Tales from the German, Comprising specimens from the most celebrated authors

"Ah! how glibly you can tell lies," said Peter, laughing, "you must tell that to another to be believed; think you I have not seen such tricks by dozens in my journeys? Your hearts in the chamber are made of wax; you're a rich fellow I grant, but you are no magician."

Now the giant was enraged and burst open the chamber door, saying, "Come in and read all the labels and look yonder is Peter Munk's heart; do you see how it writhes? Can that too be of wax?"

"For all that, it is of wax," replied Peter. "A genuine heart does not writhe like that. I have mine still in my breast. No! you are no magician."

"But I will prove it to you," cried the former angrily. "You shall feel that it is your heart." He took it, opened Peter's waistcoat, took the stone from his breast, and held it up. Then taking the heart, he breathed on it, and set it carefully in its proper place, and immediately Peter felt how it beat, and could rejoice again. "How do you feel now?" asked Michel, smiling.

"True enough, you were right," replied Peter, taking carefully the little cross from his pocket. "I should never have believed such things could be done."

"You see I know something of witchcraft, do I not? But, come, I will now replace the stone again."

"Gently, Herr Michel," cried Peter, stepping backwards, and holding up the cross, "mice are caught with bacon, and this time you have been deceived;" and immediately he began to repeat the prayers that came into his mind.

Now Michel became less and less, fell to the ground, and writhed like a worm, groaning and moaning, and all the hearts round began to beat, and became convulsed, so that it sounded like a clockmaker's workshop.

Peter was terrified, his mind was quite disturbed; he ran from the house, and, urged by the anguish of the moment, climbed up a steep rock, for he heard Michel get up, stamping and raving, and denouncing curses on him. When he reached the top, he ran towards the Tannenbühl; a dreadful thunder-storm came on; lightning flashed around him, splitting the trees, but he reached the precincts of the glass-mannikin in safety.

His heart beat joyfully – only because it did beat; but now he looked back with horror on his past life, as he did on the thunderstorm that was destroying the beautiful forest on his right and left. He thought of his wife, a beautiful, good woman, whom he had murdered from avarice; he appeared to himself an outcast from mankind, and wept bitterly as he reached the hill of the glass-mannikin.

The Schatzhauser was sitting under a pine-tree, and was smoking a small pipe; but he looked more serene than before.

"Why do you weep, Peter?" asked he, "have you not recovered your heart? Is the cold one still in your breast?"

"Alas! sir," sighed Peter, "when I still carried about with me the cold stony heart, I never wept, my eyes were as dry as the ground in July; but now my old heart will almost break with what have done. I have driven my debtors to misery, set the dogs on the sick and poor, and you yourself know how my whip fell upon her beautiful forehead."

"Peter, you were a great sinner," said the little man. "Money and idleness corrupted you, until your heart turned to stone, and no longer knew joy, sorrow, repentance, or compassion. But repentance reconciles; and if I only knew that you were truly sorry for your past life, it might yet be in my power to do something for you."

"I wish nothing more," replied Peter, dropping his head sorrowfully. "It is all over with me, I can no more rejoice in my lifetime; what shall I do thus alone in the world? My mother will never pardon me for what I have done to her, and I have perhaps brought her to the grave, monster that I am! Elizabeth, my wife, too, – rather strike me dead, Herr Schatzhauser, then my wretched life will end at once."

"Well," replied the little man, "if you wish nothing else, you can have it, so my axe is at hand." He quietly took his pipe from his mouth, knocked the ashes out, and put it into his pocket. Then rising slowly, he went behind the pines. But Peter sat down weeping in the grass, his life had no longer any value for him, and he patiently awaited the deadly blow. After a short time, he heard gentle steps behind him, and thought, "Now he is coming."

"Look up once more, Peter Munk," cried the little man. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up, and beheld his mother, and Elizabeth his wife, who kindly gazed on him. Then he jumped up joyfully, saying, "You are not dead, then, Elizabeth, nor you, mother; and have you forgiven me?"

"They will forgive you," said the glass-mannikin, "because you feel true repentance, and all shall be forgotten. Go home now, to your father's hut, and be a charcoal-burner as before; if you are active and honest, you will do credit to your trade, and your neighbours will love and esteem you more than if you possessed ten tons of gold." Thus saying, the glass-mannikin left them. The three praised and blessed him, and went home.

