren. After ripe consideration it was decided in the family 52 GERMAN HUMOUR. council, in which the Inspector also took part, to go to the wedding at the Burgomaster's, but not without the utmost caution. Auntie undertook to call Susie's attention to the dangers arising out of the affections. The Vicar was to add spiritual admonition, and the Inspector who had the reputation of having been a good walt/er in his younger years, while now he was unfortunately a bachelor of fifty-six promised to renew Susie's dancing-lessons. At the wedding all three pledged each other to do their best, and not lose the damsel out of sight. Hereupon tailors, shoemakers, and milliners were put in a fair way of getting a living. Auntie was desirous of doing whatever was due to her rank, and she also had the pardonable pride of showing off Susie's beauty to the best advantage. Susie was delighted with the elaborate preparations all this was a new experience. She put her dancing-master quite out of breath, and her only regret was that his feet being fifty-six years old were not as flexible as hers being seventeen. Joy and nature taught her to dance ; but Sablein took it all upon his account. He was nothing loath to practise his noble half-forgotten art, the less so as the family council had decreed that he alone should be Susie's partner at the wedding. Unfortunately this plan miscarried, and the reason was this. The day before the wedding all the dances were to be reviewed once more under the supervision of the Vicar and Auntie. Before the spectators came, Sablein exerted himself more than was good for him to dance at least no worse than his clever pupil. She floated about like a butterfly, and in her rapture took many a step which was no less graceful for not coming under any rule. Sablein, in an ecstasy of delight, rashly undertook to show her the acme of his art. Years ago he could dance entrechats, HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 53 ambition pricked him to make a trial once more. His first attempt was half a failure, his second was a whole one. His lank, thin-whittled legs, which had never been a cause of reproach to him, got so hopelessly and abnormally entangled that, the rest of his body keeping in motion, a disaster was inevitable. The unfortunate dancing-master fell in a most #masterly manner upon the floor, and as a falling pine uproots all blooming bushes that surround it, so he pulled down the little sylph that was frolicking about him. The Vicar, just about to open the door from without, heard the fall which shook the very foundations of the house, and entered hastily. It was partly this haste and partly the Vicar's near-sightedness, which he was wont to forget in his absent-mindedness, which became the cause of a second accident. He stepped upon the dancing-master's leg, which the latter drew back with pardonable abruptness, thereby robbing the Vicar of his equilibrium. Before he had time to beg pardon he lay upon the floor along with the others. While his powdered wig was propelled by the rapid motion far under the sofa, his short legs performed some wonderful antics, and at last turned up their soles toward Heaven, as if imploring its aid. The whole occurrence was a very short one. The Vicar was the first to gather himself up, and, mistaking Susie's snowy, befrilled cap for his escaped wig, he seized it without more ado, and covered his head therewith because he heard the Obersteuerratin at the door. Susie was on her feet too before Auntie entered. But Sablein sat upon the floor making horrible faces, for he had hurt his hip. " Great heavens ! " cried Aunt Rosmarin, clapping her hands together, and looking now at the Inspector's painful grimaces, now at her brother's head in a woman's cap. "Are you playing a farce? Are you forgetful of all decency ? Do you call this good breeding ? and especially you, Vicar ? " . . . 54 r.KKMAN HUMOUR. " And pray, why is it especially I ? " he asked with a touch of sensitiveness, for he did not greatly like his sister's sermons. Here Susie gained a hearing, and quickly restored peace by giving her perplexed aunt the explanation to this riddle, and laughingly exchanging her cap for the wig. This apparently unimportant occurrence was the first THE VICAK HASTENING TO COVF.K HIS BALDNESS. cause to all following misfortunes ; for Sablein went limping about for many days, and consequently could not dance at the wedding. Aunt Rosmarin had her suspicions when she saw Susie, now swimming in bliss, now abject and mournful, or when she heard how Susie went walking in the park evening after HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 55 evening, and when she herself, putting aside her dread of rheumatism, secretly followed her there, but always found Susie alone. Auntie shook her head, and said to her brother: "I believe, Vicar, our little baroness is in love." She had hit it, but wise Auntie never thought of the baron. "We must keep our eyes on this marvellously mysterious child, for she will confess nothing to me. It is a delicate task, I know, and I myself am too old to run after her in the park every day the Lord makes. And, of course, Vicar, it is not a matter to be entrusted to the domestics ; that were con- trary to all dignity and order. But at the same time she must be watched, for these constant visits to the park for the last fortnight must have some good reason." " Trust me, Auntie," said the Vicar " trust me ; I will guard the park like a spy. Murder shall out. This is just the sort of thing that suits me." The plans were laid with great subtlety. The Vicar looked unconcerned in Susie's presence, and the following day at sunset he started upon his errand. He was indeed very lucky, for the Baron was really in the park. He was twice lucky, for it so happened that he entered the park from the side where it touched the woods, and where the Baron was wont to enter it. He was in the habit of leaving his horse there, and giving it to the servant to hold. The servant, finding his task decidedly dull, had to-day tied the Baron's horse to a young birch-tree and gone about his own affairs. The Vicar looked at the elegantly-equipped noble steed from all sides, and nodding his head thought- fully, unfastened it, saying to himself, " I'll take it home to our stable ; the owner will no doubt apply for it, and all the rest will follow. In truth, it's a shrewd plan ! " But there was an unfavourable circumstance. There seemed to be a secret understanding between the horse 56 GERMAN HUMOUR. and his master. He most decidedly objected to being pulled along by the bridle ; no amount of patting and caressing had any effect ; he planted his fore-legs firmly on the ground and pulled his head back. "Friend," said the Vicar, "at best you are but a beast, and you have no eyes behind your ears. I'll wager you will go willingly." With that he climbed upon the noble animal's back, which stood as patient as a lamb. To be sure it was thirty years or more since the good Vicar had been on horse- back, and, moreover, his legs were about two inches too short for the stirrups; but then it was to be but a few moments' ride, and it was well to show Aunt Rosmarin that he had not forgotten the chivalrous arts over his the- ology. Over and above all this there was danger in delay. So he belaboured the horse's shanks with his boots, and the steed, taken aback by such ill-treatment, at once began to canter along the woody path, across the field into the open road, having for weeks past traversed no other way than this with the Baron. The Vicar, in danger of losing his balance, with laudable precaution clasped his fingers in the mane of his Pegasus. Finding himself upon the road, however, instead of parading under Auntie's window, he tried to grasp the bridle. Over this attempt he came very near losing both stirrups. Making sure of these once more, he let the bridle alone. For a while these two purposes warred with each other, and between times he admonished the fiery horse with many caresses to stand still. But it was all in vain ; and when in his despair he pulled the line too tight, at the same time clasping the horse's sides firmly with his legs, it forthwith rose upon its hind feet, and, to his inexpressible horror, began to walk about like a human being, and perform tricks which were positively not to the Vicar's taste just at that moment. He now succumbed to fate and to his horse, clinging to the latter with hands and feet while it sped along at a full HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 57 gallop till the poor Vicar was deaf and blind with dizzi- ness. " Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee," he sighed. " If this isn't the very devil himself! Had I but left the beast standing where I was how happy should I be ! " It so happened that right here the road had been barred by peasants in honour of the grazing cattle. " Te Deum laudamus ! " cried the Vicar. " Here surely ' FELT THE WAVES PENETRATE HIS BLACK SILK STOCKINGS. this rascal of a horse will come to a stand." But the steed leaped over as if he had wings, so that the horseman's hair stood on end, and his hat and wig took flight in horror. " I have learned to ride better than you, for I still hold my seat," said the good Vicar in Christian tranquillity to the truants, not venturing to turn and look after them. " Whither, in the Lord's name ? Twice four-and-twenty hours at this rate and we shall have spanned this terrestrial 58 r.KKMAN HUMOUR. glol>c and come out on the other side at Nieder-Fahren." As he was saying this they approached a bridge. The Vicar, in terror lest the horse in its blind rage might miss the bridge and leap into the stream, tugged frantically at the line on the side nearest to the bridge. But he tugged too long ; the provoking animal thereupon left the bridge lying at the right, and jumped into the water. The Vicar came very near fainting away when he became aware of floating between heaven and water, and felt the waves penetrate his black silk stockings, and soon after his velvet breeches, until they played about his hips. The horse, which was a capital swimmer, reached the opposite shore in safety, regained the road, and jauntily continued its journey until it reached Schloss Malzen, where it darted joyfully with the Vicar into the open door of the stable, standing still at last in its own familiar stall. The servants in the courtyard ran in after him, helped the rider out of the saddle, and anxiously inquired how he had come into possession of the Baron's horse. An unspeakable sense of blissful security seized the much- tried clergyman as once more he felt terra-firma beneath his feet. Deprived of his hat and his wig, to be sure, and the lower half of his body dripping with water, far from home, the approaching night before him, and upon the domain of the arch-enemy of Nieder-Fahren all these circumstances served to make the situation not altogether agreeable. But what cared he so long as his life was saved ? While the servants were storming the breathless gentleman with questions the Haron's steward appeared upon the scene, and hospitably urged him to come into the house. As upon his request a carriage was promised him to take him back to Nieder-Fahren, he consented to enter and rest before his departure. Meanwhile nearly two hours passed; no carriage appeared, and the Vicar began to wax suspicious lest he was being treated as a prisoner for having run away with the THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 59 horse, although he had repeatedly affirmed that it was he who had been run away with. He finally decided to take flight. He arose, and was about to open the door, when Baron Pompeius von Malzen entered, having arrived upon his lackey's horse while the despairing lackey was on a search for the Baron's steed through the whole of Ober and Nieder- Fahren. The Baron, recognising the worthy uncle of his wife the tale concerning the arrival of the horse with a wigless and decidedly damp clergyman had been related to him in the courtyard at once escorted him to a better room, ordered dry clothing, and gave the Vicar time to change his garments. His departure was quite out of the question for that night ; the Baron would not let the opportunity escape him to heap coals of fire upon the head of one of his adversaries, to entertain him sumptuously, and overwhelm him with courtesies. Susie's uncle, surprised at the Baron's cordial manner, soon felt very comfortable behind smoking viands and bottles of Burgundy. Still, however soft and firm he sat upon the luxurious cushions of his chair, he could not for the whole evening rid himself of the notion, as he said, of having " the hellish beast " between his legs. " At the same time I am more grateful to my good horse than I can tell you," said the Baron, " for bringing me the uncle of my beloved wife. I have long wished for the honour of your acquaintance, so that I might beg for your kind intercession. I adore my wife, and a separation is about to be forced upon us. My wife has forgiven me nay, more, she loves me ; she does not desire a separation, and yet " Loves you ? Does not desire a separation ? " cried the Vicar, shaking his head, which was adorned with the Baron's best cotton night-cap. " Will you have proofs ? " said the Baron. " Ah, I will 6O GERMAN HUMOUR. l)c frank with our dear uncle. You shall know all. This hour may decide our life's happiness." He thereupon went and fetched Susie's letters. And indeed from his niece's letters the Vicar saw that l>ctween her and the Baron there was eternal peace, and a great deal more that is eternal. He seemed greatly touched as he laid the letters down ; he stretched out his hand across the table, and said " Baron, I for my part will make peace with you. Susie shall be yours, and the law-suit may go to the dogs. But we must handle Aunt Rosmarin carefully. She is a dear, good woman, but she has peculiar ideas about some things. Up to this day I was a raging Saul, henceforth I shall be a gentle Paul, and shall begin at once upon my work of conversion." The Baron jumped up, embracing and kissing brave Saul in a rapture of delight. Meanwhile Aunt Rosmarin had heard her brother relate the story of his adventure. When he told her how he found the horse, her eyes sparkled with pleasure at the discovery. The fact of his getting into the saddle she accompanied with the remark : " You don't know how to ride. Every cobbler to his last ! " When he came to his aerial flight across the bar, and his swim through the stream, she jumped up, nervously seized her brother's two hands and cried, " For heaven's sake, what dangers were you subject to ! " And she did not regain her composure until he halted before the horse's crib. Then, as the Baron came in, her face lengthened ; the warmer the Vicar grew in chanting his praises the cooler was Aunt Rosmarin. And when he had the audacity to add, " Susie does not seem to dislike the Baron ; seems to me we had better let the law- suit go, and let things take their course," Auntie shook her HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND. 6 1 head, while she gazed at her brother from top to toe with wide open eyes. " Well, I never ! " said she. " I fear me the ride and the fright have done you some injury. If the Baron did not turn you out into the pitch-dark night, giving you lodging and food instead, he did no more than heathens and barbarians would have done. You need not think I'll give him Susie for his roasts and his Burgundy. A weak sort of man you must be to be willing to sacrifice your principles and all the disgrace and sorrow our family has suffered through the Baron for one poor supper." Then did the Vicar arise in indignation and say, " Why, Aunt Rosmarin, has all Christian charity gone out of you ? I wish then that you had ridden the Baron's horse in my stead; I wish you had been called upon to fly through the air, and to swim through the surging billows, to make the acquaintance of an honourable man Then you would think different." Aunt Rosmarin thought her brother's remarkable wish very improper, as well as insulting. She thereupon gave him a lecture lasting three hours, and having for its perpetual refrain, " I will not hear another word about the Baron. In future I shall act alone, in strict accordance with my principles." Heinrich Zschokke (1771-1 848). 62 GERMAN HUMOUR. THE <}fAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW. \\ 7 1 1 AT was my horror to see the man in grey come * * behind with the evident purpose of accosting me. He raised his hat and bowed with a more profound obeis- ance than I had ever been honoured with. I returned the courtesy, and stood bare-headed in the sun as if rooted to the ground. I stared at him in an agony of terror, like a bird under the spell of a serpent. He seemed greatly embarrassed, did not raise his eyes, bowed repeatedly, approached me, and began to speak in a gentle, wavering voice, with the tone of a mendicant. " I trust your Honour will have the kindness to pardon my presumption in venturing to address you, being a stranger. I have a very particular request to make. Graciously permit me, sir " For heaven's sake," I cried in terror, " what can I do for a man who We both stopped, and, as it seemed to me, we blushed. After a moment of silence he began again. " During the short time that it was my good fortune to enjoy the presence of your company, I have had occasion more than once to gaze if you will permit me to say so with inexpressible admiration upon the well-formed, handsome shadow which, with an air of noble disdain, as if scorning to set any value upon it, you cast behind you. It is a superb shadow you have there lying at your feet. Pardon the temerity of the suggestion ; would it be possible to induce you to sell this same shadow to me ? " He ceased speaking, and it seemed as if a wheel were going around in my head. What was I to make of this remarkable proposition ? He must be crazy, I thought, and in an altered voice, more suited to the humility of his tone, I replied THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW. 63 " Go to, good friend; have you not enough with your own shadow?" What you propose is a very strange bargain." He interrupted me with, "I have many a useful thing in my pocket that your Honour might find convenient; for this inestimable shadow there is no price I should deem too high. To show my gratitude to you, sir, I would give you your own choice of all the treasures I carry about with me. I have miraculous wands of the witch-hazel, I have Mercury's cap and potent draughts, the dish-cloth of Roland's page, and a Homunculus, but best of all is the magic purse of Fortunatus." "A magic purse," I inter- rupted him, and great as was my horror, he had captured my sensibilities with that word. A deathly giddiness came over me, and rows of ducats seemed to twinkle before my eyes. " Would your Honour have the goodness to examine the purse ? He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a medium-sized, strongly-made bag of leather, with heavy leather cords for draw-strings, and handed me the same. I put my hand in and pulled out ten golden coins, and ten more, and ten more, and ten more. I held out my hand to him : " It is a bargain ; for the bag I'll give you " my shadow." He clasped my hand to seal the bargain, and then quickly knelt down before me, and with marvellous dexterity loosening my shadow from the grass, he lifted it, rolled it up, folded it, and at last put it in his pocket. He arose, bowed once more, and then vanished among the rose bushes. Methought I heard him laugh softly to himself. I held the bag tightly in my hands. Round about me the earth was bright with sunshine, and within me there was as yet no wisdom. Meanwhile it had grown late, and, unnoticed, the dawn preceding sunrise was brightening the sky. It was a very unpleasant surprise when I looked up and saw the glory of colour unfold in the east. There was no refuge on this open 64 GERMAN HUMOUR. plain that I was traversing from the approaching sun, and that too at an hour when shadows sport their utmost extension ! And I was not alone 1 I glanced at my companion, and once more I trembled. He was no other than the man in grey. He smiled at my consternation, and continued, without giving me time to speak : " Let us, true to the custom of the world, be united for a while by the reciprocal advantages to be derived from such a union ; we have time enough to separate later on. This road which you are taking happens to be my road also. I see you turn pale before the rising sun. I will lend you your shadow for the time of our com- panionship, and in return I will ask you to tolerate me at your side. You have lost your servant Bendel ; I will yield you as good service. You do not look upon me with favour ; this I greatly regret I can be of service to you, neverthe- less. The devil is not as black as he is painted. It is true you offended me yesterday ; to-day I bear you no ill-will, and I have shortened the way for you so far, as you yourself must confess. Will you not give your shadow a trial ? " The sun had risen, early wayfarers came along the road ; however distasteful it- might be, I accepted his proposal. Smiling, he allowed my shadow to glide upon the ground. It fell into place on the shadow of my horse, and cheerily trotted along beside me. Strange feelings took possession of me. I rode past a group of country people, who, with uncovered head, respectfully made room for a person of quality. Irodeon, and looked with greedy eyes and a beating heart down from my horse upon the shadow that once was mine, and which I had now borrowed from a stranger, ay, from an enemy. The latter walked unconcernedly beside me, whistling a tune he on foot, I on horseback ! A tremor seized me ; the temptation was too great ; I suddenly turned my horse's head, gave him the spurs, and off I went in a full canter down a byway; but I did not succeed in bringing the shadow with me ; as the horse turned it slipped down, and THE MAN WHO SOLD HIS SHADOW. 