Part 21

_Chairman._ I must request the defendant not to interrupt the proceedings. Prisoner, no doubt you are aware of the fact that it is culpable to assign to Professor Minckwitz the name of poet--that is, of course I mean poet of verses which he did not make.

_Accused._ I did not know it, Mr. Chairman; I am innocent.

_Lawyer Hamlet._ Gentlemen of the jury, I beg that you will note these words; they are of the utmost importance to the following transactions.

_Chairman._ I wish to ask whether the accused has ever read the poems of Professor Minckwitz.

_The Accused_ (_in violent excitement_). Never, Mr. Chairman, never! My record is spotless.

_Chairman._ Why did you not read the poems?

_The Accused._ All my efforts to obtain the volume were fruitless. I called upon three of my friends who possess a well-equipped library; two of them threatened to impeach me for libel, the third kicked me down stairs.

_Chairman._ You may sit down. (_To the jury._) A number of witnesses have been summoned before the court whose names the _Kleinstädter_ is also charged with having forged. It seems indeed that forgery of names has been systematically indulged in by the prisoner. (_To the bailiff._) Bid the witnesses enter.

(_General tumult. Chairman’s bell._)

_Chairman_ (_to first witness_). What is your name?

_Witness._ Dr. Max Hirsch.

_Chairman._ Not related to the accused? Not in his service?

_Witness._ No.

_Chairman._ In the _Kleinstädter’s_ second letter a speech is quoted which purports to have been delivered by you in Parliament, beginning, “In England ... Sheffield ... partnership ... etc.” Is that correct?

_Witness._ No. (_Sits down._)

_Chairman._ Second witness: His Majesty the Emperor of Siam. In his fourth letter the _Kleinstädter_ relates how your most serene Highness said to your Highness’ servant among other things, “Ra-phra, how could my predecessor condemn a man of your integrity?” Is that true?

_Witness._ Never a word of it, by Jove. (_Sits down._)

_Chairman._ Third witness: His Excellency the Imperial Chancellor Freiherr von Beust.

_Lawyer Hamlet._ I protest against the examination of this witness. Mr. Chairman and Judges, without venturing to impute motives not strictly impersonal to the witness, I feel it my duty to call attention to the fact that the relations between the accused and the witness are too close to assure an unbiassed testimony. Both are countrymen, both are great men; in the name of my client I move that this witness should not be cross-examined.

(_The judges put their heads together. After some time the Chairman announces that the court rejects the arguments of the defence as irrelevant, and demands the cross-examination of the witness._)

_Chairman._ Freiherr von Beust! Not related to the accused?

_Witness._ No.

_Chairman._ Not in his service?

_Witness._ No.

_Chairman._ In his fifth letter the _Kleinstädter_ quoted a long telegram with the signature of your Excellency, which your Excellency was said to have addressed to the diplomatic representatives at the _Journalistentag_. Will your Excellency have the kindness to inform us as to the precise facts?

_Witness._ Well, now, good friend, I’m afraid I’ll not be able to help you. I have sent a good many telegrams in my day.

_Chairman._ Thank you. (_Witness leaves the stand. Chairman addresses the jury._) Provided the gentlemen of the jury have no objections to offer, I will cross-examine the other witnesses all together. Fourth, fifth, and sixth witnesses: Victor Hugo, public writer on the Isle of Guernsey; Richard Wagner, musician _in spe_, and just now in Switzerland; and third, the man who wrote the prize novel! Gentlemen! in the letters of the _Kleinstädter_ he quotes, or pretends to quote, from your writings; from you, Victor Hugo, a chapter from an unprinted novel about Barbara Ubryk, entitled, “_La nonne qui ne rit pas--mais pas du tout_.” The chapter to be headed, “Naxos, nix, nox, nux,” and beginning, “Night. Deep night, gloomy, dark. Upon the ground rotten straw. Husks and stems without fruit. In a word, straw.” From you, Mr. Wagner, he quoted verses from _Rheingold_--

“Winselnde Winde Wagalaweia! Oh Eselinde, Oh Eseleia!”

From you, prize-crowned poet, the novel, _The Bloody Tragedy at the Churchyard_. Are these quotations authentic--are you the authors of the same?

_Witnesses_ (_in concert_). No. (_They sit down._)

_Chairman._ Has the accused anything to say for himself?

