No More Learning

These won instant and wide favor, and were widely trans-
lated. They rank among the author's most pleasing and successful
productions, stamped as they are with that truth which a writer like
Auerbach, or a painter like Defregger or Schmidt, can express when
sitting down to deal with the scenes and folk which from early
youth have been photographed upon his heart and memory. In 1856
there followed in the same descriptive field his 'Barfüssele' (Little
Barefoot), Joseph im Schnee' (Joseph in the Snow: 1861), and
'Edelweiss' (1861). His writings of this date - tales, sketches journa-
listic, political, and dramatic, and other papers- - reveal Auerbach's
varying moods or enthusiasms, chronicle his residence in different
German or Austrian cities, and are comparatively insignificant among
his forty or more volumes. Nor is much to be said of his first long
fiction, 'Neues Leben' (New Life).
—
But with Auf der Höhe (On the Heights), a philosophic romance
of court life in the capital and the royal country seat of a consid-



## p. 963 (#389) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
963
erable German kingdom (by no means merely imaginary), inwoven
with a minute study of peasant life and character, Auerbach's popu-
lar reputation was established. His plan of making ethics the chief
end of a novel was here exhibited at its best; he never again showed
the same force of conception which got his imperfect literary art
forgiven. Another long novel, not less doctrinaire in scope, but deal
ing with quite different materials and problems, 'Das Landhaus am
Rhein' (The Villa on the Rhine), was issued in 1868; and was fol-
lowed by Waldfried,' a long, patriotic, and on the whole inert, study
of a German family from 1848 until the close of the Franco-Prussian
War.
<
>
In spite of his untiring industry, Auerbach produced little more of
consequence, though he wrote a new series of Black Forest sketches:
'Nach Dreissig Jahren (After Thirty Years: 1876); 'Der Forstmeister'
(The Head Forester: 1879); and 'Brigitta' (1880). The close of his life
was much embittered by the growth of the anti-Semitic sentiment;
and his residence in Germany was merely nominal. He died at
Cannes, France, in 1882.
'On the Heights' is doubtless Auerbach's best representative.
'The Villa on the Rhine' is in a lower key, with less appealing types,
and less attractive local color. Moreover, it is weighted with more
philosophizing, and its movement is slower. In On the Heights'
the emotional situations are strong. In spite of sentimentality, a true
feeling animates its technique. The atmosphere of a German royal
residence, as he reveals it, appears almost as heavy as the real thing.
Auerbach's humor is leaden; he finds it necessary to explain his own
attempts at it. But the peasant-nurse Walpurga, her husband Hansei,
and the aged grandmother in the family, are admirable delineations.
The heroine, Irma von Wildenort, is genuinely human.
The story
of her abrupt atonement for a lapse from her better self, the grad-
ual process of her fantastic expiation and of her self-redemption, --
through the deliberate sacrifice of all that belongs to her treacherous
past,- her successful struggle into a high ethical life and knowledge
of herself (the element which gives the book its force), offer much
that is consistent, and appealing and elevating to the conscience.
Auerbach crowds material into the book, tangles up too many
different skeins of plot, offers too many types to study and interests
to follow, and betrays a want of perspective in its construction. But
in spite of all its defects it is a novel that should not be forgotten.
For reflective readers it will always hold a charm, and its latent
strength is proved by its triumph over its own faults.