65 awaited its lawful master in the road. There was nothing for it but a shamefaced admission of defeat. I rode back, and the man in grey, first finishing the tune he was whistling, laughed at me, pulled my shadow straight again, and in- formed me that it would not stick to me, and be content to "OFF I WENT IN A FULL CANTER." stay with me, until it was once more my lawful property. " I hold you by your shadow," he added ; " and you will not escape me. A rich man like you cannot get on without a shadow. You are to be blamed in so far as you did not find that out before." A. von Chamisso (1781-1838). 5 66 GERMAN HUMOUR. THE GHOST OF DR. ASCHER. '"PHE night I spent at Goslar something very remarkable -* occurred. Terror seizes me even now as I think back. I am not timid by nature, but I have a mortal terror of ghosts. What is fear ? Is it a product of the under- standing or of the soul ? About this question I had many a discussion with Dr. Saul Ascher in Berlin when we met in the Cafe Royal, where I used to dine. He would have THE GHOST OF DR. ASCHER. 6/ it that we fear a thing because our reason recognises therein due cause for terror. While I was eating and drinking to my satisfaction he was fond of constantly demonstrating the fine qualities of Reason. Toward the end of his demonstra- tion he would look at his watch, and he always ended with : " Reason is the highest principle ! " Reason ! When I so much as hear the word I see before me Dr. Ascher with his abstract legs, his tight waistcoat of transcendental grey, and his harsh bitter-cold face, which might have served as a title-vignette to a book on geometry. The man was a straight line personified. In his search after the Positive the poor man had philosophised all grandeur out of life, all sunbeams, all faith, and all flowers, and all that remained to him was a cold, positive grave. He cherished a pet aversion for the Apollo of Belvedere and for Christianity. He even went so far as to write a pamphlet about the latter, proving it to be unreasonable and untenable. Indeed he wrote a host of books, in each of which Reason brags of its own excellence. The poor Doctor was serious enough about it, and in this respect they deserve esteem. But it was just this which was the best joke of all that he would put on so fatuously serious a mien when he could not understand what every child understands by very reason of its childhood. I called upon this reasonable Doctor in his own house once or twice, and I found beautiful women there, for Reason does not forbid sensuality. Once when I intended to call upon him his servant said : " The Doctor has just died." It did not impress me any more strongly than if he had said : " The Doctor is gone out." But to return to Goslar. "The highest principle is Reason ! " I said consolingly to myself as I got into bed. It did not answer the purpose, however. I had just been reading that horrible story in Varnhagen von Ense's Deutsche Erzahlungen^ which I had brought with me from Clansthal, how a son, whose father intended to 68 GERMAN HUMOUR. murder him, was warned at night by his mother's ghost. The marvellous effectiveness of the story caused me to shiver with horror while reading. Then, too, ghost stories excite the most uncanny sensations when read on a journey, and especially at night in a town, in a house, in a room where one has never been. How many horrible things may have happened upon this very spot where I am now lying ? One cannot refrain from conjecturing. Moreover, the moon shone so doubtfully into the room ; all sorts of uncalled-for shadows were moving along the wall, and when I raised myself in bed to look closer, I saw There is nothing more weird than to come unintentionally upon one's own face in a mirror by the light of the moon. At the same moment a lumbering sleepy clock began to strike, and, moreover, it struck so long and so slowly that after the twelfth stroke I verily believed twelve hours had gone by, and it would have to begin over again and strike twelve once more. Between the last beat and the last but one, another clock struck very rapidly with a rasping shrill- ness, put out of temper perhaps by the dulness of its kins- woman. When at last both iron tongues subsided and the silence of death reigned in the house, it seemed to me suddenly as if I heard something slur and drag along the passage just outside of my door like the unsteady gait of a man. At last my door was opened, and slowly the late Dr. Saul Ascher walked into my room. A cold chill passed through my bones I trembled like a leaf, and hardly did I dare to look at the ghost. He looked just the same as ever the same transcendental grey waistcoat, the same abstract legs, and the same mathematical face ; only that the latter was a little yellower than I remembered it, and the mouth, which had always formed two angles of 22^ degrees, was tightly shut, and the circles of his eyes had a longer radius. Wavering and leaning, as had been his custom, upon a slender stick, he approached me, and in his THE GHOST OF DR. ASCII ER. 69 usual lazy dialect said pleasantly, " Do not be afraid, and don't believe me to be a ghost. It is an illusion of the senses if you imagine you see a ghost. What is a ghost ? Give me a definition. Deduce the conditions for the possibility of a ghost. In what reasonable relation to your reason would such a phenomenon be ! Reason, I say Reason " And now the ghost proceeded to analyse Reason, quoting Kant, Part 2, Division i, Book 2, Proposition 3, " The dis- tinction between phenomena and noumena," constructing the problematic belief in ghosts, piling syllogism upon syllogism with the logical conclusion that there is positively no such thing as a ghost. All the while the perspiration was cold upon my back, my teeth were chattering ; in my terror I nodded unqualified assent to every sentence in which the spook-doctor had proved the absurdity of my fears, and the latter was demonstrating so eagerly that in a moment of abstraction, instead of his gold watch he pulled a handful of worms out of his vest pocket, and discovering his error he replaced them with ridiculous nervous haste. " Reason is the highest The clock struck one, and the ghost vanished. Heinrich Heine (1799-1856). 7O GERMAN HUMOUR. TOURISTS AT THE BROCK EN. T T PON entering the Brocken-hbuse a somewhat unusual ^ romantic mood came over me. After long and lonely wanderings among rocks and hemlocks, one seems suddenly transported to a house in the clouds. I found the house full of guests ; and as it becomes a man of wise foresight, I thought of the night and of the discomfort pertaining to a couch of straw. With a dying voice I ordered tea, where- upon the Herr host was so reasonable as to be convinced that an invalid like me must needs have a decent bed. . . . Having refreshed myself, I climbed up to the look-out, and found a diminutive gentleman with two ladies, one young, the other elderly. When I was a boy I thought of nothing but of wondrous fairy-tales, and every pretty woman with ostrich feathers on her head I took to be a fairy -queen. If by good chance the hem of her dress was bedraggled, I took her for a water-nymph. Had I looked upon the fair one with those boyish eyes, had I seen her then upon the Hrocken, I should certainly have said to myself, this is the sylph of the mountain, and she has just uttered the charm which makes all below appear so wondrously beau- tiful. What relation the very lithe gentleman bore to the ladies whom he accompanied I could not ascertain. His was a thin peculiar figure. His little head, sparsely covered with grey hair, which fell over his low forehead nearly to his pale greenish eyes ; his clumsy nose far pro- truding ; his mouth and chin timidly drawing back in the direction of his ears. This little face seemed to be modelled out of a certain kind of delicate, yellowish clay, such as sculptors use for their first design ; and when his narrow lips were shut tight, a thousand little folds, light and semi- circular, covered his cheeks. The little man did not say a TOURISTS AT THE BROCKEN. 7 1 word, only now and then, when the elder lady whispered something kind to him, he would srnile like a pug with a cold in his head. . . . While we were speaking it began to grow dusk ; the air grew chillier, the sun sank lower, and students, travelling journeymen, and a couple of honest bourgeois with their wives and daughters, crowded upon the platform to see the sunset. It is a marvellous sight, tuning the soul to prayer. During a quarter of an hour we all stood in solemn silence, and saw the gorgeous globe of fire slowly sink in the west; our faces reflected the evening glory, our hands were folded involuntarily ; it seemed as if we stood a silent congregation in the aisle of a cathedral, and the priest was holding up the body of the Lord, and from the organ sounded Palestrina's immortal anthem. As I stood thus enwrapped in the fervour of devotion, I heard some one calling out beside me, " How beautiful is nature on the whole ! " These words proceeded out of the overflowing breast of my room-mate, the young merchant. I was at once landed thereby in my work-day mood, and was now able to make a great many brilliant remarks to the ladies about the sunset. I escorted them to their room as if nothing had happened. I believe we talked about Angora cats, Etruscan vases, Turkish shawls, macaroni, and Lord Byron, from whose poems the elder lady recalled some sunset passages, which she recited with a pretty lisp and sigh. To the younger lady, who did not know English, and expressed a wish to read these poems, I recommended some excellent translations. Upon this occasion I did not fail to declaim, as it is my custom to do when conversing with young ladies, against Byron's impiety, heartlessness, hopelessness, and heaven knows what all. It was the coffee's fault that I had forgotten my pretty lady. She was standing outside of the door with her mother and companion, preparing to get into the carriage. There was but just time for me to step up to her briskly 72 GKKMAN HUMOUR. and assure her that it was cold. She seemed displeased that I had not come sooner; but I smoothed the pettish frown from her fair brow by bestowing a wonderful flower upon her, which I had picked the day before from a steep precipice at the danger of breaking my neck. Her mother demanded the name of the flower, considering it improper as it were for her daughter to wear a strange, unknown flower upon her bosom. Her taciturn companion unex- pectedly opened his mouth, counted the stamens of the flower, and dryly remarked that it belonged to the eighth class. It aggravates me when I see how God's dear flowers are parcelled off into classes as well as we, and indeed, according to a method no less superficial viz., the differ- ence in the number of stamens. If there must be subdivision, it would be well to follow the suggestion of Theophrast, who would have flowers classified according to their spirit that is, their fragrance. So far as I am con- cerned, I have my own system in natural science, and according to it I classify all things into those that are good to eat, and those that are not. Heinrich Heine. MY APPRECIATIVE FRIEND. T_J E called my attention to the utility and perfect adapta- tion of nature. The trees are green, it seems, because green is good for one's eyes. I assented, and added that God has created cattle, because broth is strengthening to men, and that he has created asses that we might have a means of comparison, and that he has created man himself to eat broth and be no ass. My companion was enchanted to have found a congenial spirit ; his countenance beamed happiness, and at parting he seemed deeply touched. Heinrich Heine. FROM HEINE. 73 "MADAM, DO YOU KNOW THE OLD PLAY?" " She was lovable, and he loved her. But he was not lovable, and she did not love him." Old Play. TV /T ADAM, do you know the old play ? It is quite an ** extraordinary play, only a little too melancholy. I once played the leading part in it myself, so that all the ladies wept ; only one did not weep, not even a single tear, and that was the point of the play, the whole catastrophe. Oh, that single tear ! it still torments my thoughts. When Satan wishes to ruin my soul, he hums in my ear a ballad of that unwept tear, a deadly song with a more deadly tune. Ah, such a tune is only heard in hell ! You can readily form an idea, Madam, of what life is like in heaven, the more readily as you are married. There people amuse themselves altogether superbly, every sort of entertainment is provided, and one lives in mere desire and delight. One eats from morning to night, and the cookery is as good as Fagor's ; roast geese fly round with gravy-boats in their bills, and feel flattered if any one eats them ; tarts gleaming with butter grow wild like sunflowers; everywhere there are brooks of bouillon and champagne, everywhere trees on which napkins flutter, and you eat and wipe your lips and eat again without injury to your stomach; you sing psalms or flirt and joke with the dear, delicate little angels, or take a walk on the green Hallelujah- meadow ; and your white flowing garments fit very comfort- ably; and nothing disturbs the feeling of blessedness; no pain, no vexation even when one accidentally treads on another's corns and exclaims, " Excuses," he smiles as if enraptured, and assures, " Thy foot, brother, did not hurt in the least ; quite au contraire a deeper thrill of heavenly rapture shoots through my heart ! " 74 (1ERMAN HUMOUR. Hut of hell, Madam, you have no idea. Of all the devils you know perhaps only the little Amor, the pretty croupier of hell, Beelzebub, and you know him only from Don Juan, and doubtless think that for such a betrayer of innocence hell can never be made hot enough, though our praise- worthy theatre directors spend upon him as much flame, fiery rain, powder, and colophoniam as any Christian could desire in hell. But things in hell look much worse than our theatre directors know, or they would not bring out so many bad plays. For in hell it is infernally hot, and when I was there in the dog-days it was past endurance. Madam, you can have no idea of hell ! We have very few official returns from the place. Still, it is rank calumny to say that down there all the poor souls are compelled to read the whole day long all the dull sermons that are printed on earth. Bad as hell is, it has not come to that ; Satan will never invent such refinements of torture. On the other hand, Dante's description is too mild on the whole, too poetic. Hell appeared to me like a great kitchen, with an endless long stove, on which stood three rows of iron pots, and in these sat the damned and were cooked. In one row were placed Christian sinners, and, incredible as it may seem, their number was anything but small, and the devils poked the fire up under them with especial good-will. In the next row were Jews, who continually screamed and cried, and were occasionally mocked by the fiends, which sometimes seemed very amusing, as, for instance, when a fat, wheezy, old pawnbroker complained of the heat, and a little devil poured several buckets of cold water on his head, that he might realise what a refreshing benefit baptism was. In the third row sat the heathen, who, like the Jews, could take no part in salvation, and must burn for ever. I heard one of these, as a burly devil put fresh coals under his kettle, cry out from his spot, " Spare me ! I was Socrates, the wisest of mortals. I taught Truth and Justice, and FROM HEINE. 75 sacrificed my life for Virtue." But the stupid, burly devil went on with his work and grumbled, " Oh, shut up th^re ! All heathens must burn, and we cannot make an exception for the sake of a single man." I assure you, Madam, the heat was terrible, with such a screaming, sighing, groaning, quacking, grunting, squealing and through all these terrible sounds rang distinctly the deadly tune of the song of the unwept tear. " She was lovable, and he loved her. But he was not lovable, and she did not love him." Old Play. Madam, that old play is a tragedy, though the hero in it is neither killed nor commits suicide. The eyes of the heroine are beautiful, very beautiful. Madam, do you smell the perfume of violets ? very beautiful, and yet so piercing that they struck like poignards of glass through my heart, and probably came out through my back, and yet I was not killed by those treacherous, murderous eyes. The voice of the heroine was also sweet. Madam, did you hear a nightin- gale just then? a soft silken voice, a sweet web of the sunniest tones, and my soul was entangled in it and choked, and tormented itself. I myself it is the Count of Ganges who now speaks, and the story goes on in Venice I myself soon had enough of these tortures, and had thoughts of putting an end to the play in the first act, and of shooting myself through the head, fool's cap and all I went to a fancy shop in the Via Burstah, where I saw a pair of beautiful pistols in a case I remember them perfectly well. Near them stood many pleasant playthings of mother-of- pearl and gold, steel hearts on gilt chains, porcelain cups with delicate devices, and snuff-boxes with pretty pictures, such as the divine history of Susanna, the Swan Song of Leda, the Rape of the Sabines, Lucretia, a fat, virtuous creature, with naked bosom, in which she was lazily sticking a dagger; the late Bethmann, la belle Ferrontire all 76 GKKMAN HUMOUR. enrapturing faces but I bought the pistols without much ado, and then I bought balls, then powder, and then I went to the restaurant of Signer Somebody and ordered oysters and a glass of Hock. I could eat nothing, and still less could I drink. The warm tears fell in the glass, and in that glass I saw my dear home, the holy, blue Ganges, the ever-gleaming Himalaya, the giant banyan woods, amid whose broad arcades calmly wandered wise elephants and white-robed pilgrims; strange, dream-like flowers gazed on me with meaning glance, wondrous golden birds sang wildly, flashing sun-rays, and the sweet, silly chatter of monkeys pleasantly mocked me; from far pagodas sounded the pious prayers of priests, and amid all rang the melting, wailing voice of the Sultana of Delhi. She ran impetuously around in her carpeted chamber, she tore her silver veil, with her peacock fan she struck the black slave to the ground, she wept, she raged, she cried. I could not, however, hear what she said ; the restaurant of Signor Somebody is three thousand miles distant from the harem of Delhi, besides the fair sultana had been dead three thousand years, and I quickly drank up the wine, the clear, joy-giving wine, and yet my soul grew darker and sadder I was condemned to death. As I left the restaurant I heard the "bell of poor sinners" ring, a crowd of people swept by me; but I placed myself at the corner of the Strada San Giovanni, and recited the following monologue: In ancient tales they tell of golden castles, Where harps are sounding, lovely ladies dance, And gay attendants gleam, and jessamine, Myrtle, and roses spread their soft perfume And yet a single word of sad enchantment Sweeps all the glory of the scene to naught, And there remain but ruins old and grey, And screaming birds of night and foul morass. Even so have I, with but a single word, FROM HEINE. 