_The Accused._ Nix.

_Chairman._ The list of witnesses is exhausted; the representative of the plaintiff, the Crown Solicitor, has the floor.

_Crown Solicitor._ Never, gentlemen of the jury, did I fulfil the serious and difficult function of my office with a more quiet conscience or a lighter heart. There is not the faintest doubt stirring within me, no shadow of uneasiness falls upon me; the guilt of the accused is clear as day! We have here before us a hardened villain, a sinner of the deepest dye. What has occurred? A well-known magazine brings out a poem under the name of “Minckwitz.” The poem is not by Minckwitz; the forgery is evident. Taken alone, the fact of choosing this form of criticism would not be criminal; but, gentlemen, when this misuse of a writer’s name has the result of lowering him in public opinion it is decidedly culpable. And here this is the case. If Minckwitz were a poet of distinction, criticism would do him no harm; but as the _Kleinstädter’s_ criticism is just in all points, it _does_ harm Herr Professor Minckwitz, and lowers him in public opinion. The defendant might perhaps say that there is no penal law in the world which forbids criticism of a poet, and that the satire in question did not attack Minckwitz the man, but Minckwitz the poet. Do not permit yourself to be influenced by such sophistry. It is impossible to attack the _poet_ Minckwitz, because there is no such person; whoever attacks Minckwitz attacks the man. I would be the last to restrain the freedom of speech. I admit the value and the necessity of criticism. But the chosen subject must be worthy of criticism. If Minckwitz takes pleasure in tripping up the great ones of literature with the utmost nonchalance in his “Neuhochdeutschen Parnass,” there is no reason why he should not indulge himself; but to criticise Minckwitz in his quality of poet is quite another matter; such a gross misuse of the function of criticism should be interfered with by a court of justice in the interest of the public.

There is another argument which the defence will doubtless bring, to which I should like to reply right here. You will be told, gentlemen of the jury, that the degradation of an author in public opinion can be effective only if the verses published in the _Salon_, under the name of Minckwitz, are poorer than his authentic ones, and that this is decidedly not the case. Well, it strikes me that the contrary is true! It is just because the verses in the _Salon_--as I must gladly admit--are much better than any Minckwitz verses; it is for this very reason that public opinion is unfavourably influenced. For, gentlemen, when Minckwitz brings his epos before the public, all the world will say, “The verses in the _Salon_ were much more amusing,” and it seems to me this will not have the effect of heightening the author’s reputation. I have done, gentlemen of the jury. I believe I have proved to your satisfaction that the accused is guilty of the crime with which he was charged, and in consideration of the frequent repetition of literary forgery, as shown by the witnesses, I move that sentence be pronounced for the most severe penalty of the law--viz., confinement in intellectual pursuits to the works of Professor Minckwitz.

(_Sensation. Chairman’s bell._)

_Chairman._ The defendant has the floor.

_Lawyer Hamlet._ Gentlemen of the jury! We do not come before you with witnesses from the most distant confines of this globe, we do not come with ringing words; no, we are simple, harmless, plain, and true. We need no witnesses; the facts speak for us. Gentlemen of the jury, cast a glance upon the accused, look well at his stolid face, his fixed eyes, his enervated lips; and this innocent creature you would declare guilty of the heinous crime charged to him? Never, if I can help it! The representative of the Crown has told you that literary forgery in a legal sense is only possible where public reputation is endangered. I admit that in a merely human sense the name of Minckwitz was forged, but certainly not in the sense of the law. It strikes me that Professor Minckwitz would do well to get down on his knees and thank the _Kleinstädter_ for occupying himself so minutely with his small person; by means of the article in question Professor Minckwitz is not only not lowered in public opinion, on the contrary he is given more honour than he deserves. Granting, however, that the _Kleinstädter_ could be convicted of forgery, would this be sufficient cause to pronounce sentence upon him? No, gentlemen of the jury, a thousand times no! I asked you just now to note my client’s physiognomy; I repeat my request. In these flaccid muscles, in these dim eyeballs, lurks idiocy. Far be it from us to avenge where we should pity. Yes, gentlemen, this _Kleinstädter_ is an idiot, his physiognomy shows it, and still more evident does it become when you look back upon his conduct during these proceedings--when you remember the imbecility of that perpetual “nix,” and, most of all, by the deed of which he stands accused. There might be some sense in misusing the name of Goethe, Schiller, Heine, Geibel, Heyse, Lenau; I can understand that, though I would not condone it; but to misuse the name of Minckwitz as a poet, that, gentlemen of the jury, cannot be accounted for otherwise than by presupposing complete paralysis of the intellectual functions on the part of the accused. My client is a poor, irresponsible creature; his mental condition annuls his penalty. Gentlemen of the jury, I appeal to your heart. You all have children, rosy-cheeked, blooming, happy; imagine what would be your grief if one of your children should suddenly lose his reason; would you punish that child? No, you would not do so, you could not do it, and you will prove it now by fully acquitting my unfortunate client!