## p. 964 (#390) ############################################

964
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
THE FIRST MASS
From Ivo the Gentleman,' in 'Black Forest Village Stories>
ONE
NE Saturday afternoon the busy sound of hammer and adze
was heard on the green hill-top which served the good folks.
of Nordstetten as their open-air gathering-place. Valen-
tine the carpenter, with his two sons, was making a scaffolding,
designed to serve no less a purpose than that of an altar and a
pulpit. Gregory, the son of Christian the tailor, was to officiate.
at his first mass and preach his first sermon.
Ivo, Valentine's youngest son, a child of six years of age,
assisted his father with a mien which betokened that he consid-
ered his services indispensable. With his bare head and feet he
ran up and down the timbers as nimbly as a squirrel. When a
beam was being lifted, he cried, "Pry under! " as lustily as any
one, put his shoulder to the crowbar, and puffed as if nine-tenths
of the weight fell upon him. Valentine liked to see his little boy
employed. He would tell him to wind the twine on the reel, to
carry the tools where they were wanted, or to rake the chips into
a heap. Ivo obeyed all these directions with the zeal and devo-
tion of a self-sacrificing patriot. Once, when he perched upon the
end of a plank for the purpose of weighing it down, the motion
of the saw shook his every limb, and made him laugh aloud in
spite of himself; he would have fallen off but for the eagerness
with which he held on to his position and endeavored to perform
his task in the most workmanlike manner.
At last the scaffolding was finished. Lewis the saddler was
ready to nail down the carpets and hanging. Ivo offered to help
him too; but being gruffly repelled, he sat down upon his heap
of chips, and looked at the mountains, behind which the sun was
setting in a sea of fire. His father's whistle aroused him, and he
ran to his side.
"Father," said Ivo, "I wish I was in Hochdorf. "
"Why? "
"Because it's so near to heaven, and I should like to climb
up once. »
"You silly boy, it only seems as if heaven began there. From
Hochdorf it is a long way to Stuttgart, and from there it is a
long way to heaven yet.
"How long? "


## p. 965 (#391) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
965
"Well, you can't get there until you die. "
Leading his little son with one hand, and carrying his tools in
the other, Valentine passed through the village. Washing and
scouring was going on everywhere, and chairs and tables stood
before the houses,- for every family expected visitors for the
great occasion of the morrow.
As Valentine passed Christian the tailor's, he held his hand to
his cap, prepared to take it off if anybody should look out.
nobody did so: the place was silent as a cloister. Some farmers'
wives were going in, carrying bowls covered with their aprons,
while others passed out with empty bowls under their arms.
They nodded to each other without speaking: they had brought
wedding-presents for the young clergyman, who was to be mar-
ried to his bride- the Church.
As the vesper-bell rang, Valentine released the hand of his
who quickly folded his hands; Valentine also brought his
hands together over his heavy tools and said an Ave.
Next morning a clear, bright day rose upon the village. Ivo
was dressed by his mother betimes in a new jacket of striped
Manchester cloth, with buttons which he took for silver, and a
newly-washed pair of leathern breeches. He was to carry the
crucifix. Gretchen, Ivo's eldest sister, took him by the hand and
led him into the street, "so as to have room in the house. " Hav-
ing enjoined upon him by no means to go back, she returned
hastily. Wherever he came he found the men standing in knots
in the road. They were but half dressed for the festival, having
no coats on, but displaying their dazzling white shirt-sleeves.
Here and there women or girls were to be seen running from
house to house without bodices, and with their hair half untied.
Ivo thought it cruel in his sister to have pushed him out of the
house as she had done. He would have been delighted to have
appeared like the grown folks,-first in negligée, and then in
full dress amid the tolling of bells and the clang of trumpets;
but he did not dare to return, or even to sit down anywhere,
for fear of spoiling his clothes. He went through the village
almost on tiptoe. Wagon after wagon rumbled in, bringing
farmers and farmers' wives from abroad; at the houses people
welcomed them, and brought chairs to assist them in getting
down. All the world looked as exultingly quiet and glad as a
community preparing to receive a hero who had gone forth from
their midst and was returning after a victory. From the church.