77 Enchanted Nature's blooming loveliness. There lies she now, lifeless, cold, and pale, Just like a monarch's corse laid out in state, The royal deathly cheeks fresh stained with rouge, And in his hand the kingly sceptre laid, Yet still his lips are yellow, and most changed, For they forgot to dye them, as they should, And mice are jumping o'er the monarch's nose, And mock the golden sceptre in his grasp. It is everywhere agreed, Madam, that one should deliver a soliloquy before shooting himself. Most men on such occasions use Hamlet's " To be, or not to be." It is an excellent passage, and I would gladly have quoted it but charity begins at home, and when a man has written tragedies himself, in which such farewell-to-life speeches occur as, for instance, in my immortal Almansor, it is very natural that one should prefer his own words even to Shakespeare's. At any rate, the delivery of such speeches is a very useful custom ; one gains at least a little time. And so it came to pass that I remained a rather long time standing at the corner Strada San Giovanni and as I stood there like a condemned criminal awaiting death, I raised my eyes and suddenly beheld her. She wore her blue silk dress and rose-red hat, and her eyes looked at me so mildly, so death-conqueringly, so life-givingly Madam, you well know, out of Roman history, that when the vestals in ancient Rome met on their way a malefactor led to death they had the right to pardon him, and the poor rogue lived. With a single glance she saved me from death, and I stood before her revived, and dazzled by the sunbeams of her beauty, and she passed on and left me alive. And she left me alive, and I live, which is the main point. Others may, if they choose, enjoy the good fortune of having their lady-love adorn their grave with garlands, and water them with the tears of fidelity. Oh, women ! hate me, laugh at me, jilt me, but let me live ! Life is all too 78 GERMAN HUMOUR. laughably sweet, and the world too delightfully bewildered; it is the dream of an intoxicated god, who has taken French leave of the carousing multitude of immortals, and has laid himself down to sleep in a solitary star, and knows not himself that he created all that he dreams and the dream- images form themselves in such a mad, variegated fashion, and often so harmoniously reasonable the Iliad, Plato, the battle of Marathon, Moses, Medician Venus, Strasburg Cathedral, the French Revolution, Hegel, the steamboat, etc., etc., are single good thoughts in this divine dream but it will not last long, and the god awakes, and rubs his sleepy eyes, and smiles and our world has run to nothing yes, has never been. No matter ! I live. If I am but a shadowy image in a dream, still this is better than the cold, black, void, annihila- tion of Death. Life is the greatest good, and death the worst evil. Berlin lieutenants of the guard may sneer and call it cowardice because the Prince of Homburg shudders when he beholds his open grave. Henry Kleist had, how- ever, as much courage as his high-breasted, tightly-laced colleagues, and has, alas ! proved it. But all strong men love life. Goethe's Egmont does not part willingly from the " cheerful wont of being and working." Immermann's Edwin clings to life " like a little child to his mother's breast," and though he finds it hard to live by stranger mercy, he still begs for mercy : " For life and breath is still the highest." When Odysseus in the under-world sees Achilles as the leader of dead heroes, and extols his renown among the living, and his glory even among the dead, Achilles answers " No more discourse of death consolingly, noble Odysseus ! Rather would I in the field as daily labourer be toiling, Slave to the meanest of men, a pauper and lacking possessions, Than 'mid the infinite host of long-vanished mortals be ruler." FROM HEINE. 79 Yes, when Major Duvent challenged the great Israel Lyon to fight with pistols, and said to him, " If you do not meet me, Mr. Lyon, you are a dog ; " the latter replied, " I would rather be a live dog than a dead lion ! " and he was right. I have fought often enough, Madam, to dare to say this, God be praised ! I live ! Red life pulses in my veins ; earth yields beneath my feet ; in the glow of love I embrace trees and statues, and they live in my embrace. Every woman is to me the gift of a world. I revel in the melody of her countenance, and with a single glance of my eye I can enjoy more than others with their every limb through all their lives. Every instant is to me an eternity. I do not measure time with the ell of Brabant or of Hamburg, and I need no priest to promise me a second life, for I can live enough in this life, when I live backwards in the life of those who have gone before me, and win myself an eternity in the realm of the past. And I live ! The great pulsation of nature beats too in my breast; and when I carol aloud I am answered by a thousand- fold echo. I hear a thousand nightingales. Spring has sent them to awaken earth from her morning slumber, and earth trembles with ecstasy. Her flowers are hymns, which she sings in inspiration to the sun. The sun moves far too slowly. I would fain lash on his steeds that they might advance more rapidly. But when he sinks hissing in the sea, and the night rises with her passionate eyes, oh ! then true pleasure first thrills through me, the evening breezes lie like flattering maidens on my wild heart, and the stars wink to me, and I rise and sweep over the little earth and the little thoughts of men. Madam, I have deceived you. I am not the Count of the Ganges. Never in my life have I seen the holy stream, nor the lotus-flowers which are mirrored in its sacred waves. Never did I lie dreaming under Indian palms, nor in prayer before the Diamond Deity Juggernaut, who with his 80 GERMAN HUMOUR. diamonds might have easily aided me out of my difficulties. I have no more been in Calcutta than the turkey, of which I ate yesterday at dinner, had ever been in the realms of the Grand Turk. Vet my ancestors came from Hindustan, and therefore I feel so much at my case in the great forest of song of Valmiki. The heroic sorrows of the divine Ramo move my heart like familiar griefs ; from the flower lays of Kalidasa the sweetest memories bloom ; and when a few years ago a gentle lady in Berlin showed me the beautiful pictures which her father, who had been Governor in India, had brought from thence, the delicately-painted, holy, calm faces seemed as familiar to me as though I were gazing at my own family gallery. Franz Bopp, Madam you have of course read his Nalus and his system of Sanscrit Conjugations gave me much information relative to my ancestry, and I now know with certainty that I am descended from Brahma's head, and not from his corns. I have also good reason to believe that the entire Mahabarata, with its two hundred thousand verses, is merely an allegorical love-letter which my first fore-father wrote to my first fore-mother. Oh, they loved dearly ; their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes; they were both but one single kiss. An enchanted nightingale sits on a red coral bough in the silent sea, and sings a song of the love of my ancestors; the pearls gaze eagerly from their shells, the wonderful water-flowers tremble with sorrow, the cunning sea-snails, bearing on their backs many-coloured porcelain towers, come creeping onwards, the ocean roses blush with shame, the yellow, sharp-pointed starfish and the thousand-hued glassy jelly-fish quiver and stretch, and all swarm and listen. Unfortunately, Madam, this nightingale song is far too long to be set down here ; it is as long as the world itself. Kven its dedication to Anangas, the God of Love, is as long FROM HEINE. 8l " SIT THE GOOD TOWNSPEOPLE OF A SUMMER EVENING." as all Scott's novels ; and there is a passage referring to it in Aristophanes, which .in German reads thus " Tiotio, tiotio, tiotinx, Totototo, totototo, tototinx." No, I was not born in India. I first beheld the light of the world on the shore of that beautiful stream on whose green hills folly grows and is plucked in autumn, laid away in cellars, poured into barrels, and exported to foreign lands. In fact, only yesterday I heard some one speaking a piece of folly, which in the year 1811 was imprisoned in a bunch of grapes which I myself then saw growing on the Johannis- berg. But much folly is also consumed at home, and men are the same there as everywhere ; they are born, eat, 6 82 GKRMAN HUMOUR. drink, sleep, laugh, cry, slander each other, are greatly troubled about the propagation of their race, try to seem what they are not, and to do what they cannot ; never shave until they have a beard, and often have beards before they get discretion ; and when they have at last discretion, they drink it away in white and red folly. Afon dieu ! If I had faith, so that I could remove moun- tains the Johannisberg would be just the mountain which I would carry with me everywhere. But as my faith is not strong enough, imagination must aid me, and she quickly sets me by the beautiful Rhine. Oh, that is a fair land, full of loveliness and sunshine. In the blue stream are mirrored the mountain shores, with their ruined towers and woods and ancient towns. There, before the house-door, sit the good townspeople of a summer evening, and drink out of great cans, and gossip confidentially about how the wine the Lord be praised ! thrives, and how justice should be free from all secrecy, and how Marie Antoinette's being guillotined is none of our business, and how dear the tobacco tax makes tobacco, and how all mankind are equal, and what a glorious fellow Goerres is. I have never troubled myself about such conversation, and sat rather with the maidens in the arched window, and laughed at their laughter, and let them throw flowers in my face, and pretended to be ill-natured until they told me their secrets, or some other important stories. Fair Gertrude was half wild with delight when I sat by her. She was a girl like a flaming rose ; and once, as she fell on my neck, I thought that she would burn away into perfume in my arms. Fair Katharine flamed into sweet music when she talked with me , and her eyes were of a pure, internal blue, which I have never seen in men or animals, and very seldom in flowers ; one gaxed so gladly into them, and could then think such sweet things. But the beautiful FROM HEINE. 83 Hedwig loved me, for when I came to her she bowed her head till her black curls fell down over her blushing face, and her bright eyes shone like stars from the dark heaven. Her bashful lips spoke not a word, and I too could say nothing to her. I coughed, and she trembled. She often begged me through her sisters not to climb the rocks so rashly, and not to bathe in the Rhine when I was hot with running or drinking wine. Once I overheard her pious prayer before the Virgin Mary, which she had adorned with gold leaf and illuminated with a lamp, and which stood in a corner at the entrance. I plainly heard her pray to the Mother of God to keep him from climbing, drinking, and bathing. I should certainly have been desperately in love with her if she had been indifferent to me ; and I was indifferent to her, because I knew that she loved me. Madam, to win my love, I must be treated en canaille. Johanna was the cousin of the three sisters, and I was glad to be with her. She knew the most beautiful old legends, and when she pointed with her white hand through the window out to the mountains where all had happened which she narrated, I became enchanted ; the old knights rose visibly from the ruined castles, and hewed away at each other's iron clothes, the Loreley sat again on the moun- tain summit, singing adown her sweet, seductive song, and the Rhine rippled so reasonably soothing and yet so mockingly horrible and the fair Johanna looked at me so strangely, with such enigmatic tenderness, that she seemed herself one with the legend that she told. She was a slender, pale girl, sickly and musing ; her eyes were clear as truth itself; her lips piously arched ; in her face lay a great story. Was it a love legend ? 1 know not, and I never had the courage to ask. When I looked at her long I grew calm and cheerful ; it seemed to me as though it was Sunday in my heart, and the angels held service there. In such happy hours J told her tales of my childhood, 84 GERMAN HUMOUR. and she listened earnestly, and strangely, when I could not think of the names, she remembered them. When I then asked her with wonder how she knew the names, she would answer with a smile that she had learned it of the birds that hail built a nest on the sill of her window ; and she tried to make me believe that these were the same birds which I once bought with my pocket-money from a hard-hearted peasant-boy, and then let fly away. But I believed that she knew everything, because she was so pale, and really soon died. She knew, too, when she would die, and wished that I would leave Adernach the day before. When I bade her farewell she gave me both her hands ; they were white, sweet hands, and pure as the frost ; and she said, " You are very good, and when you are not, think of the little dead Veronica." Did the chattering birds also tell her this name ? Often in hours of remembrance I had wearied my brain in trying to think of that dear name, but could not. And now that I have it again, my earliest infancy shall bloom into memory again, and I am again a child, and play with other children in the Castle Court at Diisseldorf, on the Rhine. Yes, Madam, there was I born, and I am particular in calling attention to the fact, lest after my death seven cities those of Schilda, Krahwinkel, Polkwitz, Bockum, Diilken, Gottingen, and Schoppenstadt 1 should contend for the honour of being my birthplace. Diisseldorf is a town on the Rhine, sixteen thousand people live there, and many hundred thousands besides are buried there ; and among them are many of whom my mother says it were better if they were still alive for example, my grandfather and my uncle, the old Herr von Geldern and the young Herr von Geldern, who were both such celebrated doctors, and saved 1 This was a thrust at Gotlingen, which town Heine here couples with six others, notorious as the local scenes in comic literature. FROM HEINE. 85 the life of so many men, and yet must both die themselves. And pious Ursula, who carried me as a child in her arms, also lies buried there, and a rosebush grows over her grave; she loved rose-perfume so much in her life, and her earth was all rose-perfume and goodness. And the shrewd old Canonicus also lies there buried. Lord, how miserable he looked when I last saw him ! He consisted of nothing but soul and plasters, and yet he studied night and day as though he feared lest the warmth might find a few ideas missing in his head. Little William also lies there and that is my fault. We were schoolmates in the Franciscan cloister, and were one day playing on that side of the build- ing where the Diissel flows between stone walls, and I said, " William, do get the kitten out, which has just fallen in ! " and he cheerfully climbed out on the board which stretched over the brook, and pulled the cat out of the water, but fell in himself, and when they took him out he was cold and dead. The kitten lived to a good old age. The town of Diisseldorf is very beautiful, and if you think of it when in foreign lands, and happen at the same time to have been born there, strange feelings come over the soul. I was born there, and feel as if I must go directly home. And when I say home, I mean the Volkerstrasse, and the house where I was born. This house will be some day very remark- able, and I have sent word to the old lady who owns it that she must not for her life sell it. For the whole house she would now hardly get as much as the present which the green-veiled, distinguished English ladies will give the servant when she shows them the room where I was born, and the hen-house wherein my father generally imprisoned me for stealing grapes, and also the brown door on which my mother taught me to write with chalk. Ah me ! should I ever become a famous author, it has cost my poor mother trouble enough. But my fame still slumbers in the marble quarries of 86 GERMAN HUMOUR. Carrara; the waste-paper laurel with which they have bedecked my brow has not yet spread its perfume through the wide world, and when the green-veiled, distinguished English ladies visit Diisseldorf, they leave the celebrated house unvisited, and go direct to the Market Place, and there gaze on the colossal black equestrian statue which stands in its midst. This represents the Prince-Elector, Jan Wilhelm. He wears black armour and a long hanging wig. When a boy I was told that the artist who made this statue observed with terror while it was being cast that he had not metal enough, and then all the citizens of the town came running with all their silver spoons, and threw them in to fill the mould; and I often stood for hours before the statue puzzling my head as to how many spoons were sticking in it, and how many apple-tarts all that silver would buy. Apple-tarts were then my passion now it is love, truth, freedom, and crab-soup and not far from the statue of the Prince-Elector, at the theatre corner, generally stood a curiously constructed sabre-legged rascal, with a white apron and a basket girt around him full of smoking apple- tarts, which he knew how to praise with an irresistible treble voice. " Apple-tarts ! quite fresh, so delicious ! " Truly, whenever in my later years the Evil One sought to win me, he always cried in such an enticing treble, and I should certainly have never remained twelve hours by the Signora Guilietta if she had not thrilled me with her sweet, fragrant, apple-tart tones. And, in fact, the apple-tarts would never have so enticed me if the crooked Hermann had not covered them up so mysteriously with his white apron ; and it is aprons, you know, which but I wander from the subject. I was speaking of the equestrian statue which has so many silver spoons in its body and no soup, and which represents the Prince-Elector, Jan Wilhelm. He must have been a brave gentleman, very fond of art, and skilful himself. He founded the picture-gallery in FROM HEINE. $7 Diisseldorf, and in the observatory there they show a very artistic piece of woodwork which he himself had carved in his leisure hours, of which latter he had every day four-and- twenty. In those days princes were not the persecuted wretches which they now are ; the crown grew firmly on their heads, and at night they drew their night-caps over it and slept peacefully, and their people slumbered peacefully at their feet ; and when they awoke in the morning they said, " Good morning, father ! " and he replied, " Good morning, dear children ! " But there came a sudden change over all this. One morning when we awoke in Diisseldorf and would say, " Good morning, father," the father had travelled away, and in the whole town there was nothing but dumb sorrow. Everywhere there was a funeral-like expression, and people slipped silently to the market and read the long paper on the door of the Town Hall. It was bad weather, yet the lean tailor Kilian stood in his nankeen jacket, which he generally wore only at home, and his blue woollen stockings hung down so that his little bare legs peeped out in a troubled way, and his thin lips quivered as he murmured the placard. An old invalid soldier from the Palatine read it rather louder, and at some words a clear tear ran down his white, honourable old moustache. I stood near him, crying too, and asked why we were crying. And he replied, " The Prince-Elector has abdicated." And then he read further, and at the words, " for the long manifested fidelity of my subjects," " and hereby release you from allegiance," he wept still more. It is a strange sight to see, when an old man, in faded uniform and scarred veteran's face, suddenly bursts into tears. While we read the Prince-Electoral coat-of-arms was being taken down from the Town Hall, and everything began to appear as anxiously dreary as though we were wait- ing for an eclipse of the sun. The town councillors went 88 C.KKMAN HUMOUR. about at an abdicating, wearisome gait ; even the omnipotent beadle looked as though he had no more commands to give, and stood calmly indifferent, although the crazy Aloysius stood upon one leg and chattered the names of French generals with foolish grimaces, while the tipsy, crooked (iumpertx. rolled around in the gutter singing (a ira! fa ira I But I went home crying and lamenting, " The Prince- Elector has abdicated." My mother might do what she would, I knew what I knew, and went crying to bed, and in the night dreamed that the world had come to an end the fair flower-gardens and green meadows of the world were taken up and rolled away like carpets from the floor; the beadle climbed up on a high ladder and took down the sun, and the tailor Kilian stood by and said to himself, " I must go home and dress myself neatly, for I am dead, and am to be buried this afternoon." And it grew darker and darker a few stars glimmered on high, and even these fell down like yellow leaves in autumn; men gradually vanished, and I, poor child, wandered in anguish around, until before the willow fence of a deserted farmhouse I saw a man digging up the earth with a spade, and near him an ugly, spiteful-looking woman, who held something in her apron like a human head, but it was the moon, and she laid it carefully in the open grave ; and behind me stood the Palatine soldier sobbing and spelling, " The Prince-Elector has abdicated." When I awoke, the sun shone as usual through the window; there was a sound of drums in the street; and as I entered our sitting-room and wished my father, who sat in his white dressing-gown, good morning, I heard the little light-footed barber, as he made up his hair, narrate very minutely that homage would that morning be offered at the Town Hall to the Archduke Joachim. I heard too that the new ruler was of excellent family, that he had married the sister of the Emperor Napoleon, and was really a very FROM HEINE. 