The splendid house of wealthy Peter stood no longer; it was struck by lightning, and burnt to the ground, with all its treasures. But they were not far from his father's hut, and thither they went, without caring much for their great loss. But what was their surprise when they reached the hut; it was changed into a handsome farm-house, and all in it was simple, but good and cleanly.

"This is the glass-mannikin's doing," cried Peter.

"How beautiful!" said Frau Elizabeth; "and here I feel more at home than in the larger house, with many servants."

Henceforth Peter Munk became an industrious and honest man. He was content with what he had, carried on his trade cheerfully, and thus it was that he became wealthy by his own energy, and respected and beloved in the whole forest. He no longer quarrelled with his wife, but honoured his mother, and relieved the poor who came to his door. When, after twelvemonths, Fran Elizabeth presented him with a beautiful little boy, Peter went to the Tannenbühl, and repeated the verse as before. But the glass-mannikin did not show himself.

"Mr. Schatzhauser," he cried loudly, "only listen to me. I wish nothing but to ask you to stand godfather to my little son." But he received no answer, and only a short gust of wind rushed through the pines, and cast a few cones on the grass.

"Then I will take these as a remembrance, as you will not show yourself," cried Peter, and he put them in his pocket, and returned home. But when he took off his jacket, and his mother turned out the pockets before putting it away, four large rolls of money fell out; and when they opened them, they found them all good and new Baden dollars, and not one counterfeit, and these were the intended godfather's gift for little Peter, from the little man in the Tannenbühl. Thus they lived on, quietly and cheerfully; and many a time Peter Munk, when gray-headed, would say, "It is indeed better to be content with little, than to have wealth and a cold heart."

C. A. F.

THE WONDERS IN THE SPESSART

BY KARL IMMERMANN

[This tale occurs in the novel of "Münchhausen," the narrator telling it to the object of his affections. It is necessary to state this to render the opening intelligible. The story is probably intended to satirize the speculative tendency of the Germans, and old Albertus Magnus seems a sort of representative of Hegel, whom Immermann openly attacks in the course of the "Münchhausen." To me the expression "dialectic thought," which occurs in the Hegelian sense at p. 85, is conclusive in this respect. – J. O.]

"Did you ever, Lisbeth, on a clear sunny day, go through a beautiful wood, in which the blue sky peered through the green diadems above you, where the exhalation of the trees was like a breath of God, and when thy foot scattered a thousand glittering pearls from the pointed grass?"

"Yes, lately, Oswald dear, I went through the mountains to collect the rents. It is delightful to walk in a green fresh wood; I could ramble about one for whole days without meeting a soul, and without being in the least terrified. The turf is God's mantle, and we are guarded by a thousand angels, whether we sit or stand upon it. Now a hill – now a rock! I ran and ran, because I always thought, 'Behind, then, must be flying the wonderful bird with its blue and red wings, its golden crown upon its head.' I grew hot and red with running, but not weary. One does not get weary in a wood."

"And when you did not see the wonderful bird behind the hill in the hedge, you stood still hard-breathing, and you heard afar in the valley of oaks the sound of the axe, which is the forest clock, and tells that man's hour is running even in such a lovely solitude."

"Or farther, Oswald, the free prospect up the hill between the dark round beeches, and still closer, the brow of the hill crowned with lofty trunks! There red cows were feeding, and shook their bells, there the dew on the grass gave a silvery hue to the sunlit valley, and the shadows of the cows and the trees played at hide-and-seek with each other."

"Well, then, on such a sunny morning many hundred years ago, two young men met one another in the wood. It was in the great woody ridge of mountains, called Spessart, which forms the boundary between the joyous districts of the Rhine and the fertile Fraconia. That is a wood, dear Lisbeth, which is ten leagues broad and twenty long, covering plains and mountains, clifts and valleys.

"On the great highway, which runs straight from the Rhine-land to Würzburg and Bamberg, these young men met each other. One came from the west, the other from the east. Their animals were as opposite as their directions. The one from the east sat upon a bay horse, which pranced merrily, and he looked right stately in his gay armour, and his cap of red velvet, from which the heron's plume descended; the one from the west wore a black cap without any mark of distinction, a long student's cloak of the same colour, and rode on a humble mule.

