No More Learning

"Oh! was it for this," wept Gertrude, "that I have taken
such pains to conserver myself all these years? Must I be shot
here in my own drawing-room after all? "
-
On this they fell into each other's arms, and howled so terri-
bly that you could hear them above all the din of the battle.
For you have no idea of the hurly-burly that went on now, dear
auditor! It went prr-prr-poof, piff-schnetterdeng― schnetterdeng
boom-booroom — boom-booroom - boom - all confusedly and
higgledy-piggledy; and the mouse king and the mice squeaked
and screamed; and then again Nutcracker's powerful voice was
heard shouting words of command and issuing important orders,
and he was seen striding along amongst his battalions in the
thick of the fire.
Pantaloon had made several most brilliant cavalry charges,
and covered himself with glory. But Fritz's hussars were sub-
jected by the mice-to a heavy fire of very evil-smelling shot,
which made horrid spots on their red tunics: this caused them to
hesitate, and hang rather back for a time. Pantaloon made them
take ground to the left, in échelon; and in the excitement of the
moment, he, with his dragoons and cuirassiers, executed a some-
what analogous movement. That is to say, they brought up the
―――


## p. 7401 (#199) ###########################################

ERNST THEODOR WILHELM HOFFMANN
7401
right shoulder, wheeled to the left, and marched home to their
quarters. This had the effect of bringing the battery of artillery
on the footstool into imminent danger; and it was not long before
a large body of exceedingly ugly mice delivered such a vigorous
assault on this position that the whole of the footstool, with the
guns and gunners, fell into the enemy's hands. Nutcracker
seemed much disconcerted, and ordered his right wing to com-
mence a retrograde movement. A soldier of your experience, my
dear
knows well that such a movement is almost tanta-
mount to a regular retreat, and you grieve with me, in anticipa-
tion, for the disaster which threatens the army of Marie's beloved
little Nutcracker. But turn your glance in the other direction,
and look at this left wing of Nutcracker's, where all is still
going well, and you will see that there is yet much hope for the
commander-in-chief and his cause.
During the hottest part of the engagement, masses of mouse
cavalry had been quietly debouching from under the chest of
drawers, and had subsequently made a most determined advance
upon the left wing of Nutcracker's force, uttering loud and hor-
rible queakings. But what a reception they met with! Very
slowly, as the nature of the terrain necessitated (for the ledge at
the bottom of the cupboard had to be passed), the regiment of
motto figures, commanded by two Chinese emperors, advanced
and formed square. These fine, brilliantly uniformed troops, con-
sisting of gardeners, Tyrolese, Tungooses, hair-dressers, harlequins,
Cupids, lions, tigers, unicorns, and monkeys, fought with the
utmost courage, coolness, and steady endurance. This bataillon
d'élite would have wrested the victory from the enemy had not
one of his cavalry captains, pushing forward in a rash and fool-
hardy manner, made a charge upon one of the Chinese emperors
and bitten off his head. This Chinese emperor, in his fall,
knocked over and smothered a couple of Tungooses and a uni-
corn; and this created a gap, through which the enemy effected
a rush which resulted in the whole battalion being bitten to
But the enemy gained little advantage by this; for as
soon as one of the mouse cavalry soldiers bit one of these brave
adversaries to death, he found that there was a small piece of
printed paper sticking in his throat, of which he died in a mo-
ment Still, this was of small advantage to Nutcracker's army,
which, having once commenced a retrograde movement, went on
retreating farther and farther, suffering greater and greater loss.


## p. 7402 (#200) ###########################################

ERNST THEODOR WILHELM HOFFMANN
7402
So that the unfortunate Nutcracker found himself driven back
close to the front of the cupboard, with a very small remnant of
his army.
"Bring up the reserves! Pantaloon! Scaramouch! Drummer!
where the devil have you got to? " shouted Nutcracker, who was
still reckoning on reinforcements from the cupboard. And there
did, in fact, advance a small contingent of brown gingerbread
men and women, with gilt faces, hats, and helmets; but they laid
about them so clumsily that they never hit any of the enemy, and
soon knocked off the cap of their commander-in-chief, Nutcracker
himself. And the enemy's chasseurs soon bit their legs off, so
that they tumbled topsy-turvy, and killed several of Nutcracker's
companions-in-arms into the bargain.
Nutcracker was now hard pressed, and closely hemmed in by
the enemy, and in a position of extreme peril. He tried to jump
the bottom ledge of the cupboard, but his legs were not long
enough. Clara and Gertrude had fainted; so they could give him
no assistance. Hussars and heavy dragoons came charging up
at him, and he shouted in wild despair:-
"A horse! a horse! My kingdom for a horse! "
At this moment two of the enemy's riflemen seized him by
his wooden cloak, and the king of the mice went rushing up to
him, squeaking in triumph out of all his seven throats.
Marie could contain herself no longer. "O my poor Nut-
cracker! " she sobbed; took off her left shoe without very dis-
tinctly knowing what she was about, and threw it as hard as she
could into the thick of the enemy, straight at their king.
Instantly everything vanished and disappeared. All was
silence. Nothing to be seen. But Marie felt a more stinging
pain than before in her left arm, and fell on the floor insensible.