89 respectable man ; that he wore his beautiful black hair in curls ; that he would shortly enter the town, and would certainly please all the ladies. Meanwhile the drumming in the streets continued, and I stood before the house-door and looked at the French troops marching those joyous and famous people who swept over the world- singing and playing, the merry, serious faces of the Grenadiers, the bear-skin shakoes, the tri-coloured cockades, the glittering bayonets, the voltigeurs full of vivacity and point d'honneur, and the giant-like, silver-laced tambour major, who cast his baton with the gilded head as high as the first storey, and his eyes to the second, where pretty girls gazed from the windows. I was so glad that soldiers were to be quartered in our house my mother was not glad and I hastened to the Market Place. There everything looked changed; it was as though the world had been new whitewashed. A new coat-of-arms was placed on the Town Hall ; its iron balconies were hung with embroidered velvet drapery, French Grenadiers stood as sentinels, the old town councillors had put on new faces and Sunday coats, and looked at each other French fashion, and said, "Bon jour!" Ladies peeped from every window, inquisitive citizens and soldiers filled the square, and I, with other boys, climbed on the shining Prince-Elector's great bronze horse, and looked down on the motley crowd. Neighbour Peter and Long Conrad nearly broke their necks on this occasion, and that would have been well, for the one afterwards ran away from his parents, enlisted as a soldier, deserted, and was finally shot in Mayence ; while the other, having made geographical researches in strange pockets, became a working member of a public tread-mill institute. But having broken the iron bands which bound him to his fatherland, he passed safely beyond sea, and eventually died in London, in consequence of wearing a much too long cravat, one end of which happened to be QO C.KRMAN HUMOUR. firmly attached to something just as a royal official removed a plank from beneath his feet. Long Conrad told us that there was no school to-day on account of the homage. We had to wait a long time till this was over. At last the balcony of the Council House was filled with gay gentlemen, flags and trumpets ; and our burgomaster, in his celebrated red coat, delivered an ora- tion, which stretched out like india-rubber, or like a night- cap into which one has thrown a stone only that it was not the stone of wisdom and I could distinctly understand many of his phrases ; for instance, that " We are now to be made happy " and at the last words the trumpets and drums sounded, and the flags waved, and the people cried hurrah ! and as I, myself, cried hurrah ! I held fast to the old Prince-Elector. And that was necessary, for I began to grow giddy ; it seemed to me that the people were standing on their heads while the world whizzed round, and the Prince-Elector, with his long wig, nodded and whispered, " Hold fast to me ! " and not till the cannon re-echoed along the wall did I become sobered, and climbed slowly down from the great bronze horse. As I went home I saw crazy Aloysius again dancing on one leg while he chattered the names of French generals, and crooked Gumpertz was rolling in the gutter drunk and growling fa ira, fa ira and I said to my mother that we were all to be made happy, and so there was no school to-day. The next day the world was again all in order, and we had school as before, and things were got by heart as before the Roman kings, chronology the nomina in ////, the rerba irregularia Greek, Hebrew, geography, German, mental arithmetic Lord ! my head is still giddy with it I all must be learnt by heart. And much of it was eventu- ally to my advantage. For had I not learnt the Roman kings by heart it would subsequently have been a matter FROM HEINE. 91 of perfect indifference to me whether Niebuhr had or had not proved that they never really existed. And had I not learnt chronology how could I ever in later years have found out any one in Berlin, where one house is as like another as drops of water, or as grenadiers, and where it is impossible to find a friend unless you have the number of his house in your head. Therefore I associated with every friend some historical event which had happened in a year corresponding to the number of his house, so that the one recalled the other, and some curious point in history always occurred to me whenever I met an acquaintance. For instance, when I met my tailor I at once thought of the battle of Marathon; if I saw the well-dressed banker, Christian Gumpel, I remembered the destruction of Jeru- salem ; if a Portuguese friend, deeply in debt, of the flight of Mahomet ; if the University Judge, a man whose probity is well known, of the death of Haman ; and if Wadzeek, I was at once reminded of Cleopatra. Ach, lieber Himmell the poor creature is dead now ; our tears are dry, and we may say of her with Hamlet, " Take her for all in all ; she was a hag we oft shall look upon her like again ! " As I said, chronology is necessary. I know men who have no- thing in their heads but a few years, yet who knew exactly where to look for the right houses, and are, moreover, regular professors. But oh ! the trouble I had at school with dates ! and it went even worse with arithmetic. I understood subtraction best, and for this I had a very practical rule " Four from three won't go, I must borrow one ; " but I advise every one, in such a case, to borrow a few extra shillings, for one never knows. But as for the Latin, Madam, you can really have no idea how muddled it is. The Romans would never have found time to conquer the world if they had been obliged first to learn Latin. Those happy people knew in their cradles the nouns with an accusative in im. I, on the contrary, had to 92 C.KRMAN HUMOUR. learn them by heart in the sweat of my brow; but still it is well that I knew them. For if, for example, when I publicly disputed in Latin, in the College Hall of Gottingen, on the 2oth of July 1825-- Madam, it was well worth while to hear it if, I say, I had said sinapen instead of sinaftim, the blunder would have been evident to the Freshmen, and an endless shame for me. Vis hurts, sitis, tussis, cuiumis, tiwussis, cannabis, sinapis these words, which have attracted so much attention in the world, effected this, because they belonged to a determined class, and yet were exceptions ; on that account I value them highly, and the fact that I have them ready at my finger's ends when I perhaps need them in a hurry affords me in many dark hours of life much internal tranquillity and consolation. But, Madam, the vcrba irrcgnhiria they are distinguished from the verbis regnlaribits by the fact that in learning them one gets more whippings are terribly difficult. In the damp arches of the Franciscan cloister, near our schoolroom, there hung a large crucified Christ of grey wood, a dismal image, that even yet at times marches through my dreams, and gazes sorrow- fully on me with fixed, bleeding eyes before this image I often stood and prayed, "Oh, thou poor and equally tor- mented God, if it be possible for Thee, see that I get by heart the irregular verbs ! " 1 will say nothing of Greek ; I should irritate myself too much. The monks of the Middle Ages were not so very much in the wrong when they asserted that Greek was an invention of the devil. Lord knows what I suffered through it. It went better with Hebrew, for I always had a great predilection for the Jews, although they to this very hour have crucified my good name ; but I never could get so far in Hebrew as my watch, which had an intimate intercourse with pawnbrokers, and in consequence acquired many Jewish habits for instance, it would not go on Saturday and learned the holy language, and was subsequently occupied FROM HEINE. 93 with its grammar, for often when sleepless in the night I have to my amazement heard it industriously repeating Katal, katalta, katalki ; kittel, kiltalta, kitlalki ; pokat, pokadeti ; pikat, pik, pik. Meanwhile I learned much more German, and that is not such child's-play. For we poor Germans, who have already been sufficiently plagued with soldiers quartered on us, military duties, poll-taxes, and a thousand other exactions, must needs over and above all this torment each other with '' MY SCHOOLFELLOWS FOUGHT WITH ESPECIAL VIGOUR." accusatives and datives. I learned much German from the old Rector Schallmeyer, a brave clerical gentleman, whose protege I was from childhood. Something of the matter I also learned from Professor Schram, a man who had written a book on Eternal Peace, and in whose class my school- fellows fought with especial vigour. And while thus dashing on in a breath, and thinking of everything, I have unexpectedly found myself back among old school stories, and I avail myself of this opportunity to show you, Madam, that it was not my fault if I learned so 94 GKRMAN HUMOUR. little geography that later in life I could not make my way in the world. For in those days the French had deranged all boundaries; every day countries were re-coloured those which were once blue suddenly became green, many even blood-red; the old established rules were so confused and confounded that no devil would recognise them. The products of the country also changed chickory and beets now grew where only hares and hunters running after them were once to be seen ; even the characters of different races changed the Germans became pliant, the French paid compliments no longer, the English ceased making ducks and drakes of their money, and the Venetians were not subtle enough ; there was promotion among princes, old kings obtained new uniforms, new kingdoms were cooked up and sold like hot cakes; many potentates, on the other hand, were chased from house and home, and had to find some new way of earning their bread, while others went at once at a trade, and manufactured, for instance, sealing-wax, or Madam, this sentence must be brought to an end, or I shall be out of breath in short, it is impossible in such times to advance far in geography. I succeeded better in natural history, for there we find fewer changes, and we always have standard engravings of apes, kangaroos, zebras, rhinoceroses, etc. And having many such pictures in my memory, it often happens that at first sight many mortals appear to me like old acquaint- ances. I did well in mythology ; I took real delight in the mob of gods and goddesses who ruled the world in joyous nakedness. I do not believe that there was a schoolboy in ancient Rome who knew the chief articles of his catechism that is, the loves of Venus better than I. To tell the truth, it seems to me that if we must learn all the heathen gods by heart, we might as well have kept them from the first, and we have not perhaps made so much out of our FROM HEINE. 95 new Roman Trinity, or even our Jewish monotheism. Perhaps that mythology was not in reality so immoral as we imagine, and it was, for example, a very decent thought of Homer's to give the much-loved Venus a husband. But I succeeded best of all in the French class of the Abbe* d'Aulnoi, a French emigre, who had written a number of grammars, and wore a red wig, and jumped about very nervously when he recited his Art poetique and his Histoire Allemande. He was the only man in the whole gymnasium who taught German history. Still French has its difficulties, and to learn it there must be much quartering of troops, much drumming in, much apprendre par cceiir^ and above all, no one should be a bete allemande. Thus many bitter words came in. I remember still, as though it happened yesterday, the scrapes I got into through la religion. Six times came the question : " Henri, what is the French for ' the faith ' ? " And six times, ever more tearfully, I replied : " It is called le credit" And at the seventh question, with a deep cherry-red face, my furious examiner cried, " It is called la religion" and there was a rain of blows, and all my schoolfellows laughed. Madam, since that day I can never hear the word religion but my back turns pale with terror, and my cheeks red with shame. And to speak truly, le credit has during my life stood me in better stead than la religion. It occurs to me at this moment that I still owe the landlord of the " Lion," in Bologna, five thalers ; and I pledge you my word of honour that I would give him five thalers more if I could only be certain that I should never again hear that unlucky word la religion. Parbleu, Madam, I have succeeded well in French. I understand not only/a/w, but even aristocratic nurse-maid French. Not long ago, when in noble society, I understood full one-half of the conversation of two German Countesses, each of whom could count at least sixty-four years, and as many ancestors. Yes, in the Cafe Royal, at Berlin, I once f)6 GERMAN HUMOUR. heard Monsieur Hans Michel Martens talking French, and understood every word, though there was no understanding in it. We must know the spirit of a language, and this is best learned l>y drumming. J\iH>lcn ! how much do I not owe to the French drummer who was so long quartered in our house, who looked like a devil, and yet had the heart of an angel, and who drummed so excellently? He was a little nervous figure, with a terrible black moustache, beneath which the red lips turned ^uddenly outwards, while his fiery eyes glanced around. I, a youngster, stuck to him like a cur, and helped him to rub his military buttons like mirrors, and to pipe-clay his vest, for Monsieur Le Grand liked to look well ; and I followed him to the watch, to the roll-call, to the parade. In those times there was nothing but the gleam of weapons and merriment ks jours de fete sont passes ! Monsieur Le Grand knew only a little broken German, only the chief expressions " Bread," " kiss," " honour," but he could make himself very intelligible with his drum. For instance, if I did not know what the word libcrte meant, he drummed the M^arseillaise, and I understood him. If I did not understand the word coalite, he drummed the march, "Ca ira . . . les aristocrats a la /an feme!" and I under- > stood him. If I did not know what betise meant, he drummed the Dessauer March, which we Germans, as Goethe also declares, have drummed in champagne and I understood him. He once wanted to explain to me the word rA/lemagne, and he drummed the all too simple primeval melody, which on market days is played to dancing dogs namely, Dum-dum-dtitn. I was vexed, but I under- stood him. In the same way he taught me modern history. I did not understand the words, it is true; but as he constantly drummed while speaking, I knew what he meant. At bottom this is the best method. The history of the storm- FROM HEINE. 97 ing of the Bastille, of the Tuilleries, and the like, we under- stand first when we know how the drumming was done. In our school compendiums of history we merely read: "Their excellencies the Baron and Count, with the most noble spouses of the aforesaid, were beheaded. Their highnesses the Dukes and Princes, with the most noble spouses of the aforesaid, were beheaded. His Majesty the King, with his most sublime spouse, the Queen, was beheaded." But when you hear the red guillotine march drummed, you understand it correctly for the first time, and you know the how and the why. Madam, that is indeed a wonderful march ! It thrilled through marrow and bone when I first heard it, and I was glad that I forgot it. One forgets so much as one grows older, and a young man has nowadays so much other knowledge to keep in his head whist, Boston, genealogical tables, parliamentary data, dramaturgy, the liturgy, carving and yet notwithstanding all jogging up of my brain, I could not for a long time recall that tremendous tune ! But only think, Madam, not long ago I sat at table with a whole menagerie of counts, princes, princesses, chamberlains, court marshalesses, seneschals, upper court mistresses, court keepers of the royal plate, court hunters' wives, and what- ever else these aristocratic domestics are termed, and their under domestics ran about behind their chairs and shoved full plates before their mouths ; but I, who was passed by and neglected, sat without the least occupation for my jaws, and I kneaded little bread-balls, and drummed for ennui with my fingers, and to my astonishment I suddenly drummed the red, long-forgotten guillotine march ! " And what happened ? " Madam, the good people were not disturbed in their eating, nor did they know that other people, when they have nothing to eat, suddenly begin to drum, and that, too, very queer marches, which people thought long forgotten. 7 98 GERMAN HUMOUR. Is drumming, now, an inborn talent, or was it early developed in me? Enough it lies in my limbs, in my hands, in my feet, and often manifests itself involuntarily. I once sat at Berlin in the lecture-room of the Privy Councillor Schmaltz, a man who had saved the State by his book on the Red and Black Coat Danger. You remember, perhaps, Madam, out of Pausanias, that by the braying of an ass an equally dangerous plot was once discovered; and you also know from Livy, or from Becker's History of the World, that geese once saved the capital; and you must certainly know from Sallust that a loquacious putain, the Lady Livia, brought the terrible conspiracy of Cataline to light. But to return to the mutton aforesaid. I listened to international law in the lecture-room of the Herr Privy Councillor Schmaltz, and it was a sleepy summer afternoon, and I sat on the bench and heard less and less my head had gone to sleep, when all at once I was wakened by the noise of my own feet, which had stayed awake, and had probably observed that the exact opposite of international law and constitutional tendencies was being preached; and my feet, which, with the little eyes of their corns, had seen more of how things go in the world than the Privy Coun- cillor with his Juno eyes these poor dumb feet, incapable of expressing their immeasurable meaning by words, strove to make themselves intelligible by drumming, and they drummed so loudly that I thereby nearly came to grief. Cursed, unreflecting feet ! They once played me a similar trick, when I on a time, in Gottingen, sponged without subscribing on the lectures of Professor Saalfeld; and as, with an angular activity, he jumped about here and there in his pulpit, and heated himself in order to curse the Emperor Napoleon in regular set style, no, my poor feet, I cannot blame you for drumming then ; indeed, I would not have blamed you if in your dumb naivete you had expressed yourselves by still more energetic movements, FROM HEINE. 99 How could I, the scholar of Le Grand, hear the Emperor cursed ? The Emperor, the Emperor, the great Emperor ! The Emperor is dead. On a waste island in the Atlantic Ocean is his grave; and he for whom the world was too narrow lies quietly under a little hillock, where five weeping willows hang their green heads, and a little brook, murmur- ing sorrowfully, ripples by. There is no inscription on his tomb; but Clio, with a just pen, has written thereon invisible words, which will resound, like spirit tones, through thousands of years. Britannia ! the sea is thine. But the sea has not water enough to wash away the shame with which the death of that mighty one has covered thee. Not thy windy Sir Hudson no, thou thyself wert the Sicilian bravo with whom perjured kings bargained that they might revenge on the man of the people what he had once inflicted on one of themselves. And he was thy guest, and had seated himself by thy hearth. Strange ! A terrible destiny has already overtaken the three greatest enemies of the Emperor. Londonderry has cut his throat, Louis XVIII. has rotted away on his throne, and Professor Saalfeld is still professor in Gottingen. Heinrich Heine. 100 GERMAN HUMOUR. VERSES FROM HEINE. T T makes a man happy, no doubt, But it maketh him weary, i'fegs, To have three lovely women about him, And only a couple of legs. With one I must walk of a morning; At eve with another I rove; And a third comes at noontide, and drags me Right out of my quarters, by Jove ! Farewell, irresistible sirens ! I have but two legs of my own ; Henceforth in some rural seclusion I'll worship Dame Nature alone. THESE fine ladies, understanding Honour must to poets be, Bade me to a lordly luncheon My great Genius and me. There was soup, ah ! it was stunning; There was wine no lip would spurn; There was poultry, simply godlike, There was hare cooked to a turn. They talked I remember of poets, And when I could eat no more, I rose, and acknowledged the honour, And bowed till I reached the door. VERSES FROM HEINE. IOI FRANKLY, this young man I honour, He exhibits graces rare. Often he has stood me oysters, Also Rhine-wine and liqueurs. And his clothes exactly fit him, And his tie proclaims the swell; And he turns up every morning, And he hopes I'm pretty well, Talks about my reputation, And my wit, and grace of style; And he'd do, if I would let him, Oh, a thousand things the while ! And at nights, in rooms surrounded By the fairest of the fair, He declaims my ' Heavenly ' poems With a soft abstracted air. Truly, is not this refreshing ? Such young men as him I praise Are not common ; they are growing Rare and rarer nowadays. A YOUNG man loves a maiden Who other hopes has fed, And her love loves another love, And to his choice is wed. The maiden marries straightway The handiest man to be had, And this is simple cussedness, And her young man is mad. 102 C.KRMAN HUMOUR. It is an ancient drama, But any time 'twill fit Don't play " first gentleman " unless You want your heart to split. LAID on thy snow-white shoulder My head is at rest; And I listen and know the unquiet Desire of thy breast. The gorgeous hussars have stormed it, And entered without strife ! And, to-morrow, a woman will leave me That I love as my life. What tho' in the morning she leave me, To-night she is mine My head is at rest on her shoulder, And her snow-white arms entwine. Translated by Ernest Radjord. VERSES FROM HEINE. 103 " BUT THOU WENT'ST ON WITH EVEN-STEPPING FEET," THOU wert a blonde-hair'd maid without a stain, So neat, so prim, so cool ! I stay'd in vain To see thy bosom's guarded gates unroll, And Inspiration breathe upon thy soul. A zeal and ardour for those lofty themes, By chilly Reason scorn'd for airy dreams, But wringing from the noble and the good The toil of hand and heart, and brain and blood. 