"When the young knight had approached the travelling student, he stopped his bay, saluted the other in a friendly way, and said: 'Good friend, I was just going to alight, and to take my morning snack, but since two are required for love, gaming, and eating, if these three pleasant affairs are to go off properly, I beg leave to ask you, whether you will dismount and be my partner? A mouthfull of grass would no less suit your gray, than my bay. The day will be hot, and the beasts require some repose.'

"The travelling student was pleased with this offer. Both alighted and seated themselves by the roadside on the wild thyme and lavender, from which, as they sat down, a white cloud of perfumes ascended, and a hundred bees that were disturbed in their labours arose humming. A squire, who had followed the young knight with a heavy laden horse, took charge of the two animals, gave his master a goblet and bottle, together with bread and meat from the knapsack, unbridled the beasts, and let them graze by the roadside.

"The travelling student felt the side-pocket of his cloak, drew back his hand with an air of vexation, and cried: 'Out upon my eternal abstraction! This very morning, I had packed up my breakfast so neatly in the inn, and then something else must needs come into my head, and make me forget my provisions.'

"'If that is all,' cried the young knight, 'here is enough for you and me!' He divided the bread and meat, filled the goblet, and gave the other both liquid and solid. At the same time he examined him more closely, while the other on his side examined him also, and then a cry of astonishment was uttered by them both:

"'Are you not?' – 'Nay, art thou not?' they cried.

"'I am indeed Conrad of Aufsess!' cried the young knight.

"'And I Peter of Stellen,' cried the other. They embraced each other, and could hardly contain themselves for joy at this unexpected meeting.

"They were indeed playfellows, who had met by accident in the verdant Spessart. Their fathers had been friends, and the sons had often played at bat and ball together; had quarrelled a hundred times, and as often made it up again. However, young Peter was always more quiet and reflective than his playfellow, who thought about nothing but the names of weapons and riding-equipage. At last Peter declared to his father that he wished to become learned, and he went to Cologne to sit at the feet of the celebrated Albertus Magnus, who was master of all the human sciences then known, and of whom, report said, that he was also deeply initiated in the occult arts.

"A considerable time had elapsed, since either of the playfellows had heard any thing of the other. After the first storm of joy had subsided, and breakfast was removed, the knight asked the student what had occurred to him.

"'To that, my friend, I can give a very short answer, and ought to give thee a very long one. A short one, if I merely portray the outward form and shell of my life hitherto; a long one – ah, an infinitely long one, if thou desirest to taste the inner kernel of this shell.'

"'Eh, silly fellow,' cried the knight, 'what hard discourse is this? Give the shell and a bit of the kernel, if the whole nut is too large for a single meal.'

"'Then know,' replied the other, 'that my visible course of life was between narrow banks. I dwelt in a little dark street, at the back of a house inhabited by quiet people. My window looked upon a garden to the trees and shrubs of which a solemn background was formed by the wall of the Templars' house. I kept myself very solitary, associating neither with the citizens, nor with the students. The result is that I know nothing about the large city, except the street leading from my house to the Dominican convent, where my great master taught. When I returned to my cell, and had kept awake till midnight by my studying lamp, I sometimes looked out of window to cool my heated eyes by exposure to the deep starry heaven. I then often saw a light in the Templars' house opposite; the knights in the white mantles of their order passed along the galleries, like spirits in the glare of red torches, vanished behind the pillars, and re-appeared. In the extreme corner of the wing, curtains were let down before the windows, but through the thinner parts of these a singular light shone, while behind them melodies could be heard, sounding through the night sweetly and solemnly, like forbidden desires.

"'Thus did my days pass insignificant to outward appearance, but internally a brilliant festival of all sorts of wonders. Albertus now distinguished me above his other pupils; and in a short time I observed that he repeated to me with a particular emphasis, certain words, which passed unheeded by the rest. These were words which pointed to the mysterious connection of all human knowledge, and a common root, shooting into the darkest secrecy of that great tree, which in the light above unfolded its mighty branches; – as grammar, dialectics, eloquence, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. At such words his eyes would rest upon me, with the most penetrating glance, and my looks told him, that he had kindled in me a deep desire for the last and greatest treasures of his mind.