## p. 966 (#392) ############################################

966
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
to the hill-top the road was strewn with flowers and grass, which
sent forth aromatic odors. The squire was seen coming out of
Christian the tailor's, and only covered his head when he found
himself in the middle of the street. Soges had a new sword,
brightly japanned and glittering in the sun.
The squire's wife soon followed, leading her daughter Bar-
bara, who was but six years old, by the hand. Barbara was
dressed in bridal array. She wore the veil and the wreath upon
her head, and a beautiful gown. As an immaculate virgin, she
was intended to represent the bride of the young clergyman,
the Church.
At the first sound of the bell the people in shirt-sleeves dis-
appeared as if by magic. They retired to their houses to finish
their toilet: Ivo went on to the church.
Amid the ringing of all the bells, the procession at last issued
from the church-door. The pennons waved, the band of music
brought from Horb struck up, and the audible prayers of the
men and women mingled with the sound. Ivo, with the school-
master at his side, took the lead, carrying the crucifix. On the
hill the altar was finely decorated; the chalices and the lamps
and the spangled dresses of the saints flashed in the sun, and
the throng of worshipers covered the common and the adjoin-
ing fields as far as the eye could reach. Ivo hardly took courage
to look at the "gentleman," meaning the young clergyman, who,
in his gold-laced robe, and bare head crowned with a golden
wreath, ascended the steps of the altar with pale and sober
mien, bowing low as the music swelled, and folding his small
white hands upon his breast. The squire's Barbara, who car-
ried a burning taper wreathed with rosemary, had gone before
him and took her stand at the side of the altar. The mass
began; and at the tinkling of the bell all fell upon their faces,
and not a sound would have been heard, had not a flight of
pigeons passed directly over the altar with that fluttering and
chirping noise which always accompanies their motion through
the air. For all the world Ivo would not have looked up just
then; for he knew that the Holy Ghost was descending, to effect
the mysterious transubstantiation of the wine into blood and the
bread into flesh, and that no mortal eye can look upon Him
without being struck with blindness.
The chaplain of Horb now entered the pulpit, and solemnly
addressed the "permitiant. "


## p. 967 (#393) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
967
Then the latter took his place. Ivo sat near by, on a stool;
with his right arm resting on his knee, and his chin upon his
hand, he listened attentively. He understood little of the ser-
mon; but his eyes hung upon the preacher's lips, and his mind
followed his intentions if not his thoughts.
When the procession returned to the church amid the re-
newed peal of the bells and triumphant strains of music, Ivo
clasped the crucifix firmly with both his hands; he felt as if
new strength had been given him to carry his God before him.
As the crowd dispersed, every one spoke in raptures of the
"gentleman" and of the happiness of the parents of such a son.
Christian the tailor and his wife came down the covered stairs
of the church-hill in superior bliss. Ordinarily they attracted.
little attention in the village; but on this occasion all crowded
around them with the greatest reverence, to present their con-
gratulations. The young clergyman's mother returned thanks
with tearful eyes; she could scarcely speak for joyous weeping.
Ivo heard his cousin, who had come over from Rexingen, say
that Gregory's parents were now obliged to address their son
with the formal pronoun "they," by which strangers and great
personages are spoken to, instead of the simple "thee and thou,"
by which German villagers converse with each other.
"Is that so, mother? " he asked.
"Of course," was the answer: "he's more than other folks
now. "
With all their enthusiasm, the good people did not forget
the pecuniary advantage gained by Christian the tailor.
It was
said that he need take no further trouble all his life. Cordele,
Gregory's sister, was to be her brother's housekeeper, and her
brother was a fortune to his family and an honor to all the
village.
Translation of Charles Goepp.
The following passages from 'On the Heights are reprinted by consent of
Henry Holt & Co. , holders of the copyright of the translation.
THE PEASANT-NURSE AND THE PRINCE
"THE
HERE, my boy! Now you've seen the sun. May you see it
for seven and seventy years to come, and when they've
run their course, may the Lord grant you a new lease of
life. Last night they lit millions of lamps for your sake. But


## p. 968 (#394) ############################################

968
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
they were nothing to the sun up in heaven, which the Lord him-
self lighted for you this very morning. Be a good boy, always,
so that you may deserve to have the sun shine on you. Yes,
now the angel's whispering to you. Laugh while you sleep!
That's right. There's one angel belongs to you on earth, and
that's your mother! And you're mine, too! You're mine, in-
deed! "
Thus spake Walpurga, the nurse, her voice soft, yet full of
emotion, while she gazed into the face of the child that lay in
her lap. Her soul was already swayed by that mysterious bond
of affection which never fails to develop itself in the heart of
the foster-mother. It is a noble trait in human nature, that we
love those on whom we can confer a kindness. Their whole
life gradually becomes interwoven with our own.
Walpurga became oblivious of herself and of all that was
dear to her in the cottage by the lake. She was now needed
here, where a young life had been assigned to her loving
charge.
She looked up at Mademoiselle Kramer, with beaming, eyes,
and met a joyful glance in return.
"It seems to me," said Walpurga, "that a palace is just like
a church. One has only good and pious thoughts here; and all
the people are so kind and frank. "
Mademoiselle Kramer suddenly smiled and replied:-
"My dear child—»
«< Don't call me 'child'! I'm not a child! I'm a mother! "
"But here, in the great world, you are only a child. A court
is a strange place. Some go hunting, others go fishing; one
builds, another paints; one studies a rôle, another a piece of
music; a dancer learns a new step, an author writes a new
book. Every one in the land is doing something—cooking or
baking, drilling or practicing, writing, painting, or dancing-
simply in order that the king and queen may be entertained. "
"I understand you," said Walpurga; and Mademoiselle Kra-
mer continued:-
"My family has been in the service of the court for sixteen
generations; "six would have been the right number, but six-
teen sounded so much better; -"my father is the governor of
the summer palace, and I was born there. I know all about the
court, and can teach you a great deal. "
"And I'll be glad to learn," interposed Walpurga.