1O.J GKKMAN HUMOUR. On hills with vineyards' clambering leafage gay, (Jlass'd in the Rhine we roamed one summer day ; Bright was the sun, and from the shining cup Of every flower a giddy scent flew up. A kiss of fire, a deep voluptuous blush, Hurn'd on each pink and every rosy bush, Ideal flames in dandelions glow'd And lit each sorriest weed that edged our road. But thou went'st on with even-stepping feet, Clad in white satin, elegant and neat ; No child of Netcher's brush more trim and nice, And in thy stays a little heart of ice. Translated by Richard Garnctt. ABOUT MONEY. IO5 ABOUT MONEY. HTHE world is divided into two kinds of human beings * those that have money and those that have none. But the latter are not human beings at all they are either devils, viz., poor devils ; or angels, viz., angels of patience and renunciation. Without money, without teeth, and without a wife we come into this world; and without money, without teeth, and without a wife we go out of this world. What then have we accomplished in the world? We have made money, cut teeth, and taken unto ourselves wives ! A glorious destiny ! There are fevers, pains, convulsions, and sufferings of all kinds attendant upon the getting of teeth and wives, and when one has them they hurt the whole year round, and often the best one can do is to have them extracted. Teeth and wives come to you without your doing, and unless most carefully treated they are liable to decay. But money does not come without your doing, and often a man leaves this world without having had money. It would be interesting to hear the reply of such a person when asked on the other side, " What did you do in 'the world ? " Who has money ? The rich people ! That is a misfortune ! If the poor people only had money then we should see what poor devils these rich fellows are ! It is no art to be rich when one has much money, and it is no merit to be poor when one has none. What is money ? Money is a goodly lump which the Lord God attaches to insignificant people, so as not to lose sight of them in his creation, as a good housekeeper puts a big label on a little key. What is money ? Money is a figure which gains in importance as there is a cipher attached to it. 106 GERMAN HUMOUR. What is money? Money is a metal heel under the boots of little people to make them appear as tall as others. What is money? Money is an indemnity which God gives to a certain number of persons on condition that they will not make bold to acquire any such goods as Intellect or Genius. What is money? Money is the accent grave upon a letter which would else be silent. What is money? Money is the mysterious essence of a being which defines its ego in the following words : " If I were not what I have, I should not have what I am." But what is no money ? No money ? No money ? No money is a thing of which all empty pockets are full. No money is the alibi of a being which should testify to our presence in this world. No money is a disease aggravated by the continuous obstruction of Fortune. No money is a gentle invitation of nature to incur debts, and a peremptory command not to pay them. No money is an irresistible inclination to melancholy on the part of our purse caused by hopeless love to an unattainable object. No money is an ^.vposition of no money at all, a /reposi- tion in abstract philosophy, a fit position for a minister of finance, and a happy ^position for platonic love. No money is a vulgar ballad which common people sing aloud on the streets, but the more refined only hum between their lips within doors. No money is the watchword of extreme radicalism and the art of making oneself popular at a low price. Alas, what is man without money ? A twice-told anecdote, a song without a tune, a lost poodle-dog without an honest finder, last year's calendar, etc., etc. Without money no prince can reign, no minister can A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. IO? minister, no general can make war, no painter can paint, no farmer can till the field; only the bards and poets sing and make verses without money; the poet is true to his muse even though he has no money; indeed he muses more than ever how to get some. M. G. Saphir( 1 795-1 858). A NIGHT IN THE BREMER RATHSKELLER. T T struck ten o'clock as I descended the broad steps of the Rathskeller. There was a reasonable hope of finding it empty, for a storm was howling without, the weather-cocks were making strange music, and the rain splashed upon the pavement. But the kellerdiener gave me a questioning look when I told him my desire. "What, so late, and to-night of all nights?" he exclaimed. " It's never too late for me before twelve," I answered ; " and after that it is early enough in the day." " Are you expecting company ? " asked the man. " I am alone." ''You might have some unasked," he added, looking about timorously at the shadows his lamp cast. " What do you mean ? " I asked in surprise. " Oh, I was only thinking," answered he, lighting a couple of candles and setting a large beaker before me. "There are all sorts of odd rumours about the ist of September. Indeed I can't do it, sir ! Not to-day, sir ! " I took this to be one of those common tricks wherewith custodians, wardens, and the like work upon a stranger's purse, so I placed a generous coin in his hand, and took him by the arm to make him come with me. " No, that was not my intention, sir," he said, trying to give it back to me. " I'll tell you frankly what my meaning 108 (,10k MAN HUMOUR. was there's nothing in the world would induce me to enter the Apostles' a-llar this night, for it's the ist of September." " Well, and what of that ? " " In God's name, then, you may think what you please, hut it isn't as it should be there to-night, and that's because it is the anniversary day of the Rose" 1 I laughed till the walls rang again. " Well, I have heard many a ghost-story in my life, but never one about a wine- ghost. Aren't you ashamed to talk such nonsense, you with your white hair? But I have the permission of the Senate ; I may drink in this cellar to-night, wherever I please, and as long as I please. Therefore, in the name of the Senate, I bid you follow me. Unlock the cellar of Bacchus." This had the desired effect; unwillingly, but not venturing to remonstrate, he took the candles and beckoned to me. First we traversed one roomy vault, then a smaller one, until we reached a long narrow passage. Our steps rever- berated with a hollow sound, and our breath striking against the wall produced what seemed like distant whispering. At last we stood before a door, the keys rattled, with a moan it came yawning open, the light of the candles fell into the cellar, and opposite to me sat Friend Bacchus upon a mighty cask. Refreshing sight ! They had not pictured him with delicate grace, those old Bremen artists, not daintily as a Grecian youth ; they had not represented him old and drunk, with a disgusting belly, leering eyes, and protruding tongue, as the vulgarised myth profanely portrays him now and then. Outrageous anthropomorphism ; blind folly of man ! Because some of his priests, grown old in his worship, walk about thus; because their belly swells with satisfaction, their nose takes colour from the burning 1 The name of a gigantic cask of wine of 1624, one of the special sights of the Bremen Rathskeller. It is tapped only on great occasions, and in 1870 the town of Bremen sent a number of bottles of this wine to the F.mperor William and Prince Bismarck at Versailles, as a valuable gift of honour. El). A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. 109 reflection of the dark-red flood, their eyes turn up in silent bliss these things must needs be attributed to the god, while they but adorn his worshippers. Otherwise did the men of Bremen. How blithely and cheerily does the old boy ride his cask ! The round bloom- ing face, the merry little wine-enraptured eyes looking down so knowingly, the broad smiling mouth that has tasted of many a bumper, the short powerful neck, the whole little figure teeming with health and good humour ! Is one not tempted to expect that in a gay mood, wine-inspired, he will bend his little round knees, press his calves up close, and stem his heels against the old mother-cask, setting her off at a brisk canter, in which all the Roses, Apostles, and common casks will join with a wild " halloo " through the cellar ? " Lord of Heaven ! " cried the custodian, clinging tightly to my arm ; " don't you see him roll his eyes and swing his legs ? " " Old fellow, you are crazy ! " said I, casting a timid look at the wooden god ; " it is the light of the candles flickering about him." At the same time a queer feeling came over me as I followed the old man out of the Bacchus-cellar. Was it really the light of the candles, was it an illusion what I saw ? Did he not nod to me with his little round pate, did he not put out one of his chubby legs and shake and writhe with secret laughter ? I ran after the old man and walked close behind him. " Now to the twelve Apostles," I said to him. He did not reply ; shaking his head dubiously he walked on. There were two or three steps to ascend from the large cellar into a small one, into the subterranean heavens, the seat of the blessed, where abide the twelve Apostles. What are ye, vaults and sepulchres of royal families, beside these cata- combs ! Place coffin by coffin, laud upon black marble the merits of the man who sleeps below, employ a garrulous I 10 GliRMAN HUMOUR. keeper in garments of mourning, let him praise the unspeak- able greatness of this dust or of that, let him relate the mar- vellous virtues of a prince who fell at such and such a battle, the exquisite beauty of a princess upon whose sarcophagus the virgin's myrtle twines with the bursting rosebud it will remind you of mortality, it may cost you a tear ; but can it touch you like this bed-chamber of a century, this resting- place of a glorious race ? There they lie in their dark- brown coffins devoid of ornament and frippery. No marble boasts of their silent merits, their inconspicuous virtue, their excellent character ; but what man with a heart for virtue of this sort does not feel himself stirred when the old custodian, this keeper of the catacombs, this sexton of the subterranean church, places his candles upon the coffins and lets the light fall upon the illustrious names of the great dead ! Like royal heads, these too have no long title and surname ; in noble simplicity their names appear upon the brown coffins. There is Andrew, here John, in yonder corner Judas, in this Peter. Who is not touched when he is then told that there lies the noble one of Nierenstein, born 1718 ; here he of Riidesheim, born 1726. To the right Paul, to the left James, the good James ! " Good-night, ye old lords of the Rhine ; good-night. And if there is anything I can do for you, fiery Judas, or you, gentle Andrew, or you, dear John, come, come to me." " Lord of Heaven ! " the old man interrupted me, slam- ming the door and turning the key. " Are you intoxicated already by the few drops you had, that you should thus tempt the devil ? Don't you know that the wine-spirits arise this night, and visit each other, as they always do on the ist of September ? And should I lose my place thereby, I shall run off and leave you if you speak such words again. It is not yet twelve o'clock, but at any moment one of them might come creeping out of his cask and frighten us to death with a hideous grimace." A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. Ill " Stop your foolish prattle, old fellow, and be comforted. I will not say another word to wake your wine-spirits. But now take me to the Rose." We walked on; we entered a vault, the rose-garden of Bremen. There she lay, old Rose, bulky, tremendous, with an air of commanding sovereignty. What an enormous cask! and every bumper worth its weight in gold! 1615! Where are the hands that planted thee? Where are the eyes that revelled in thy bloom. Where are the happy folks that exulted when thou, noble grape, wert cut upon the heights of the Rhinelands, when thou wert pulled and thy golden flood burst into the tub ? They are gone, like the waves of the river that bathed the foot of thy vineyard. " There, and now good-night, Frau Rose ! " said the old servant pleasantly. " Now, good-night, and God bless you ; here, this way, sir, not around that corner ; this is the way out of the cellar. Here, come, do not run against those casks ; I will hold the candle." " No, indeed, old chap," I said ; " the joke is only just beginning. All this was but a foretaste. Bring me two or three bottles of your choicest of '22 in the large room yonder." He stood there with eyes wide open, the poor fool. " Sir," he said solemnly, " put it out of your mind. I will not stay with you for love or money." " Who told you to stay with me ? Put the wine where I tell you, and, in God's name, go along with you." " But I cannot leave you alone in the cellar," he replied. " I know, begging your pardon, that you wouldn't steal any- thing, but it is against my orders." "Well, then, lock the door behind me; put a padlock on, as ponderous as you please, and to-morrow morning at six come and wake me and get your fee." He tried to remonstrate, but it was in vain. At last he put down three bottles and nine candles before me, wiped 112 GERMAN HUMOUR. 1 TWO MEN WITH CEREMONIOUS POLITKXESS URGING PRFCFPENCE UPON F.AC" OTHKR." A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. 113 out the beaker, and bade me good-night with a heavy heart as it seemed. He locked the door, and out of tender solicitude for me, as it would seem, more than for the safety of his cellar, hung on a padlock. Just then the clock struck twelve. I heard him mutter a prayer and hasten away. The sound of his steps died away in the vault, and when he shut the outside door of the cellar it reverberated like a peal of thunder through the passages. So I am alone with thee, my soul, far down in the womb of the earth. Up on the earth they are all asleep and adream, and down here, round about, they slumber in their coffins, the spirits of wine. Do they dream, I wonder, of their short childhood, of the distant hills where they were bred, and of their old father Rhine who murmured a gentle ditty by their cradle ? Hark ! Was not that the sound of a door ? Certainly very queer ; if I were not alone down here, if I did not know that men can only walk the earth above, I should be tempted to think that there are steps resounding through the vaults. Ha! here they come, there is something fumbling at the door; it shakes the latch, but the door is locked and bolted ; this night no mortal will disturb me. Ha ! What - is that ? The door opens. Holy horrors ! Outside the door stood two men with ceremonious politeness urging the precedence upon each other. The one was tall and lean, adorned with a great black wig, a dark-red coat, trimmed with gilt cording and gilt-spun buttons; his legs, of abnormal length and thinness, were attired in knee-breeches of black velvet with gold buckles. His sword, with a heft of porcelain, he had stuck through his trousers-pocket ; when bowing he waved a little three- cornered silk hat, while the flowing locks of his wig brushed his shoulders. The man had a pale, sorrowful face, deep- 114 GERMAN HUMOUR. set eyes, and a large nose of fiery red. Quite different was tin- smaller fellow, who had been specially obsequious in urging the other to pass him at the door. His hair was pasted to his head with the white of an egg, and on either side it was fastened securely in two rolls like the holsters of a pistol ; a long pig-tail hung down his back ; he wore a little coat of grey faced with red; his lower parts were adorned with large jack-boots, his upper with a richly- embroidered vest of state, which fell over his well-rounded little belly down to his knees ; and he was buckled about with an enormous sword. There was an expression of exceeding good-nature in his fleshy face, especially in his little eyes that stood out like those of a lobster. His gestures were carried out with an enormous felt hat turned up boldly on either side. They hung their hats upon the wall, unbuckled their swords, and sat down silently by the table without looking at me. I was about to take heart and address them, when there was a new sound outside. Steps approached, the door was opened, and four other gentlemen, attired in the same old fashion, entered. " God greet ye, Lords of the Rhine ! " said the tall one of the red coat in a deep bass voice, getting up and bowing. " God greet ye," squeaked the little one ; " it's a Ipng time since last we saw you, James ! " " Hallo and good morning, Matthew," replied one of the new-comers ; " and good morning to you too, Judas ! Hut what is this ? Where are our bumpers, our pipes and tobacco? Has the old knave not yet waked out of his sinner's sleep ? " "The lazy-bones!" cried the little one. "The heavy- eyed rascal ! He is still lying over yonder in the graveyard ; but, thunder and lightning, I'll wake him up ! " With that he seized a large bell that was standing upon the table, ringing it and laughing in a shrill, cutting voice. A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. 11$ As is the case with genuine old drinkers, so among these guests the conversation would not flow without wine. Just then a new personage appeared at the door. It was a little old man, with shaking legs and grey hair ; his head looked like a skull over which a thin hide has been drawn, and his eyes shone dimly out of deep hollows ; he was tugging at a large basket, and greeted the guests humbly. " Ah, here's our old kellermeister, Balthasar," called out the guests ; " come on, old fellow, put down the beakers and bring our pipes ! Why did you tarry so long ? It struck twelve long ago." The old man gaped once or twice rather indecently, and on the whole looked like a person who has overslept. " Came near sleeping through the ist of September," he grunted ; " ever since they have paved the churchyard, I don't hear as well as I did. Where are the other gentlemen ? " he proceeded, taking beakers of strange shape and marvel- lous size out of the basket, and putting them on the table. " Where are the others ? You are only six, and old Rose hasn't come yet." " Put the bottles down first," exclaimed Judas, " that we may get a drop of something to drink, and then go over yonder they are still asleep in their casks; tap them. with your dry bones and tell them to get up." But hardly had Judas ended, when there was a rush and boisterous laughter at the door. " Spinster Rose, her health, hurrah, and her sweetheart Bacchus ! " The door flew open, the ghostly fellows at the table jumped up and cried : " It is she, it is she, Spinster Rose and Bacchus and the others ! Hurrah ! Now we're in for a jolly good time ! " and with that they touched beakers with a ringing sound and laughed, and the fat one struck his belly, and the pale kellermeister threw his cap skilfully between his legs and up to the ceiling, and joined in with the shouts of the others till my ears rang again. What a sight ! The Il6 GERMAN HUMOUR. wooden Hacchus, tliat I had but just seen astride the cask in the cellar, had got down, naked as he was ; with his broad, smiling face, with his twinkling eyes, he greeted the group and came walking skittishly into the room ; by his hand he led with much ceremony as his betrothed an elderly dame of great height and of goodly roundness. I do not know to this day how it was possible, but then and there it was clear as daylight to me that this dame was no other than old Rose, the enormous cask in the Rose-cellar. And how gorgeously had she got herself up, the old lady from the Rhine ! In her youth she must have been a comely lass, for even now, although the fresh colours of girlhood had left her cheeks, although time had painted some little wrinkles about her brow and her mouth, two centuries could not efface the noble features of her fine face. Her eyebrows had turned grey, and a couple of un- seemly grey hairs had sprouted upon her pointed chin, but the hair brushed smoothly over her forehead was brown as nuts, and only intermingled here and there with a little silvery grey. Upon her head she wore a black velvet cap, fitting closely above her ears ; then she had on a jerkin of finest black cloth, and the bodice of red velvet showing beneath was fastened with silver hooks and chains. About her throat she wore a broad necklace of glittering garnets, fastened to which was a gold medal ; an ample skirt of brown cloth fell about her portly figure, and a little white apron trimmed with white lace added a coquettish touch. On one side there was a large pocket of leather, on the other a bunch of tremendous keys in short, she was as respect- able-looking a dame as ever walked across the street of. Cologne or Mayence in 1618. And behind Dame Rose came six shouting fellows, swing- ing their three-cornered hats, with their wigs on awry, attired in broad-tailed coats and long embroidered vests. With ceremonious courtesy did Bacchus lead his lady to A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. 