(_Sensation and weeping. Bell._)

_Chairman._ Prisoner, is there anything you have to say for yourself?

_The Accused._ Nix.

_Chairman_ (_recapitulates the proceedings and closes_). There are these questions then to be submitted to your judgment--

First: Is the accused guilty of having with malice aforethought forged the name of Minckwitz in such manner as to thereby injure Professor Minckwitz’s public reputation?

Second: Is the accused sane?

(_The jury retire. After a short time they return, and their foreman declares in a strong voice that the jury answered both questions unanimously in the affirmative. Great excitement. The court solicitor repeats his proposition; the defendant does the same. After a half-hour’s debate the bell of the Chairman is heard._)

_Chairman._ Considering that the accused has been convicted of the penal offence with which he had been charged, considering further that the mental condition of the accused gives cause for leniency, the Court sentences the accused to the penalty of finding Minckwitz’s poetry excellent reading.

_Paul Lindau._

_STUDENTS’ SONGS._

OLD ASSYRIAN-JONAH.

IN the Black Whale at Ascalon A man drank day by day, Till, stiff as any broom-handle Upon the floor he lay.

In the Black Whale at Ascalon The landlord said: “I say, He’s drinking of my date-juice wine Much more than he can pay!”

In the Black Whale at Ascalon The waiters brought the bill, In arrow-heads on six broad tiles, To him who thus did swill.

In the Black Whale at Ascalon The guest cried out: “O woe! I spent in the Lamb at Nineveh My money long ago!”

In the Black Whale at Ascalon The clock struck half-past four, When the Nubian porter he did pitch The stranger from the door.

In the Black Whale at Ascalon No prophet hath renown; And he who there would drink in peace Must pay his money down.

_Joseph Victor Scheffel._

HEINZ VON STEIN.

Out rode from his wild, dark castle, The terrible Heinz von Stein: He came to the door of a tavern And gazed at the swinging sign.

He sat himself down at a table, And growled for a bottle of wine; Up came, with a flask and a corkscrew, A maiden of beauty divine.

Then, seized with a deep love-longing, He uttered, “Oh, damosell mine, Suppose you just give a few kisses To the valorous Rotter von Stein.”

But she answered, “The kissing business Is entirely out of my line; And I certainly will not begin it On a countenance ugly as thine.”

Oh, then the bold knight was angry, And he cursed both coarse and fine; And asked: “How much is the swindle For your sour and nasty wine?”

And fiercely he rode to the castle, And sat himself down to dine; And this is the terrible legend Of the terrible Heinz von Stein.

BRIGAND SONG.

_Air_--Von Weber’s “Dernière Pensée.”

’G giebt kein schönres Leben Als das Rauberleben In dem düstern, düstern Wald.

THERE’S no life is nobbier Than to be a robbier In the gloomy, gloomy, gloomy wood. Always blood a-drinkin’, Killin’ folks like winkin’, Little hinfants murderin’ all we could.

Comes a carriage glidin’, Or a feller ridin’, Or a tinker travellin’ with his cram, Then each jovial rover Holloas out, “Shell over! For your life we do not care a d--n!”

A FARTHING AND A SIXPENCE.

A FARTHING and a sixpence, And both of them were mine; The farthing went for water, And the sixpence went for wine.

The landlord and his daughter Cry, both of them, “Oh woe!” The landlord when I’m coming, And the daughter when I go.

My shoes are all in pieces, My boots are torn, d’ye see; And yonder, on the hedges, The birds are singing free.

And if there were no taverns, I’d never wish to roam; And no bung-hole in the barrel, Then I couldn’t drink at home.

_Count Albert von Schlippenbach._

THE TEUTOBURGER BATTLE.