"'By degrees, I became the confidant of his secret laboratory, and the pupil to which he intended to bequeath, as a precious legacy, a portion of his talent. There is only one marrow of things, which here in the metal is heavy and presses down, there in the waving plant, or the volatile bird, struggles to free itself from the original kernel. All things undergo a perpetual change. The Creator indeed works in nature, but nature also works for herself. And he who has the right power at his command can call forth her own peculiar independent life, so that the limbs which would otherwise remain bound in the Creator, will unfold themselves to new movements. My great master conducted me with a secure hand to that spring, where the marrow of things is flowing. I dipped my finger therein, and all my senses were at once filled with a superhuman power of perception. We often sat together in the sooty melting-room, and looked into the glow of the furnace; he before, on a low stool, I cowering behind him, giving the coals or the pieces of ore, which he flung into the crucible with his left hand, while with the right he affectionately held me. Then the metals defended themselves; the salts and acids crackled; the great Regulus, who rules all the world wished, as in a stormy fortress, to guard himself in the midst of sharp-angled crystals; the red, blue, and green vassals were kindled in wrath, and as if to keep us off, stretched their glaring spears towards us, but we broke through the works and destroyed the garrison, and the shining king humbly surrendered himself over the ruins of dross. Gold in itself is nothing to him whose heart is not set on earthly things, but to perceive this dearest and most precious boon of nature in all and every thing, even in what is most trifling and insignificant, that is a great matter to the philosopher. At other times the stars showed us their curious circles which separated themselves as history, and sunk to the earth, or the intimate connection of tones and numbers was awakened to us and showed us links which no word can describe, but which are again much more revealed by tones and numbers. But in all this mysterious essence and interweaving, that it might not again become a cold sticky mass, floated, ever combining and ever freeing, that which separates itself, both in itself and in things, amid the contest of ever fading youth – the great, the unfathomable, the dialectic thought.

"'Oh blessed satisfying time of the opened intelligence, of the wandering through the inner halls of the palace, at the metal doors of which others knock in vain! At last – "

"The wandering student, whose lips during the narrative had been glowing more and more, took a deep red colour, while a strange fire flashed from his eyes, stopped short here, as though suddenly sobered from his inspiration. The knight wished in vain for the completion of the discourse, and then said to his friend: 'Well —at last?'

"'At last,' replied the student, in a tone of feigned indifference, 'we were obliged to separate, if only for a short time. My great master now sends me to Ratisbon to ask for certain papers from the sacristy of the cathedral, which he left there as bishop. I shall bring them to him, and shall then, indeed, if I can, pass my life with him.'

"The young knight poured the rest of his wine into the goblet, looked into it, and drank the wine more slowly than before. 'Thou hast told me strange things,' he began after a silence, 'but they do not stagger me. God's world appears to me so beautifully adorned, that I should take no delight in tearing away the charming veil, and looking in to the innermost core of things, as thou callest it. The sky is blue, the stars shine, the wood rustles, the plants give fragrance, and this blue, this shining, this rustling, this fragrance – are they not the most beautiful things that can be, behind which there is nothing more beautiful? Pardon me, I do not envy thee thy secret knowledge. Poor fellow! this knowledge does not give thee a colour. Thy cheeks are quite pale and sunken.'

"'Every one has his appointed path, one this, the other that,' replied the scholar. 'It is not the bounding of blood that constitutes life. Marble is white, and walls of marble generally enclose the spot in which stand the statues of the gods, yet enough of this, and now for thyself. What hast thou done since I last saw thee?'

"'Oh! of that,' cried the young knight Conrad, with his usual light-heartedness, 'there is little to be told! I got upon horseback and got off again, I went about to many a good prince's court, thrust many a spear, gained many thanks, missed many thanks, and peeped into many a lovely woman's eye. I can write my name, and press the knob of my sword in wax by the side of it, and I can rhyme a song, though not so well as Master Godfried of Strasburg.11 I have gone through the initiatory ceremonies, and was dubbed a knight at Firchheim. Now I am riding to Mayence, where the emperor is going to hold a tournament, to tumble about a little and enjoy life.'

"The student looked at the sun's place, and said: 'It is a pity that after such a friendly meeting we must so soon part. Nevertheless it is necessary, if we each design to fulfil our purpose to-day.'