117 the head of the table, accompanied by the jubilations of his companions. She bowed with becoming gravity, and sat down. At her side the wooden Bacchus took a seat, after Balthasar, the kellermeister, had put a big cushion under him, for he had else seemed pitifully small and low. The others also sat down, and then I saw that they were the twelve Apostles from the Rhine, who at other times lie sleeping in the Apostles' cellar in Bremen. " So here we are, altogether once more, we young people of 1 7 oo, "said Peter, after the tumult had somewhat sub- sided. " Your health, Dame Rose ! You don't look a day older ; you're as comely and stately as you were fifty years ago. Your health, and your sweetheart's, Bacchus." " My humble thanks to you, esteemed Apostle," answered Dame Rose, bowing her appreciation. " Are you as much of a tease as ever ? I don't know of no sweetheart, and you mustn't say such things to put out a modest lass ! " She cast down her eyes as she said it, and emptied a tremendous bumper. " Love," said Bacchus, looking tenderly out of his little eyes, and taking her hand ; " Love, don't put on airs. You know that my heart has inclined to you for two thousand autumns, and that I love you to-day be- fore all others ; a fiery kiss upon thy rosy lips shall prove it." He leaned tenderly towards her. " If only all the young folks were not about," she whispered shame- facedly. But Under " HE TOOK HIS TRIBUTE WITH INTEREST." the shouts and laughter of the twelve the wine-god took his tribute with interest. Il8 CKRMAN HUMOUR. " Vou are a rogue," he cried, laughing. " You are a Turk, and make love to many at the same time. Do you suppose I don't know how you pay court to the frivolous Frenchwoman, the Lady of Bordeaux, and to the chalky pale-face of Champagne? Go away; you have a bad character, and are not made for faithful German love." "The devil, you carry your jealousy too far," he cried snappishly. "I can't break off all of my old connections." "What is this I see?" said Dame Rose. "You are thirteen at table. Who is that over there in strange garments ? Who brought him here ? " Heavens, how I started ! They all looked at me with surprise, and did not seem at all pleased at my intrusion. But I took heart, and said : " Your humble servant, gentle- men. I am nothing further than a mortal, graduated to a Doctor of Philosophy." " But how dare you come here at this hour, mortal ? " said Peter very solemnly, shooting lightnings out of his eyes at me. " Your Excellency," I replied, " there is good reason for that I am an enamoured friend of noble drink, and by the kindness of your right worthy Senate I have received per- mission to pay my respects to the twelve Apostles and to Dame Rose." " And so you like to drink Rhine-wine?" said Bacchus. "Well, that is one good quality, and is the more to be praised at a time when mortals have grown more or less cold toward this golden fountain. I believe the race feels that it is no longer worthy of a noble drop, so they brew some slip-slop stuff of syrup and whisky, call it Chateau- Margaux, Sillery, St. Julien, and all sorts of pompous names, and when they drink it they get red rings about their mouth because the stuff is coloured, and headache the next day because they have had vile gin." A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. I 19 "Ah, it was a different life we led," continued John, "when our blood was young in the years '19 and '26. Nay, as late as '50 there were high times within these noble vaults. Every evening, no matter whether the sun would shine in spring or whether it would rain and snow in winter, every evening these apartments were filled with happy guests. Here, where we are sitting now, sat in state and dignity the Senate of Bremen, splendid wigs upon their heads, weapons at their side, courage in their heart, and a bumper before each." "Yes, yes, children," said old Rose; "it used to be quite different from now say fifty, or one hundred, or two hundred years ago. Then they brought their wives and daughters with them to the cellar, and the handsome Bremen lasses drank Rhine-wine, or of our neighbours' from the Moselle, and were noted far and near for their blooming cheeks, their crimson lips, and for their lovely, sparkling eyes ; now they drink miserable stuff, tea and the like, which grows far away where the Chinamen live, I am told, and which in my day women drank when they had a little cough or other trouble. Rhine-wine, genuine honest Rhine-wine, doesn't agree with them nowadays; for the land's sake you wouldn't believe it! They put sweet Spanish wine with it to make it taste better; they say it's too sour." The Apostles burst into a perfect roar of laughter, which I joined involuntarily, and Bacchus laughed so horribly that old Balthasar had to hold him. " Ah, the good old times ! " cried fat Bartholomew. " Our burghers used to drink two measures, and it seemed as if they had drunk water, so sober were they ; but now one goblet throws them down. They are out of practice." There was a terrible bang that made the vault ring again, the door flew open, and upon the threshold stood a tall white figure. With measured, ringing steps, a ponderous I 20 GERMAN HUMOUR. sword within his hand, in armour but without a helmet, did this gigantic individual strut into the room. He was of stone, his face was set and without expression. Nevertheless, his stony lips parted and he said " God greet ye, beloved vines from the Rhine. I needs must come and visit my fair neighbour on her anniversary- day. God greet you, Dame Rose. May I sit down to your carousal?" They all turned in surprise upon the giant statue. Spinster Rose broke the silence, clapped her hands together with joy, and exclaimed " Goodness me ! It's stony Roland, who has stood for many centuries upon the market-place of our dear Bremen town. Oh, it is kind of you to do me the honour, sir knight ; lay down your shield and sword and make yourself comfortable ; won't you sit here by my side ? Gracious me, how pleased I am ! " The Apostles had moved up closer and made room for their guest on a chair by the ancient maiden. He laid his shield and sword in a corner and sat down rather awkwardly upon the little chair; but alas ! this had been made for respectable mortals but not for a stony giant ; with a crash it broke under him, and he lay full length upon the floor. " Base generation, which fabricates such stools upon which in my day no delicate maiden could have sat with- out breaking through the seat ! " grumbled the hero, slowly getting up. The kellermeister rolled a cask up to the table, and invited the knight to be seated. A couple of staves cracked as he sat down, but the cask stood the test. " How tastes the wine to you ? " Bacchus asked the new-comer. "It must be long since last you drank any." "It is good, by my sword ! Very good ! What growth is it ? " "Red Ingelheimer, august sir!" answered the keller- meister. A NIGHT IN THE RATHSKELLER. 121 The stony eye of the knight took life and fire when he heard this ; his chiselled features were softened by a smile, and contentedly he looked into his cup. " Ingelheim ! Thou sweet, familiar name ! " he said. " Thou noble castle of my knightly emperor ; so thy name has outlasted the centuries, and the vines that Charlemagne planted in his Ingelheim still blossom ? Does this new world know aught of Roland and of great Carolus, his master ? " " That you must ask the mortal over yonder," replied Judas ; " we have nothing to do with the earth. He is a doctor and magister, and must be able to give an account of his generation." The giant fixed his eyes inquiringly upon me, and I replied: "Noble Paladin! Humanity has grown cold and depraved; its shallow skull is nailed to the present, and looks neither forward nor backward ; but we are not yet so bad that we should forget the glorious heroes that once walked our earth, and threw their shadows into our times." The spirit of song seemed to have come over the com- pany, for no sooner had Andrew ended than Judas began to sing unasked, and the others followed him. With a resounding bass voice Roland sang a war-hymn of the old Franconians, only a few words of which I understood, and at last, when they had all sung, they looked at me, and Rose nodded encouragingly. So I began " Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsere Reben Da wachst ein deutscher Wein." When I had finished, they all came crowding about me to shake my hand, and Andrew breathed a kiss upon my lips. "Do they sing that?" cried Bacchus. "Now then, Doctor, I'm mighty glad to hear that; your race cannot be so very frail if it sings such clear and cheery songs." 122 GKUMAN HUMOUR. " Ah, sir," I said sadly, " there are many sentimentalists who refuse to give such a song the credit of being poetry, like some pietists who consider the Lord's prayer not mystic enough for devotion." " There have been fools at all times, sir ! " replied Peter. " But talking about your generation, tell us what has happened on earth during the last year ? " "If it would interest the ladies and gentlemen," I replied. " Go ahead," cried Roland, and the others joining him, I began " As regards German literature " "Hold on, manum de tabula!" cried Paul. "What do we care about your miserable scribbling, about your puerile, disgusting quarrels, about your poetasters and false prophets and I was dumfounded. If our wonderful, magnificent literature had no interest for these people, what could I tell them ? I thought a while, and then continued : " It is evident that Joco, so far as the theatre is concerned " Theatre ? Go away with you ! " interrupted Andrew. " Why should we hear about your puppet-shows and other follies ? Do you suppose it is aught to us if one of your comedy-writers is hissed ? Have you nothing interesting no great historical facts to tell us about ? " " Alack-a-day," I cried, " we are quite out of historical facts; in that line there is nothing but the Bundestag at Frankfurt.'' The dance the two were performing was according to the mode of two or three centuries ago. Dame Rose had seized her petticoats in both hands, and spread them out so that she looked like an immense cask. She walked trip- pingly back and forth, bobbing up and down in a succession of curtseys. Much greater vivacity did her partner dis- A NlGHt IN THE RATHSKELLER. 1 2$ play, who whirled about her like a top, leaping boldly, snapping his fingers, and shouting ho ! and hallo ! Odd enough did he look, what with the dainty apron of Mistress Rose, which Balthasar had tied around him, fluttering about in the air ; how his little legs jerked, and his round face smiled for heartfelt pleasure and delight ! At last he was tired ; he beckoned to Judas and Paul and whispered something to them. They untied his apron, took it by both ends, and pulled and pulled, until suddenly it grew as large as a sheet. " Ah," thought I, " now they will most likely play a joke on old Balthasar. If only the vault were not so low as it is ; I fear me he'll break his skull." Then came Judas and Bartholomew and caught hold of me ; Balthasar smiled maliciously ; I trembled, I resisted, all to no purpose. My senses threatened to leave me as with shouting and laughter they laid me upon the cloth. " Not too high, my honoured patrons," I cried in great trepidation ; but they laughed and shouted the louder. Now they began to rock the sheet, Balthasar blowing a tune on a tunnel. Now it began to go up and down, first 3, 4, or 5 feet, then suddenly they gave a jerk, I flew up, and the ceiling opened like a cloud ; up, up higher I flew through the roof of the rathhaus, higher than the steeple of the church. " Well,'" I thought, " it's up with me now ! When I fall, I shall break my neck. Farewell, my life and my love ! " I had now reached the highest point of my ascent, and I fell as rapidly. Crash ! Right through the roof of the rathhaus, down through the ceiling of the cellar ; but I did not fall upon the sheet once more. I lighted on a chair with which I fell over backward upon the floor. For some time I lay stunned by the fall. A pain in my head and the coolness of the ground woke me at last. At first I could not think whether I had fallen out of bed at home, or what was the matter. At last I remembered, that 124 GERMAN HUMOUR. 1 had fallen down from some very high region. With some anxiety I examined my limbs ; nothing was broken, only my head pained me from the fall. I was in a cellar, the day- light shone in dimly, the light of a candle was dying out upon the table, there were bottles and glasses about, before every chair a little bottle with a long label about its neck. Ah, now I remembered everything. I was in Bremen, in the rathskeller; I had come in here last night, had been locked in, and then . Full of horror I looked about me. I ventured to cast shy glances into the corners of the room ; it was empty. Or was it possible I could have dreamed it all? Thoughtfully I walked around the table ; the little sample- bottles stood where my strange guests had sat. First Rose, then Judas, James, and John. " No, a dream cannot be so like reality," I said to myself. "All this that I heard and saw did actually occur ! " But there was no time for further reflections. I heard keys rattle in the lock, it was slowly opened, and the old rathsdiener entered saying : " It has just struck six." Wilhelm Hauff (1802-1827). THE DUEL WITH THE DEVIL. 125 THE DUEL WITH THE DEVIL. jV/f EANWHILE something occurred which I 1 must not ^ -* pass over, as it may serve as a commentary to the customs of this peculiar nation. I had been for some time an ardent visitor at the anatomy-rooms, for I was anxious to make the acquaintance of medical students. It happened one day that I was busying myself about a corpse with several friends, dissecting the organs of the mind, the brain, and heart in order to deduce the absurdity of the belief in immortality. Suddenly I heard a voice behind me, "The devil, how stifling ! " I quickly turned and saw a young student of theology, who had already excited my wrath in a dogmatic lecture by the ardour and gusto with which he had taken notes of the ridiculous conjectures of the professor on the nature of the diabolical. Hearing him make this remark, which at that moment, and from him, I took as referring wholly to myself, I told him pretty strongly that I objected to such personal and insinuating expressions. According to the ancient sacred law called "Comment," this was an insult which could only be obliterated with blood. The theologian, a famous bravo, sent me his challenge the next day. This was just such a lark as I had been hoping for. Whoever cared for the good opinion of his fellow- students was expected to have a duel on record, although all of my friends admitted the custom to be utterly irrational and unnatural. I had prevailed upon my opponent to have the affair come off at a public resort, a couple of miles out- side the town, and both parties put in an appearance at the designated place and time. 1 The Devil is the speaker. 126 GERMAN HUMOUR. Solemnly each arrival was conducted into a room, where his coat was removed and replaced by the " paukwichs," a sort of armour in which the duel was to be fought. This "paukwirhs," or armour, consisted in a hat with a broad brim sufficiently pro- 's. tecting the face ; an enormously broad band- age made of leather, wadded and decorated with the colours of the society, to be strapped over the abdomen ; an immense cravat stand- ing stiffly about the neck, and affording protection to the chin, throat, part of the shoulders, and the upper portion of the chest. The arms were covered from the hands to the elbows with gloves made of old silk stockings. It must be confessed a figure in this unique armour looked funny enough. However, there was great safety in it, for only a part of the face, the upper half of the "A FIGURE IN TH IS L'NIQOF ARMOUR." Q f chest were at the mercy of the opponent's rapier. A strong impulse to laugh came over me as I examined myself in the mirror. " The devil, in such attire, and about to enter the lists on behalf of the odour in the anatomy-room ! " THE DUEL" WITH THE DEVIL. I2/ My companions took my hilarity as an expression of courage and valour. Thinking, therefore, the right moment had now come, they conducted me into a large hall where the position of the enemy had been marked on the floor with chalk. A freshman considered it a high honour to be permitted to carry my rapier, as sword and sceptre were carried before the ancient emperors. It was a well-made weapon of finest steel, with a large hilt offering at the same time a protection for the hand. At last we stood facing each other. The student of theology put on a fierce expression and looked upon me with an air of disdain, which strengthened me in my purpose of setting a right handsome mark upon him. We put ourselves into the traditional posture, the blades were crossed, the seconds yelled " Ready ! " and our rapiers whizzed through the air, and fell clinking upon the hilts. I confined myself to parrying the really masterly and artistic cuts of my opponent. I knew that my glory would be the greater if I merely defended myself at first and then gave him his deserts in the fourth or fifth round. Applause followed each pass. Never had there been such bold and decisive attacks, never such dignified and cold- blooded self-defence. My skill in fencing was lifted up into the seventh heaven by old hands, and there was much curiosity and conjecture as to my tactics of retaliation. No one dared urge me to the onset. Four rounds had passed without one thrust that had drawn blood. Before stepping forth for the fifth, I pointed out to my comrades the spot on my theologian's right cheek where I intended to hit him. He seemed to get wind of my purpose, put himself under cover as much as possible, and carefully abstained from venturing an attack on his part. I began with a superb feint, which was received with an admiring " Ah ! " made a couple of regular thrusts, and with a clap my rapier was in his cheek. 128 GERMAN HUMOUR. The honest theologian was very much taken aback. My second and witness rushed up to him with a tape-measure, examined the wound, and said in a solemn voice, " It is more than an inch, and it gaps horribly, so ' Abfuhr ! ' ' Which is as much as to say, the poor boy having a hole in his face an inch long, his honour has been vindicated. Now my friends crowded about me; the elder grasped my hands, the younger gazed with veneration upon the weapon with which the deed, surpassing anything in history, had been done. For who could boast of first having designated the spot he intended to hit, and then hitting it with such marvellous precision ? With a serious mien my opponent's second stepped up to me, and in the name of the former offered me amity. I approached the invalid, whose wound was just being attended to with needle and thread, and made friends. " I am greatly indebted to you," he said, " for having marked me thus. I have been forced to study theology against my will. My father is a country parson, my mother is a pious lady, who would like above all things to see her son in a surplice. But your decisive stroke has altered matters; with a scar reaching from my ear to my mouth there is no church that would have me." 1 The companions of the brave theologian looked upon him sympathisingly. Who could measure his sad regrets at the thought of the old parson's grief, the pious mamma's despair, when the news of this disaster should reach them ? But to me it seemed like a great piece of good luck for the youth to be given back to the world by so short an operation. I asked him to what studies he would now devote himself, and he frankly confessed that the calling of a cuirassier 1 Even at the present day persons conspicuously marked in a student's fray are not allowed to enter the theological profession, unless there is a fair prospect that the scar may l>e hidden under a prospective beard. THE DUEL WITH THE DEVIL. or of an actor had always seemed chiefly attractive to him. I felt like embracing him for this happy thought, for it is in these very professions that I have most of my friends and adherents. I advised him urgently to follow the bend of nature, and promised to supply him with the best recom- mendations to distinguished generals and to the most notable stages. As for all the persons in any way connected with this remarkable duel, I gave them an excellent dinner, in which of course I included my opponent and his followers. I then privately paid the debts of the quondam theologian, and when he had recovered I supplied him with money and letters, which opened a right jolly and brilliant career to him. Neither the elegant conclusion of the duel nor my unobtrusive charity remained a secret. I was now looked upon as a being of a higher order, and I know many a young lady who shed tears over my generous sentiments. The students of medicine sent a deputation presenting me with a superb rapier, because, as they thought, I had fought on behalf of the faultless odour of their anatomy-room. Wilhelm Banff. 1 30 GERMAN HUMOUR. EDITORIAL CO-OPERATION. "AS our paper must needs be very universal," I said, ^*- " and as there should be something in the title to express this tendency, how would it do to call it ' Literary Provender ' ? " " That would not be bad ; there might be a vignette re- presenting the public as a bevy of fowls clustering about the Muse, who is cutting up food for them; but it will not do. Some might take offence at Provender ; it might seem as if only the leavings from the great dinner-table of literature were to be served to the public. It won't do ! " "Well, then, 'Evening-Bells.'" "'Evening-Bells?' Ah, indeed. That is an idea! There is something so soft and soothing about the word. I'll make a note of the suggestion. But we should have to have a critical supplement. I have been thinking we might call it ' The Distiller.' " " It is very expressive," I replied ; " it is quite customary in these times to subject books to a chemical process of review or criticism ; the distillation is carried on until the spirit sought for has evaporated, or until the learned chemist can announce to the world what all the different elements were that combined in the decoction he analysed. But with such a name the paper might appear to smell of the gin-shop. How would it strike you to call it ' The Critical Chimney-Sweep ' ? " The publisher gazed at me in silence for a moment, and then embraced me with emotion. " An idea," he cried ; "a remarkable idea ! What a volume of meaning there is in the word ! German literature is the chimney, our reviewers are the sweepers : they scrape down the literary soot, to preserve the house from fire. It must be an extremely EDITORIAL CO-OPERATION. 