## p. 969 (#395) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
969
"Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed towards
you?
Take my word for it, a palace contains people of all
sorts, good and bad. All the vices abound in such a place.
And there are many other matters of which you have no idea,
and of which you will, I trust, ever remain ignorant. But all
you meet are wondrous polite. Try to remain just as you now
are, and when you leave the palace, let it be as the same Wal-
purga you were when you came here. "
Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her?
Word came that the Queen was awake and desired Walpurga
to bring the Crown Prince to her.
Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer, and
two waiting-women, she proceeded to the Queen's bedchamber.
The Queen lay there, calm and beautiful, and with a smile of
greeting, turned her face towards those who had entered. The
curtains had been partially drawn aside, and a broad, slanting ray
of light shone into the apartment, which seemed still more peace-
ful than during the breathless silence of the previous night.
«< Good morning! " said the Queen, with a voice full of feeling.
"Let me have my child! " She looked down at the babe that
rested in her arms, and then, without noticing any one in the
room, lifted her glance on high and faintly murmured:—
"This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight! "
All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apart-
ment except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in at
the window.
"Have you slept well? " inquired the Queen. Walpurga was
glad the Queen had asked a question, for now she could answer.
Casting a hurried glance at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said:
"Yes, indeed! Sleep's the first, the last, and the best thing
in the world. "
"She's clever," said the Queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in
French.
Walpurga's heart sank within her. Whenever she heard them
speak French, she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they
had put on an invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the
fairy-tale, and could thus speak without being heard.
"Did the Prince sleep well? " asked the Queen.
Walpurga passed her hand over her face, as if to brush away
a spider that had been creeping there. The Queen doesn't speak
of her "child" or her "son," but only of "the Crown Prince. "


## p. 970 (#396) ############################################

970
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Walpurga answered: -
"Yes, quite well, thank God! That is, I couldn't hear him,
and I only wanted to say that I'd like to act towards the-" she
could not say "the Prince"-"that is, towards him, as I'd do
with my own child. We began on the very first day. My mother
taught me that. Such a child has a will of its own from the
very start, and it won't do to give way to it. It won't do to
take it from the cradle, or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there
ought to be regular times for all those things. It'll soon get used
to that, and it won't harm it either, to let it cry once in a while.
On the contrary, that expands the chest. "
"Does he cry? " asked the Queen.
The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once
began to cry most lustily.
"Take him and quiet him," begged the Queen.
The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped
crying.
"He will have a good voice of command," said he, kissing the
Queen's hand.
Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kra-
mer were sent back to their apartments.
The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been
received, and of the sponsors who had been decided upon. She
was perfectly satisfied with the arrangements that had been
made.
When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the
child in the cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite
agitated.
"There are no angels in this world! " said she. "They're all
just like the rest of us, and who knows but—” She was vexed
at the Queen: "Why won't she listen patiently when her child
cries? We must take all our children bring us, whether it be
joy or pain. "
She stepped out into the passage-way and heard the tones of
the organ in the palace-chapel. For the first time in her life
these sounds displeased her. "It don't belong in the house,"
thought she, "where all sorts of things are going on. The
church ought to stand by itself.
"
When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there.
Mademoiselle Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to
the Queen.