WHEN the Romans, rashly roving, Into Germany were roving, First of all--to flourish, partial-- Rode ’mid trumps the great field-martial, Sir Quintilius Varus.

But in the Teutoburgian forest How the north wind blew and chor-rused; Ravens flying through the air, And there was a perfume there As of blood and corpses.

All at once, in sock and buskins, Out came rushing the Cheruskins Howling, “Gott and Vaterland!” They went in with sword in hand Against the Roman legions.

Ah, it was an awful slaughter, And the cohorts ran like water; But of all the foe that day The horsemen only got away, Because they were on horseback!

O Quintilius! wretched general, Knowest thou not that such our men are all? In a swamp he fell--how shocking! Lost two boots, a left-hand stocking, And, besides, was smothered.

Then, with his temper growing wusser, Said to Centurion Titiusser, “Pull your sword out--never mind, And bore me through with it behind, Since the game is busted.”

Scaevolo, of law a student, Fine young fellow--but imprudent As a youth of tender years, Served among the volunteers-- He was also captured.

E’en his hoped-for death was baffled, For ere they got him to the scaffold He was stabbed quite unaware, And nailed fast _en derrière_ To his Corpus Juris.

When this forest fight was over, Herman rubbed his hands in clover; And to do the thing up right, The Cheruscian did invite To a first-rate breakfast.

But in Rome the wretched varmints Went to purchase mourning garments; Just as they had tapped a puncheon, And Augustus sat at luncheon, Came the mournful story.

And the tidings so provoked him, That a peacock leg half choked him, And he cried--beyond control-- “Varus, Varus! d--n your soul! Redde legiones!”

His German slave, Hans Schmidt be-christened, Who in the corner stood and listened, Remarked, “Der Teufel take me wenn He efer kits dose droops acain, For teat men ish not lifin.”

Now, in honour of the story, A monument they’ll raise for glory. As for pedestal--they’ve done it; But who’ll pay for a statue on it Heaven alone can tell us.

_J. V. Scheffel._

THE LAST PAIR OF BREECHES.

_Air_--“’Tis the last Rose of Summer.”

’Tis my la-a-st pair of bre-e-eches Le-e-ft sa-a-dly a-lone; Ah--and she too with her riches, With another hence has gone.

Oh, they seemed in one piece knitted, Such a pair is seldom matched; Winter buckskin, how they fitted! Large plaid pattern, never patched!

Strutting proudly as a turkey, With those breeks I first sailed in; In my pocket to the door-key Rang such lots of lovely tin.

Ah, we fall as we have risen-- Soon no specie showed its face; And the Heidelberg town-prison Is a dark and silent place.

Soon I pawned all things worth pawning,-- Dress-coat, frock, and mantle light. You too, now, ere morrow’s dawning, My last trousers, good--good-night!

Day of trial, with what sorrow Do I feel thy pain at last; Nothing earthly bides the morrow, And the pledge-laws travel fast.

All must go, though strictly hoarded, Oh, last trousers, last of mine! Elkan Levi, gloomy, sordid, Old clo’,--take them, they are thine!

Boots!--of all my friends the truest, Come and prop my suffering head; But one pint, and that of newest, May’st thou bring--enough is said!

Then abed, from this sad hour, I’ll not rise, though all should ring, Till a heavy golden shower Through the roof comes pattering.

Then begone, for we must sever; Greet thy fellows in their cell. Ah! my legs already shiver; My last breeches,--fare ye well!

_J. V. Scheffel._

ENDERLE VON KETSCH.

[This ballad is founded on an incident narrated in the description of the Palatinate by Merian (1645), where, speaking of the village Ketsch, he tells us that “The Counte Palatine Otto Heinrich, afterwards Kurfürst, sailed in the yeere 1530 to the Holie Lande and to Jerusalem. Returning thence, hee came over the greate open sea, where a shipp from Norwaie mett him, and from it there came this cry: ‘Flye, flye, for ye fatt Enderle von Ketsch cometh!’ Now the Counte Palatine and his Chancellor Mückenhäuser knew a godless wretche of this name who dwelt at Ketsch, and therefore whenn they returned home they inquired of ye fatt Enderle and of the tyme of his deathe, and observed that itt agreed with the tyme whenn they did heare the crye upon ye sea, as whilom a professor of Heidelberg hath narrated in divers wrytings which hee left behinde.”]