"'Come with me to Mayence,' cried the other, as he jumped up, and eyed the student with a singularly compassionate look, which, however, allowed a smile to appear. 'Leave that gloomy Ratisbon, and the cathedral and the sacristy; cheer up thy face among jolly fellows, by the round table, in the wine-cellar, and before the flowery windows of fair damsels. Let the sound of flute and shaum purify thine ears of the awful vigils of the Templars, who are considered mischievous heretics and Baffomets' priests over all Christendom. Come to Mayence, Peter!'

"He was already in his saddle, when he uttered these last words, and stretched out his hand as if in supplication, towards his friend, who turned aside and drew back his arm in token of refusal. 'What has come into your head?' he said, smiling reluctantly. 'Ah, friend Conrad, if I had already said every one has his appointed way, I would cry out to thee turn back, thou volatile heedless one! Youth fades away, the jest becomes hushed, the laugh will one day be found suddenly to fail, because the face has become too stiff, or grins repulsively from withered wrinkles! Woe then to him whose garners are not full, whose chambers are not stored! Ah, there must be something dismal in such a base, impoverished old age, and the proverb is right which says: 'Those who at morn too merry are, shall reap at night sorrow and care.' Looking upon thee thus, oh brother of my youth, I may well feel troubled about thee, for who knows in what altered condition I may find thee again.'

"The knight gave the student's hand a hearty shake and cried: 'Perhaps thou wilt be transformed when we meet again – wilt be decked out in velvet and satin, and surpass us all!' He darted off, and in the distance the student heard him sing a song which was then in every mouth, and sounded something like this:

'No fairer flow'r, I vow, is knownThan that bright rose, sweet woman's lips,With such luxuriance swelling.Close-lock'd at first, this flow'ret keeps,When as an infant bud 'tis shownAll bold assaults repelling.But every flow'r is wash'd by May,On rosy lips he plants a kiss,And straight we see them fully blowing.Then rosy lips should find a kiss,And every kiss should in its dayFind lips with fondness glowing.'

"A butterfly flew up before the student. 'Is not the life of most men,' he said, 'to be compared to the fluttering of this moth? Light and motley he goes flaunting about, and yet how barren and short are his joys.' He rolled about his great eyes, but only an empty alternation of light and shade reached these dim mirrors, not the full form, the fine colour. The wood looked on him from its green depths with an irresistible glance. 'Suppose,' he said, 'I leave my patient beast awhile on this grass-plot; it will not run away from me, and I feel the warmest desire to wander there for an hour. How refreshing it must be in the depths of the wood!'

"He turned aside from the high road by a narrow path, which, after winding for a short distance through the tall trees, sloped down into the wood. Soon he found himself in a perfect solitude, with a rustling, whispering, and whining round him, while only a few single gleams of sun-light reflected with a green hue, played about him like ignis fatui. Sometimes he thought he heard his name called behind him in the distance, and – he did not know why – the call appeared to him hateful and repulsive. Then again he would take the sound to be a mere delusion, but whatever he thought he always got deeper and deeper into the dark forest. Large gnarled roots lay like snakes across the way, stretched out, so that the student was in danger of tumbling every moment. Stag-beetles stood like noble game in the moor, while the purest hues of golden vegetation shone from little nooks in the rocks. The perspiration stood on his forehead, and with increasing rapidity he penetrated the thicket, and fled from the bright sunny world without. It was not only the exercise of walking that made him hot, his mind was also labouring under a burden of heavy recollections. At last, after the pathway had long vanished from beneath his feet, he came to a beautiful, smooth, dark spot, among some mighty oak-trees. Still he heard his name called in the distance. 'Here,' he said, 'the rude sound yonder will no more reach me; here I shall be quietly concealed.' He sunk down upon a great mossy stone, his heart heaved, he was struggling with a powerful desire. 'Forgive my presumption, great master,' he cried, 'but there is a knowledge which must be followed by action, otherwise it crushes a mortal. Here, nearer to the heart of the great mother, where amid sprouting and growing, her pulse beats more audibly, – here must I utter the magic word, which I heard from thy sleeping lips, when thou spakest it in a dream; the word, at the sound of which the creature casts aside its veil, the powers which labour beneath bark and hide, and in the kernel of the rock, become visible, and the language of birds becomes intelligible to the ear.'