## p. 7403 (#201) ###########################################

7403
JAMES HOGG
(1770-1835)
NE of the great names in modern Scottish Border poetry is
James Hogg, better known as the Ettrick Shepherd; a child
of nature, nourished in the Border glens and beside Border
streams, on the stories and traditions of Scotland. Born in 1770 in
Ettrick, which is situated in one of the most mountainous and pict-
uresque districts in the South of Scotland, when he was thirty he had
had but half a year's schooling; for he was sent to fold the sheep
when but seven years old, and at sixteen attained to the dignity of
shepherd, in which capacity he remained.
until he met Sir Walter Scott (1801), who
felt that in him he had found "a true son
of nature and genius, hardly conscious of
his power," and advised him to publish his
poems.

At this time Hogg is described by the
son of his master as
"above middle height, of faultless symmetry of
form; his face was round and full, and of a
ruddy complexion, with bright blue eyes that
beamed with gayety, glee, and good-humor. His
head was covered with a singular profusion of
light-brown hair, which he was obliged to wear
coiled up under his hat. On entering church on
a Sunday, he used, on lifting his hat, to raise his right hand to assist a
graceful shake of his head in laying back his long hair, which rolled down
his back and fell almost to his loins. And every female eye was upon him,
as with light step he ascended the stair to the gallery where he sat. "
JAMES HOGG
From 1810 to 1816 he lived in Edinburgh, but then went back to
Eltrive Lake in Yarrow, where his best verse was inspired. Of his
early work, which was done in Blackhouse Glen, far from human
life, alone with his lambs and dogs, the poet says: "For several
years my compositions consisted wholly of songs and ballads, made
up for the lasses to sing in chorus; and a proud man I was when
I first heard the rosy nymphs chanting my uncouth strains, and jeer-
ing me by the still clear appellation of Jamie the Poeter. » Hogg's
poetry, which is happiest when it has a strong flavor of dialect,
is notable for its fanciful humor or rollicking spirit of song, its love


## p. 7404 (#202) ###########################################

7404
JAMES HOGG
<
of the weird and wonderful, its pictures of brownies, fairies, and
country life; but his ambition to rival in their own way the greatest
poets of his time was curiously egotistic. The Queen's Wake,' his
most ambitious effort, was written in imitation of Scott's historical
romances, and he boasted that he had "beaten him in his own line. "
Though a most prolific writer, the greater part of his verse is charm-
ing. He died at Eltrive Lake, November 21st, 1835, aged sixty-five.
WHEN MAGGY GANGS AWAY
H, WHAT will a' the lads do
OH When Maggy gangs away?
Oh, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
There's no a heart in a' the glen
That disna dread the day:
Oh, what will a' the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
Young Jock has ta'en the hill for't,
A waefu' wight is he;
Poor Harry's ta'en the bed for't,
An' laid him down to dee;
An' Sandy's gane unto the kirk,
An' learnin' fast to pray:
An' oh, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away?
The young laird o' the Lang-Shaw
Has drunk her health in wine;
The priest has said-in confidence -
The lassie was divine,
An' that is mair in maiden's praise
Than ony priest should say:
But oh, what will the lads do
When Maggy gangs away
y?
The wailing in our green glen
That day will quaver high;
"Twill draw the redbreast frae the wood,
The laverock frae the sky;
The fairies frae their beds o' dew
Will rise an' join the lay:
An' hey! what a day 'twill be
When Maggy gangs away!