13! radical paper ; it must be striking, that is the first thing. ' The Critical Chimney-Sweep ! ' And we will bring the art critiques under the promising title, ' The Artistic Night- Watch.' " Hastily putting down the names, he continued : " Sir, my guardian-angel has brought you to my door ; when I sit by my table writing my mind seems blocked up, but 1 have often noticed that when I once begin to speak, my thoughts flow like a stream. So when you were speaking of Walter Scott and his influence a glorious idea arose within me. I will make a German Walter Scott." " How so ? Are you too going to write a novel ? " " I ? Dear me, no ; I have something better to do ; and one 1 no, twenty ! If I only had my thoughts all ordered. I am going to procure a great Unknown, and this mysterious personage is to consist of a party of novel-writers ; do you understand ? " "It is not quite clear to me, I confess. How will you ?" " There is nothing that cannot be accomplished with money ; I shall address myself to, say, six or eight clever men who have already made their mark in writing novels, invite them here, and offer the proposal that they should join to produce this Walter Scott. They choose the historical subjects and characters, discuss the secondary figures to be introduced, and then " Ah, now I understand your glorious plan ; then you will erect a factory like the one at Scheeran. You will send for cuts of all the most romantic scenery in Germany ; the costumes of old times can be procured at Berlin ; legends and songs can be found in the Boys' Wonderhorn, and other collections. You engage two or three dozen of aspir- ing young men ; your sexavirat, the great Unknown, gives the general plot of the novels, here and there he models and corrects an important character; the twenty-four or thirty- 132 GERMAN HUMOUR. six others write the dialogue, picture towns, scenes, buildings, after nature " And," he interrupted me gleefully, " as the one has more talent for the delineation of scenery, the other for costumes, the third for conversation, the fourth or fifth for comedy, others for the tragic " Ah, I see ; so the young poets will be divided into painters of scenery, tailors of costume, leaders of conversa- tion, comedians, and tragedians, and the novel passes through the hands of each, like the pictures at Campe's in Nuremberg, where one draws the sky, the other the earth, this one roofs, and that one soldiers, where one paints green, the other blue, the third red, the fourth yellow." " And in this way harmony and uniformity would be reached, just as they are in Walter Scott, where all characters have a striking family resemblance. And we'll have a pocket-edition as cheap as possible ; we can count on forty thousand." " And the title shall be : * The History of Germany, from Hermann the Cheruskian to 1830, in one hundred historical novels ! ' " Herr Salzer shed tears of emotion. Having recovered, he seized my hand. " Well, am I not as enterprising as anybody?" he said. "Think of the talk it will make. But to you, most excellent friend, I am indebted for aid in bringing forth this giant thought. Pick out the hand- somest book in my shop, and in token of my gratitude I name you to be one of the twenty-four ! " Wilhelm Hauff. MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. " HE PUT THE ORANGE ON THE TABLE BEFORE HIM." MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. TTwas in the autumn of the year 1787 that Mozart, accompanied by his wife, undertook the journey to Prague to supervise the performance si Don Juan. " The waggon drawn by three horses," writes the Baroness von T. to her friend, " a stately chaise of reddish yellow, was the property of a certain old Frau Generalin Volkstett, 134 GERMAN HUMOUR. who was fond of setting her relations to the Mozart family, and the kindnesses she bestowed upon the same in the right light" This hasty description of the vehicle in question can easily be enlarged upon by any connoisseur of the taste of those days. The reddish-yellow chaise was decorated on each side with bouquets of flowers in their natural colours ; the edges of the doors bore narrow gilt mouldings ; the whole could not by any means boast the glassy varnish of to-day's Vienna mode ; the body was not fully rounded, though drawn in below with a bold, coquettish curve ; then there was a high top with stiff leather curtains, which, for the time being, were pushed back. Regarding the attire of the two passengers there is this to be said. With wise economy Frau Constanze had packed her spouse's new and splendid garments of state and chosen modest ones for the occasion ; with an embroidered vest of somewhat faded blue there was his common brown coat with a row of large buttons, so fashioned that there was a layer of reddish gold-leaf glimmering through a starry surface, black silk trousers and stockings, and gilt buckles on his shoes. For the last half-hour he has abandoned his coat on account of the unusual heat, and sits gaily talking bare-headed, and in shirt -sleeves. Madam Mozart wears a comfortable travelling-dress, light green and white striped ; a wealth of light-brown curls, but loosely fastened, fall over her neck and shoulders ; as long as she lived they were never disfigured by powder; her husband's thick cue was also more scantily supplied than usual owing to the ceremonial freedom of travel. The horses had just walked slowly up a gently sloping hill between ripe fields that interrupted the long stretches of woodland here and there, and now they had reached the edge of the woods. MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 135 " Through how many miles of woods have we passed to-day and yesterday and the day before," said Mozart, " and thought nothing of it, it never so much as occurring to me to set my foot within them. Let us get down now, darling mine, and get some of those dainty blue-bells over there in the shade. Your poor beasts, postillion, will be glad of a rest." As they both arose a little mishap came to light, which brought upon the Meister something of a scolding. Through his carelessness a flask of fragrant essence had come open, and had poured its contents unobserved over their garments and over the cushioned interior of the chaise. "I might have known it," lamented Frau Constanze; "there was such a sweet odour all the time ! Alack-a-day, a whole flask of pure Rosee d'aurore quite empty ! I was so chary of it." "Ah, little miser," he comforted her, "take thought, and consider that thus, and thus only, could your divine smelling-whisky do us any good. At first we sat as in an oven, for all your fanning, and then suddenly there was a cool and refreshing atmosphere. You attributed it to the drop or two I poured on my jabot ; we were revived, ' and conversation was once more animated and gay, whereas before our heads had hung low like those of sheep on the butcher's cart ; and- this benefit will stay with us for all the rest of the way. But now let us put our Vienna noses into the green wilderness here." Arm-in-arm they scrambled through the trench by the side of the road and entered the dusky shade of the fir- trees. The spicy freshness, the sudden change from the sunny glow without, might have proved disastrous to the reckless man but for the prudence of his companion. She had some trouble in urging his discarded garment upon him. " Ah, the glory of it," he cried, gazing up the tall trunks ; " it is like being in church ! Seems to me I never was in the woods before, and it is only now that I can see what C HUM AN HUMOUR. ARM-IV-ARM TIIKV KNTF.RED THE IH'SKV SHADE OF THE FIK-TKEES." MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 137 this means, this assembly of trees ! No man's hands planted them, they all came of themselves, and stand so only just because it is jolly to live and labour together. Fancy, when 1 was young I passed this way and that through Europe ; I saw the Alps and the ocean, the most beautiful and most sublime things that were ever created ; and now here stands the fool in an ordinary forest of firs on the boundary-line of Bohemia, astonished and enraptured that such things should be, that it's not just unafinzione di poeti, like the nymphs and fauns and all that, and no stage-forest ; no, it's a genuine one, grown out of the earth, nourished by its moisture and by the warm light of the sun." "To hear you talk," said his wife, "one would think you had never gone twenty steps into our Vienna Prater, which surely can boast of similar wonders and rarities." "The Prater '? Thunder and lightning ! How dare you name the word here ! What with their carriages, and state uniforms, and toilets and fans, and music, and all horrors under the sun, there's nothing to be seen beyond. And even the trees, though they are big enough to be sure, I don't know how it is beech-nuts and acorns lying on the ground can't for the life of them help looking like brothers and sisters to the hosts of worn-out corks among them. For miles it smells of waiters and sauces." "Was there ever such ingratitude !" cried she ; "and all this from a man who is deaf to all other delights when he can dine on baked chickens at the Prater ! " When they were both seated in the chaise once more, and the road, after running through a flat stretch, began to fall again to where a laughing landscape unfolded, losing itself in the distant hill-lands, the Meister began again after a span of silence: "This world is truly beautiful, and no one is to be blamed for wishing to stay here as long as possible. Thank God, I feel as strong and hale as ever, and there are a thousand things I should like to be up to as soon as ever 138 GERMAN HUMOUR. my new opus is done and on the stage. How much there is out in the world and how much there is at home, things remarkable and things beautiful, that I do not even know of, wonder-works of nature, science, art, and useful trades ! The black collier-boy yonder knows just about as much as I do about some things, by my soul. I should like for the life of me to take a look into this, that, and the other thing, that doesn't come within the narrow limits of my trade." " The other day," she answered, " I came across an old pocket calendar of yours ; it was of '85 ; there are three or four memoranda in it. One of them, under-scored, is : Professor Gat/ner, to visit him. Who is he ? " " Yes, yes, I know the kind old gentleman at the obser- vatory, who has invited me there from time to time. I have always wished you and I could take a look at the moon and the man in it. They have a tremendous telescope up there now; they say it seems as if you could touch the mountains and valleys and rifts, and on the side where the sun doesn't shine the shadows that the mountains cast. It's two years now that I've wanted to see it, and I don't manage to get around to it, ridiculous and shameful though it seems! " " Ah, well," said she, " the moon won't run away. There are many things we'll make up for later. I have a presenti- ment." "Out with it!" " I heard a little bird twitter that ere long the King of Prussia would need a Caf>el/meisfer" " Oho ! " "General Musical Director, I would say. Let me spin a dream ! It is a weakness I have from my mother." " Go ahead ! the wilder the better ! " " No, quite natural. First then take the time, a year from date '' When the 1'ope marries Kate MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 139 " Hush, you clown ! I say a year from to-day there must be no such person as an Imperial composer named Wolf Mozart to be found within the walls of Vienna.'' " Thank you kindly for that ! " "I hear our old friends talking about us and our fortunes." " Give us an example." " Well, say one morning, shortly after nine, our exubriant old neighbour, Frau Volkstett, strutting straight across the cabbage market. She had been absent for three months ; her great journey to visit her brother-in-law her constant theme since we knew her had at last become a reality; and now she has come back, and her full heart bubbling over with the joy of travel and the impatience of friendship, and all sorts of delightful news draws her irresistibly to the Frau Oberst. Upstairs she goes, taps at the door, and, without waiting to be bidden, walks in; you can imagine the delight and the embracements from both sides ! 'Now, dearest, best Frau Oberst,' she begins, after some preliminaries, taking a fresh breath, ' I bring you a bagful of messages ! Can you guess from whom ? ' ' What ? is it possible did you pass through Berlin ? Did you see the Mozarts ? Ah, dear, sweet friend, relieve my impatience ! How are our good friends? Do they like it as well as they did at first ? ' ' Yes, indeed ! This summer the king sent him to Karlsbad. When would his beloved majesty, Emperor Joseph, have thought of doing such a thing ? They had both but just come back when I was there. He is beaming with health and life, is growing stout and roundish, and is as lively as Mercury.' " And now the little woman proceeded to elaborate every- thing in her assumed role in the most glowing colours. Of their home Unter den Linden, of their garden and country- house, of the brilliant effectiveness of his appearance in public, and of the exclusive little gatherings at court, where he accompanied the queen's song on the piano, her descrip- I4O C.KRMAN HUMOUR. tion taking life as she went on. Entire conversations, the most charming anecdotes, she seemed to shake out of her sleeve. At the same time she was roguish enough to supply the person of our hero with a number of brand-new homely virtues, which had sprouted out of the solid ground of Prussian existence, and among which the said Frau Yolkstett had noted as the highest phenomenon and proof of the marvellous potence of new surroundings the wee begin- nings of a most praiseworthy little trait of parsimony, which proved a most graceful acquisition. " Yes, and only think, he has three thousand thalers secure, and all that for what ? For leading a concert once a week and the opera twice. Ah, I saw him, our dear, little precious Mozart, in the midst of his kapcllc. I sat with his wife in her box right across from their majesties. And what did the handbill say ? Here it is ; I brought it for you, I wrapped it about a little present I brought you from myself and the Mo/arts ; here it is in plain letters ! " Heaven help us ! Tarar ! Ah, dear friend! To think that I should live to see it ! Two years ago, when Mo/art was writing his Don Juan, and that confounded villainous Salieri was also making preparations to repeat the triumph his piece brought him in Paris upon his own territory, and when he and his boon-companions thought they had plucked the Don Juan as they had Figaro, leaving it neither dead nor alive to put it upon the stage, don't you remember, I then and there took a vow not to go and see the infamous piece-, and I kept my word. When everybody rushed to the show you too, dear I 1 ' ran Obcrst I sat down quietly by my stove and took my cat upon my lap to spend the evening. lUit now, think of it ! 'J'arar o\\ the lierlin stage, the work of his bitterest enemy, directed by Mo/art ! ' You must come,' he said to me, ' though it were only to tell them in Vienna that I do not hurt a hair of his head. I wish he were here himself, the envious knave, to see that there is no MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 141 need for me to murder another fellow's thing to remain what I am ! '" " Brava l bravissima ! " exclaimed Mozart with roaring delight. He took his little wife by the ears, kissing and tick- ling her, until this bright soap-bubble game of a dreamy future which, alas ! never approximated this happy culmi- nation ended in mirth and boisterous laughter. Meanwhile they had reached the valley, and were approaching a village which they had noticed from the hill- top, and behind which a pleasant country-house in modern style, the residence of the Count von Schinzberg, became visible. It was their intention to rest and dine in the place. The inn where they stopped was quite at the end of the village, and close beside it a by-road planted with a row of poplars led to the garden of the Count. Mozart left the ordering of dinner to his wife, merely signifying his intention of having a glass of wine in the common room below, while she asked for a drink of water and for a quiet spot in which to enjoy a peaceful hour's sleep. She was shown up a flight of stairs, her husband following, humming and whistling a tune as he went. In a newly whitewashed room, just aired, there was, among other old- fashioned furniture of noble origin, which had, no doubt, wandered hither out of the possessions of the Count, a neat, airy bed, with a painted canopy resting on slender green posts, the silk curtains of which had long ago been replaced by some more common fabric. Constanze exacted a promise from her husband to be waked in time, and bolted the door behind him, he seeking amusement in the common tap-room. There was not a soul there, however, except the host; and, finding the conversation of the latter as little to his taste as the wine, he thought to fill out the time before dinner with a walk to the Count's park. He was told that respectable strangers were allowed to enter, and, moreover, the family had gone out for a drive. 142 GERMAN HUMOUR. He went, and ere long he had reached the open gate, and was walking slowly along under the stately limes until he had the schloss in view. It was built in the Italian style, light in colour, with a generous flight of steps lying broadly to the front ; the slate roof was decorated with statues in the usual manner, gods and goddesses, and a balustrade. Turning away from the parterres of blooming flowers, the Meister bent his steps toward the shrubbery, passing groups of beautiful pines, and gradually approaching sunnier spots once more, attracted by the merry sound of a splashing fountain which he soon reached. The large oval basin was set round with orange trees in tubs, intermingled with laurels and oleanders ; there was a small arbour at one side, and a soft path of sand led around to it. The arbour seemed a most attractive spot for a rest ; there was a seat and small table in it, and Mozart sat down near the entrance. Inclining his ear indolently to the gentle plash of the water, his eyes resting upon an orange tree of medium size standing apart from the others close by his side and covered with exquisite fruit, our friend, under the influence of these reminiscences of the South, fell to musing on a graceful episode of his boyish travels. Smiling thoughtfully, he put out his hand to touch the fruit and feel its delicious juicy coolness in his hollow hand. In connection with the youthful scene arising before him there was a half- forgotten musical memory the uncertain trail of which he was dreamily following. Now his eyes begin to shine, they wander restlessly here and there ; a thought had seized him, and he is eagerly following it. Absent- mindedly he takes hold of the orange once more ; it breaks from the branch, and lie holds it in his hand. He does not see it ; so far is he absorbed in his artistic preoccupation that he turns and twirls the fragrant fruit MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 143 under his nose, moving his lips inaudibly to some newly- caught melody. At last, without knowing what he does, he takes a small enamelled case out of a pocket of his coat, pulls out a silver-handled knife, and slowly cuts the golden ball in two. Perhaps he was led by a vague feeling of thirst, but the delicious fragrance seemed to satisfy his stimulated senses. For moments he gazed fixedly at the two inner surfaces, then gently put them together, very gently separated, and joined them once more. . Suddenly he heard steps approaching; he started, and the consciousness of where he was and of what he had done dawned upon him. He was about to hide the orange, but desisted immediately, impelled by pride or by the knowledge that it was too late. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a livery, the Count's gardener, stood before him. He had evidently seen the last suspicious motion, and looked at him dubiously. Mozart was silent also, and felt as if he were nailed to his seat; he glanced up with a half-laugh and a visible blush, but at the same time there was a look of undaunted frankness in his large blue eyes ; then with a petulant air of courageous audacity, which would have been absurdly funny to an unconcerned looker-on, he put the orange, apparently uninjured, in the middle of the table before him. "Begging your pardon," said the gardener, now repressing his indignation, after having inspected the unpromising garb of the stranger, "I do not know with whom I have the honour " Kapellmeister Mozart from Vienna." " Doubtless you are an acquaintance of the Count ? " " 1 am a stranger here, passing through the village merely. Is the Count at home ? " " No." "The Countess?" " Is occupied, and it is unlikely she will see any one." 144 GERMAN HUMOUR. Mo/art arose and seemed about to go. " I beg your pardon, sir, by what right did you help yourself in this garden ? " "What?" cried Mozart; "help myself? The devil! do you believe I wanted to steal and eat that thing here ? " "Sir, I believe what 1 see. These fruits are counted, and I am responsible. This tree is designed by the Count to figure at an entertainment ; just now it was to be carried away. I cannot let you go before having made mention of this affair, and before you explain how this happened." " Well, then, I will wait here. You may depend upon it." The gardener looked around doubtfully, and Mozart, thinking he might be manoeuvring for a fee, put his hand in his pocket, but there was not a coin in it. Two lads came up now, lifted the tree upon a barrow, and carried it away. Meanwhile our Meister had pulled out his note-book, and while the gardener did not leave his side, he wrote " GNADIGSTE FRAU, Here I sit, a poor unfortunate, in your paradise, like Adam after having tasted the apple. The evil is done, and I cannot even seek refuge by throwing the guilt upon the shoulders of gentle Eve, for the latter is sleeping the sleep of innocence at the inn guarded by the Graces and Cupids of a four-post bed. You have but to command, and I will personally give your Grace an account of my incomprehensible offence. In sincere contrition, your most obedient servant, " W. A. MOZART (on the way to Prague)." While this was passing in the schloss, our prisoner, not greatly concerned about the final result, had occupied him- self witli waiting. But as no one appeared, he began to walk up and clown uneasily ; then there came an urgent message from the inn to tell him dinner was ready, and would he MOZART'S JOURNEY TO PRAGUE. 145 please come at once, the postillion was anxious to get started. He picked up his things, and was about to leave without further ceremony, when the two gentlemen appeared before the arbour. The Count greeted him as he would an old acquaintance, with a ringing, sonorous voice, did not listen to his apologies, but at once expressed his desire to have the couple for his guests. " You are, my dear maistro, no stranger to us ; indeed I may say that the name of Mozart is heard nowhere more frequently and with greater fervour. My niece plays and sings, spends nearly the whole day at her piano, knows your works by heart, and has the greatest desire to approach you personally, as she could not do in your concerts last winter. As we are going to Vienna for a few weeks, her relatives had promised her an invitation from Prince Gallizin, where you are often to be found. But it seems you are going to Prague, and there is no knowing when you will come back. Rest with us for a day or two ! We will send your carriage back, and you will have the kindness to permit me to see to the continuation of your journey." The composer, who was always willing to bring friendship or pleasure any sacrifice ten times as great as was here demanded, gladly complied for this half-day, at the same time setting his departure most definitely for the next morn- ing. Count Max asked to be permitted to escort Frau Mozart from the inn, and to give the necessary orders there. . . . Edward Morike (1804-1875). 10 146 GERMAN IIUMOUK. A RA1UD PHILOSOPHER. A T last I fell asleep, but it was only to be awakened at ** dawn by resounding footsteps passing to and fro in the adjoining room, intermingled with sounds from which I judged that there was an impatient searching of drawers or tables, and in every corner of the apartment. The hurrying and rummaging grew more violent, a soliloquy which at first softly accompanied the movements grew louder and louder, and gradually passed into exclamations of rage, and at last into a volley of oaths, which was not exactly in a Christian spirit, and which was accompanied by a savage stamping and bellowing. It seemed to me the man had gone mad. I dressed myself hastily, knocked at the door, and in my excitement, forgetting all form, I entered the room without awaiting his call. With flashing eyes the occupant darted at me as if about to seize me by my throat ; suddenly he controlled himself, stood stock-still before me, gave me a penetrating glance, and said with quiet severity, " Sir, an unconscious thirst for knowledge has brought you to this room." My conscience reproaching me for my breach of good manners, I was disarmed, and merely said " Yes," in a dejected tone. I then asked him what for heaven's sake was the matter with him. A. E. for brevity's sake I will henceforth call my fellow-traveller so falling back into his fit of violence, cried in a voice of thunder, " My spectacles, my spectacles ! They've seen fit to go and hide themselves to say nothing at present of the key, the little devil ! " " So you are merely looking for your spectacles ? Is this an object worthy of such rage? Don't you know what it is to be patient ? " He was about to fly at me again, but, controlling himself A RABID PHILOSOPHER. 147 once more, he merely looked at me and said : " Screw- drivers ? cork-screws ? " " What do you mean by that ? " " I dreamed I had a wife horrible to relate. I laughed at her for reading papers without cutting the leaves, and for putting up for years with a drawer that would not go. Thereupon she gave me a sermon on patience, and required me to exercise myself in that virtue by wearing screws and screw-drivers on my coat instead of buttons and button- holes, suggesting that they might be quite ornamental if made out of oxidised metal ; or she said I might have corks, which I would be obliged to remove by means of a cork- screw every time I wished to unbutton my coat. Ah, pshaw ! a woman is quite capable of putting a cover upon a dressing-case in such a manner that it will catch every time the upper drawer is opened and shut. Sir, a woman has time for the struggle with the villain called matter ; she lives in this struggle, it is her element ; a man has no business to have time for this, he needs his patience for things that are worthy of patience. It is an imposition to expect him to waste either for what is worthless, an imposi- tion against which he may, can, and must rage ! You must know that. You must know that these unworthy objects, these hooks and crooks of matter, never get entangled with your destiny except when you are in most desperate haste to complete something which is necessary and reasonable ! Miserable gimcrack, worthless button or ball of twine, or string to my eye-glasses that gets twisted about one of the buttons of my vest just at the very moment when it is necessary to look over a time-table in small type at the railway station, I have no time, no time for ye ! And if I were to set a thousand leeches on eternity, they would not draw out a single moment of time for ye!" " But what is the use of all this bluster ? " 148 C.KKMAN HUMOUR. " Oil, insipid ! Was it of no use to Luther if you are going to talk about use to rail at the devil? Don't you know what it is to disburden your poor soul ? Have you never heard of the precious balm that lies in a good round oath ? '' "l TOOK THE EXASPERATED MAN AND POINTED SILENTLY TO THE SPOT." The evil spirit took possession of him anew; he rushed about the room in another paroxysm of rage pouring out a volley of abuse upon his poor innocent spectacles. Mean- A RABID PHILOSOPHER. 149 while I looked about the floor; I picked up a couple of shirts that were clean, but terribly messed, and my eyes fell upon a mouse-hole in the boards. It seemed to me I saw something glitter there ; I looked closer, and the discovery was made. I took the exasperated man by his arm and pointed silently to the spot. He gazed at it, recognised his missing glasses, and remarked : " Look at them well ! Do you notice the sneer, the demoniac triumph in that evil glassy leer ? Out with the entrapped monster ! " It was not easy to pull the spectacles out of the hole ; the trouble was really out of proportion to the value of the object. At last we succeeded ; he held them out at arm's- length, dropped them from there, cried in a solemn voice, " Sentence of death ! Supplicium ! " raised his foot, and crushed them with his heel, shivering them to bits. "That's all very well," I said, after a pause of astonish- ment ; " but now you have no spectacles." " No matter. At any rate this imp has met with a just retribution after years of indescribable malignity. Look you ! " He pulled out his watch ; it was a very common one in fact, one of the lowest products of the horological industry. " In place of this honest, faithful creature," he continued, " I once had a gold repeater, which, I may truly say, cost a deal of money. It requited this sacrifice for years and years with untold malice; it never would go right; it made a point of falling down and hiding ; the crystals broke constantly, thereby nearly reducing me to pauperism; at last the monster conspired with the hook of my gold watch-chain, and the two together entered into an intrigue against me. As for the hook, sir, there is much that might be said on that subject. The insidiousness of objects in general I should like to talk to you about that, sir, but I fear I should discourse at some length the insidiousness, I say, is expressed so visibly in the villainous physiognomy of hooks that one cannot be too much on one's guard in having any- 150 GERMAN HUMOUR. thing to do with these fiendish features. One is apt to think: ' I know you, the wicked crookedness of your outer form betrays you, you shall not get the better of me ;' and then this very sense of security misleads one into being unwary. It is quite the reverse with other objects. Who, for instance, would suspect a simple button of any evil design?" I begged him to finish the tragic story about his watch and hook. " Ah, yes ! Well, one night the hook crept softly across the small table, upon which I had carefully laid my watch, and artfully entwined itself into the seam of my pillow-case. I did not want the pillow. I lifted it suddenly and flung it to the foot-end of the bed, the watch of course going with it. In a noble arch it went flying through the air, struck the wall, and fell to the ground with a broken crystal. This was the last straw. I crushed it in cold blood like these criminal spectacles ; the imp gave forth a sound, a hiss like a per- secuted mouse; I swear to you that it was a sound quite outside the realm of physical nature. I then went and bought this modest timepiece for an absurdly low sum. Look at this faithful creature; note the expression of honesty in these homely features ; for twenty years it has served me with steadfast fidelity ; yes, I may say it has never given me any cause for complaint. The gold watch-chain I gave to my footman, the hook was condemned to die a shameful death in the sewer, and I wear my faithful turnip on this gentle silken cord." During this detailed account he had grown quite tranquil, and now placidly continued "Now for the story of this black hour ! Look at this key" he pulled out a small key, probably belonging to his valise " and then at this candlestick ! " he held up the metal candlestick upside down close before my eyes, so that I could see a hollow place in the foot "what do you think, what do you suppose, what do you say ? " A RABID PHILOSOPHER. 151 " How am I to know ? ' " For the spare of a good half hour I have looked for that key this morning. I nearly lost my senses; at last I found it, like this, do you sec ? " He laid the key upon the little stand by his bed, and set the candlestick down upon it; the key just fitted the place under the foot. "Now tell me who would suspect this, who would be capable of such superhuman circumspection as to foresee and avoid such infernal tricks on the part of the object ! And is this what I live for ? Am I to waste the precious bit of time I have in such a slavish search for a bagatelle ? To search and search, and to search again ! One should never say A. or B. has lived for such and such a time, not lived, but searched ! And I am very, very punctual, believe me !" "Ah, yes, life is a perpetual search," I said, with a sigh which might be taken to refer to the trials of life, while in truth it was called forth by the ennui which this detailed occupation with the bagatelle had caused. This accounted for my flat remark, the sole object of which was to change the subject at all hazards. I little knew to whom I was talking. " What, sir, symbolic?" he said. "And I suppose you think that is deeper ! Ah, oh ! " "Well, what now?" " You see, my dear sir, to search in a symbolical sense, to think that all of life is but a searching, that is not what I complain of, that is not what you should sigh about. The ethical goes without saying. An honest fellow will search and yearn and never complain, but be happy in the midst of this misery of an ever-rising and never-terminating line. That is our upper storey. But what we have to take along with it, the vexation and bother we must put up with in the lower storey of life, that is what I am talking of. There, 152 C.KKMAN HUMOUR. for instance, is the necessity of searching, which makes you mad, nervous, insane. And, what is more, it strands you in Atheism. The dear God sitting on high and counting the hairs on our head, who sees me searching for my spectacles for hours at a time, he sees the spectacles too, knows just where they are, can you bear it, the thought of how he must laugh ? A kind, omnipotent Being ! Do you think such a one would permit the curse of colds in your head? Alas, we are born to search, to undo knots, to sneeze and cough and spit ! Man, with a proud world within his arched brows, with his beaming eyes, his spirit dipping into the depth and breadth of infinitude, with his soul rising on silver wings into the heavens, with his imagination pouring streams of golden fire over hill and vale and transforming the image of mortality to God, with his will, the flashing sword within his hand to adjust, to judge, to conquer, with pious patience to plant, to cherish, and watch over the tree of life that it may grow and flourish and bear heavenly fruit of noble culture, Man with the angelic image of the divine and beautiful within his long- ing, yearning bosom, yes, this same Man, changed to a mollusc, his throat a grating-iron, a nest of devils, tickling the larynx with finest needles for nights and nights, his eyes dim, his brain heavy, dull, perturbed, his nerves poisoned, and, with all that, not considered ill ; and you say that God ! " Here our denier of the existence of God was seized with so deplorable a fit of sneezing and coughing that I repressed a remark I had upon my tongue. Upon entering I noticed that he cast an uneasy glance all about the floor of the dining-hall; he seemed much relieved when in one corner he noticed a small object which may be of service to coughing persons. In a tone of supreme content he remarked, "This room is really very well furnished;" A RABIU 1'IIILOSOPIIER. 153 and from that time he seemed to be in tolerably good humour. As is common at the Swiss hotels, breakfast had been placed upon the table awaiting whoever should come to partake of it, and A. E., having pushed the butter and honey aside with some violence, helped himself freely. We were alone in the room, but soon another tourist entered. He was a middle-aged man, attired in a duster of unbleached linen, with a short cape hanging over his shoulders, and carrying a knapsack of some weight on his back. There were drops of perspiration visible upon his brow; it appeared evident that he had walked for some hours that morning. He laid down his burden, put his bulky umbrella in a corner, sat down at the other end of the table, pulled his chair up, took out his glasses, carefully looked at everything that had been set upon the table, seemed to quite approve of the completeness of things that go to make up an English breakfast, and then, with all the appearance of a soul conscious that the body belonging thereto had severely earned its breakfast, began the enjoyable task of cutting and spreading some slices of bread. It was easy to see that the man belonged to the class of scholars, and his pale com- plexion led me to judge that he was one of those tourists who strive to make up by pedestrian exertions for the harm they have done their bodies throughout the year by sedentary habits. A. E., who had meanwhile appeased his appetite, seemed to be in no special haste to depart. He lit a cigar, and said to me, "You admit, then, that physics is at bottom synonymous with metaphysics, the science of the spiritual. That is, I take for granted that you admit it, although I have not yet proved it to you philosophically, for you have surely recognised the universal insidiousness, ay, animosity of matter, what physical science has heretofore insipidly named the law of gravity, statics, etc., while it is in truth to be explained merely as demoniacal possession." 154 GERMAN HUMOUR. Meanwhile the stranger had split a long roll lengthwise with dexterity and precision, and was occupied in spreading on the butter with great regard to perfect smoothness and evenness; he made a moment's pause at the last words, casting a peculiar glance from under his bushy eye- brows over to our end of the table, and then thoughtfully continued his plastic occupation, wagging his head now and then with an expression of ironical surprise. The thought came to me that A. E. had designs upon the stranger. But I concluded that it was not the case. He had given him but a cursory glance as he entered, though it was a glance which might be supposed to grasp the personality before him, for his eye was wont to seize what it looked upon as if there were a strong hand within it; at the same time there was no sign of his paying any attention to the unknown. " Friend," he continued, " have you noticed how a piece of falling paper will mock us? Are they not graceful, the sneering motions with which it flutters back and forth ? Does not every turn tell you with elegant, voluptuous non- chalance that you are beaten ? Oh, matter lies ever in waiting. I sit down cheerfully after breakfast to begin my work, never suspecting the enemy. I dip in my pen, there's a hair in it ; that is the way it begins. The fiend will not come out ; I get ink on my fingers, the paper gets stained. I look for another sheet, then for a book, and so on ; in short, my blessed morning is gone. From early dawn until late at night, so long as there is a human being about, matter is on the alert to play him a trick. The only way to do is to treat it as the lion-tamer does the beast whose cage he has ventured to enter he meets its gaze and the beast meets his. To talk about the moral power of a human being is all nonsense, a mere fairy-tale ; no, the steady gaze only tells the brute that the man is on his guard, and gaze against gaze the monster lurks to see if for one single moment he will forget himself. So lurks all matter, lead- A RABID PHILOSOPHER. 155 pencils, pens, inkstand, paper, cigar, glass, lamp all, all for the moment when you are not watching. But, ye saints ! who can ever do it? Who has time ? And like the tiger that leaps upon its unfortunate victim the moment he knows himself to be unnoticed, so does matter, drat it ! sometimes clumsily, sometimes subtly, as the case may be. Diabolically subtle, for instance, was the bit of iron filing that landed in my eye the morning I was about to start out on my tour. Oh, believe me, when a respectable person is going a-travelling all the devils hold an oecumenical council to defeat him. But one of the favourite tricks dear to the heart of all objects is to creep stealthily to the edge, and drop down from a height to slip out of your hand you for- get yourself but a single moment and there goes " At this moment we heard a slight sound at the end where the other man was sitting ; we saw him dodge hastily under the table, and then emerge with an object in his hand, which he looked upon in evident distress, and then with deep dejection. It was his roll, spread first with butter and then with honey in the most accurate and approved manner, and, " of course," as A. E. would say, it had fallen upon the buttered side. It was with a great effort that I overcame a strong desire to laugh, for it seemed exactly as if there had been a mystic primordial relation between his words and the disaster. A. E. glanced across the table with perfect gravity, and gently nodded his head without a vestige of irony ; nay, rather, with an expression of sympathy, as much as to say : we poor mortals know all about it. The stranger shot not only one but a whole battery of venomous glances over to our side, and sullenly set to work to produce a fit successor to the incurable roll. A. E. continued quietly : " Then too I don't like that business about that thing, or rather the two things, that Kant called the pure form of h priori perception." 1 5 6 GERMAN HUMOUR- "Space and time?" 44 That's it. What is space but an impertinent arrange- ment by means of which I am forced to remove A before putting R here " (he illustrated it with cups, dishes, and bottles, which were rather closely set upon the table), " and -' s sne - Karl Wendt, confound you, if you don't stop talking I'll stand you up by my platform, and then it'll be my turn to have a talk with you. (rev ecro/zcu, says she, ra\a yap o~e KaraKTai'Oi