## p. 971 (#397) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
971
Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the
Queen. " The elegantly attired person looked at her in amaze-
ment, while Mademoiselle Kramer explained to her that this was
the dressmaker to her Majesty the Queen, and that he had come
to take her measure for three new dresses.
"Am I to wear city clothes? "
"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood,
and can order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that
you like best. "
"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday
suit too.
Sunday clothes on week-days-that won't do. "
"At court one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her
Majesty drives out again you will have to accompany her. "
"All right, then. I won't object. "
While he took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly,
and he was at last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he
might go on with his work. Putting his measure into his pocket,
he informed Mademoiselle Kramer that he had ordered an exact
model, and that the master of ceremonies had favored him with
several drawings, so that there might be no doubt of success.
Finally he asked permission to see the Crown Prince. Made-
moiselle Kramer was about to let him do so, but Walpurga ob-
jected. "Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall
look at it just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else
the child will never turn out the right sort of man. ”
The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having po-
litely hinted to him that nothing could be done with the super-
stition of the lower orders, and that it would not do to irritate
the nurse.
This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first seri-
ous reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not under-
stand why she was so willing to make an exhibition of the
child. «<
Nothing does a child more harm than to let strangers
look at it in its sleep, and a tailor at that. "
All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are
held up to scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she
began singing:-
"Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!
A snail was chasing a tailor home.
And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,
The snail would surely have caught him at last. "


## p. 972 (#398) ############################################

972
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had
lowered her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort
to mollify the latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked: -
"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford
you no pleasure ? »
"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own
sake, but for that of others, who dress me to please themselves.
It's all the same to me, however! I've given myself up to them,
and suppose I must submit. "
"May I come in? " asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma
entered the room. Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she
said:-
"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the
Highlands, seven hours distance from your village. I know it
well, and once sailed over the lake with your father. Does he
still live? "
"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its
dead. "
"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image
of him. "
"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father.
The court tailor-I mean the court doctor- knew him too.
Yes, search the land through, you couldn't have found a better
man than my father, and no one can help but admit it. "
«Yes:
I've often heard as much. "
"May I ask your Ladyship's name? "
"Countess Wildenort. "
"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember
my mother's mentioning it. Your father was known as a very
Has he been dead a long while? "
kind and benevolent man.
"No, he is still living. "
"Is he here too? "
"No. "
"And as what are you here, Countess? "
"As maid of honor. "
"And what is that? "
Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part
of the country, would be called a companion. "
<<
And is your father willing to let them use you
"Indeed!
that way? "
Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:—


## p. 973 (#399) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
973
"I wished to ask you something-Can you write? "
"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how. "
"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming
here. Now, whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate
your letter to me, and I will write whatever you tell me to. "
"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer,
timidly; "and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble
yourself. "
"No, the Countess will write for me.
Shall it be now? "
"Certainly. "
While she was in the
But Walpurga had to go to the child.
next room, Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged
each other in conversation.
When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and
at once began to dictate.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE FIRST FALSE STEP
From On the Heights'
THE
HE ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining win-
ter garden. The intendant now informed Irma of his plan,
and was delighted to find that she approved of it. At the
end of the garden he intended to erect a large fountain, orna-
mented with antique groups. In the foreground he meant to
have trees and shrubbery and various kinds of rocks, so that
none could approach too closely; and the background was to be
a Grecian landscape, painted in the grand style.
Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed,
"We are all of us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We
are kept busy stewing, roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order
to prepare a dish that may please their Majesties. "
The intendant made no reply.
"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were
at the lake, we spoke of the fact that man possessed the advan-
tage of being able to change his dress, and thus to alter his
appearance? While yet a child, masquerading was my greatest
delight. The soul wings its flight in callow infancy. A bal
costume is indeed one of the noblest fruits of culture. The love
of coquetry which is innate with all of us displays itself there
undisguised. "