_Chorus._

“AWAY--along! Away--along! With trembling, your jaws on the stretch. Away--along! We sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!”

_Solo._

Old Heinrich, the Pfalzgrave of Rhine--oh! Spoke out of a morning, “Rem blem! I’m tired of the sour Hock wine--oh! I’m off for Jerusalem.

“Far lovelier, neater, and nicer Are the maids there who give you the cup; Oh, Chancellor! oh, Mückenhäuser, Five thousand gold ducats pack up.”

And as before Joppa they anchored, The Chancellor held up his hand: “Now drain to the dregs your last tankard, For the ducats are come to an end.”

Old Heinrich said, “Well, and no wonder; Rem blem! what remains to be seen! We’ll paddle for Cyprus out yonder, And make a small raise on the Queen.”

But just as the galley was dancing By Cyprus, in beautiful night, A storm o’er the billows came prancing, With thunder and flashes of light.

In a ghastly wild glare, by the landing, A black ship came rushing along; There a ghost in his shirt-sleeves was standing, And howling a horrible song.

_Chorus._

“Away--along! Away--along! With trembling, your jaws on the stretch. Away--along! I sing the song Of Enderle von Ketsch!”

_Solo._

The thunder grew calmer and wiser, Like oil lay the water below; But oh, the old brave Mückenhäuser The Chancellor felt sorrow and woe.

The Pfalzgrave stood up by the rudder, And gazed on the billowy foam; “Rem blem! all my soul’s in a shudder, Oh, Cyprus--I travel for home!

“God spare me such terrible menace-- I’m wiser through trial and pain; Back, back on our course to old Venice-- I’ll never borrow money again.

“And he who ’mid heathens at table His cash to the devil has slammed, Let him hook it in peace while he’s able,-- It sounds like all hell and be damned!”

_J. V. Scheffel._

GOD AND THE LOVER.

THEN full of longing hieing, Straight I sought the Father, sighing: _O may I, may I, may I, May I love the girl?_ “You blackguard!” he outswore, “If you want your back beat sore, Then you may love the girl.”

Then full of longing hieing, Straight I sought the good Priest, sighing: _O may I, may I, may I, May I love the girl?_ “My dear son, by my soul, If you seek for Hell’s deep hole, Then you may love the girl.”

Then full of longing hieing, Straight I sought the Lord God, sighing: _O may I, may I, may I, May I love the girl?_ “My boy,” laughed he, “go take her: Why the devil did I make her?-- Faith, you may love the girl!”

_Old German._

_UNINTENTIONAL WITTICISMS OF THE ABSENT-MINDED GERMAN PROFESSOR._

IN the day of Achilles the Greeks had no books except Homer.

A panic seized the Persians at Marathon, and crying, “Lord Jesus, there are the Athenasians,” they rushed for the sea.

Alexander would undoubtedly have subjugated the whole of Asia, but he will soon die.

Alexander was poisoned twenty-one years before his death.

The death of Alexander was felt by all Asia, but not until after his death.

Demetrius was the son of his father, and had an army of 100,000 Reichsthalers.

Charilaus was born very young.

This is a common incident in Roman history, which, however, does not occur often.

Servius came to Rome and was born there.

At the battle of Cannæ the Roman army consisted of 30,000 men, 20,000 were made prisoners, 40,000 fell, and 120,000 escaped.

If Cæsar had not crossed the Rubicon there is no knowing where he would have gone.

Brutus and Cassius murdered Cæsar in a manner very detrimental to his health.

His brother, whom he had caused to be murdered, he at last proscribed.

Varus was the only Roman general who succeeded in being conquered by the Germans.

Gallus was murdered in the presence of the populace, and he met the same fate once more at the hands of an assassin.

Julianus first killed himself, then his father, and then himself.

Tacitus says the ancient Germans were as tall as our Gardes du Corps.

The Cimbers and Teutons are descended from each other.

Alfons was two years old when he was born.

So did King Alfons surrender the eastern part of his career.

Returning from Spain, the roads were so poor that it was necessary to take eight waggons to one horse.

Richard III. murdered all his successors.

After the execution of Mary Stuart, Elizabeth appeared in Parliament, in one hand a handkerchief, in the other a tear.

It is unnecessary to say anything about Newton except that he died.