## p. 974 (#400) ############################################

974
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The intendant took his leave.
While walking away, his mind.
was filled with his old thoughts about Irma.
"No," said he to himself, such a woman would be a constant
strain, and would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all
day long. She would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud.
No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in,
although many supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it
was well known that she had stood for the model of the statue
that surmounted the arsenal. They were busy conjecturing how
she could assume that character without violating the social
proprieties.
Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked
assiduously. She was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far
greater than that she had experienced years ago when looking
forward to her first ball. She could not reconcile herself to the
idea of preparing for the fête so long beforehand, and would
like to have had it take place in the very next hour, so that
something else might be taken up at once. The long delay
tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the
preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoy-
ment. Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to
do, and this prevented the thoughts of the festival from enga-
ging her mind during the day. It was only in the evening that
she would recompense herself for the day's work, by giving full
swing to her fancy.
The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost
finished. High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was
still chiseling at the figure, and would now and then hurry down
to observe the general effect, and then hastily mount the ladder
again in order to add a touch here or there. Irma scarcely
ventured to look up at this effigy of herself in Grecian cos-
tume-transformed and yet herself. The idea of being thus
translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a tremor,
half joy, half fear.
It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously
at a copy of a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near
her stood her preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All
was silent; not a sound was heard save now and then the pick-
ing or scratching of the chisel.
At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing
a deep breath, said:-


## p. 975 (#401) ############################################

BERTHOLD AUERBACH
975
"There that will do. One can never finish. I shall not
put another stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would
only injure it. It is done. "
In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm
content seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked
at him earnestly and said:-
"You are
a happy man; but I can imagine that you are
still unsatisfied. I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael
Angelo was ever satisfied with the work he had completed.
The remnant of dissatisfaction which an artist feels at the com-
pletion of a work is the germ of a new creation. "
The master nodded his approval of her words.
His eyes
expressed his thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his
hands. Then he placed himself near Irma and looked at her,
while telling her that in every work an artist parts with a portion
of his life; that the figure will never again inspire the same feel-
ings that it did while in the workshop. Viewed from afar, and
serving as an ornament, no regard would be had to the care
bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in his
work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately
determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of
details will influence the general effect.
While the master was speaking, the King was announced.
Irma hurriedly spread a damp cloth over her clay model.
The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not
to allow herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up,
she went on with her modeling. The King was earnest in his
praise of the master's work.
"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity
what our days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries. "
Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart
throbbed. The plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed
to gaze at her with a strange expression.
"I should like to compare the finished work with the first
models," said the king to the artist.
"I regret that the experimental models are in my small ate-
lier.
Does your Majesty wish me to have them brought here ? »
"If you will be good enough to do so. "
The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid
steps the King mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous.
voice:


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976
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
"I ascend into heaven-I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I
kiss your image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips,
enduring beyond all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity. "
He stood aloft and kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not
help looking up, and just at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell
on the King and on the face of the marble figure, making it
glow as if with life.
Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away
into eternity.
The King descended and placed himself beside her. His
breathing was short and quick. She did not dare to look up;
she stood as silent and as immovable as a statue. Then the
King embraced her-and living lips kissed each other.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE
From On the Heights'
H
ANSEI received various offers for his cottage, and was always
provoked when it was spoken of as a "tumble-down old
shanty. " He always looked as if he meant to say, "Don't
take it ill of me, good old house: the people only abuse you so
that they may get you cheap. " Hansei stood his ground. He
would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and
besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth
something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands,
with the design of putting a servant of his, who intended to
marry in the fall, in possession of the place.
All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,-doubly so
since they were about to leave, and Hansei said:—
"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy
behind me. I'd like to make it up with the innkeeper. ”
Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along;
that she had really been the cause of the trouble, and that if
the innkeeper wanted to scold any one, he might as well scold
her too.
Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted
upon it.
It was in the last evening in August that they went up into
the village. Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to


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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
977
They groped about
Dachsel and Wachsel,
Hansei called out:
the inn. There was no light in the room.
the porch, but not a soul was to be seen.
however, were making a heathenish racket.
"Is there no one at home? "
"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the
dark room.
"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and
his wife were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive
them if they've done him any wrong; and to say that they for-
give him too, and wish him luck. "
"All right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again
slammed to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again.
Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward.
"Do you know who that was? " asked Hansei.
"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself. "
"Well, we've done all we could. "
They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They list-
ened to the lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every
hour since childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did
not say a word about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last
broke silence:-"Our new home isn't out of the world: we can
often come here. "
When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of
the villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but
every one added, "I'll see you again in the morning. "
Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough
before; but now he was doubly so, for he had made a man of
his neighbor, or at all events had helped to do so. He did not
give way to tender sentiment. He condensed all his knowledge.
of life into a few sentences, which he delivered himself of most
bluntly.
"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of serv-
ants now.