## p. 7405 (#203) ###########################################

JAMES HOGG
7405
B
THE SKYLARK
IRD of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place:
Oh to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay, and loud,
Far in the downy cloud;
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth!
Where, on thy dewy wing-
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven; thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar singing away!
Then when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling-place-
Oh to abide in the desert with thee!
Μ'
DONALD M'DONALD
Air-"Woo'd an' married an' a'. »
Y NAME it is Donald M'Donald,
I live in the Hielands sae grand;
I hae follow'd our banner, and will do,
Wherever my Maker has land.
When rankit amang the blue bonnets,
Nae danger can fear me ava:
I ken that my brethren around me
Are either to conquer or fa'.
Brogues an' brochen an' a',
Brochen an' brogues an' a':
An' is nae her very weel aff,
Wi' her brogues an' brochen an' a'?


## p. 7406 (#204) ###########################################

7406
JAMES HOGG
What though we befriendit young Charlie?
To tell it I dinna think shame :
Poor lad! he came to us but barely,
An' reckoned our mountains his hame.
'Twas true that our reason forbade us,
But tenderness carried the day;
Had Geordie come friendless amang us,
Wi' him we had a' gane away,
Sword an' buckler an' a',
Buckler an' sword an' a';
Now for George we'll encounter the Devil,
Wi' sword an' buckler an' a'!
An' oh, I wad eagerly press him
The keys o' the East to retain;
For should he gie up the possession,
We'll soon hae to force them again.
Than yield up an inch wi' dishonor,
Though it were my finishing blow,
He aye may depend on M'Donald,
Wi' his Hielanders a' in a row,
Knees an' elbows an' a',
Elbows an' knees an' a';
Depend upon Donald M'Donald,
His knees an' elbows an' a'!
Wad Bonaparte land at Fort William,
Auld Europe nae langer should grane;
I laugh when I think how we'd gall him,
Wi' bullet, wi' steel, an' wi' stane;
Wi' rocks o' the Nevis an' Gairy
We'd rattle off frae our shore,
Or lull him asleep in a cairny,
An' sing him-'Lochaber no more! '
Stanes an' bullets an' a',
Bullets an' stanes an' a';
We'll finish the Corsican callan
Wi' stanes an' bullets an' a'!
For the Gordon is good in a hurry,
An' Campbell is steel to the bane,
An' Grant, an' M'Kenzie, an' Murray,
An' Cameron will hurkle to nane;
The Stuart is sturdy an' loyal,
An' sae is M'Leod an' M'Kay;


## p. 7407 (#205) ###########################################

JAMES HOGG
7407
An' I their gude brither M'Donald,
Shall ne'er be last in the fray!
Brogues an' brochen an' a',
Brochen an' brogues an' a';
An' up wi' the bonnie blue bonnet,
The kilt an' the feather an' a'!
WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME
NOME, all ye jolly shepherds,
COME That whistle through the glen
I'll tell ye of a secret
That courtiers dinna ken:
What is the greatest bliss
That the tongue o' man can name?
'Tis to woo a bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloaming and the mirk,
When the kye comes hame.
'Tis not beneath the coronet,
Nor canopy of state,
'Tis not on couch of velvet,
Nor arbor of the great-
'Tis beneath the spreading birk,
In the glen without the name,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
-
There the blackbird bigs his nest,
For the mate he lo'es to see,
And on the topmost bough
Oh! a happy bird is he!
Where he pours his melting ditty
And love is a' the theme,
And he'll woo his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
When the blewart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonny luken gowan
Has fauldit up her ee,


## p. 7408 (#206) ###########################################

7408
JAMES HOGG
Then the laverock, frae the blue lift,
Drops down and thinks nae shame
To woo his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
See yonder pawkie shepherd,
That lingers on the hill:
His ewes are in the fauld,
An' his lambs are lying still,
Yet he downa gang to bed,
For his heart is in a flame,
To meet his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
When the little wee bit heart
Rises high in the breast,
An' the little wee bit starn
Rises red in the east,
Oh, there's a joy sae dear
That the heart can hardly frame,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
Then since all Nature joins
In this love without alloy,
Oh wha wad prove a traitor
To Nature's dearest joy?
Or wha wad choose a crown,
Wi' its perils and its fame,
And miss his bonnie lassie
When the kye comes hame?


## p. 7408 (#207) ###########################################



## p. 7408 (#208) ###########################################


LUDVIG HOLBERG.


## p. 7408 (#209) ###########################################

1
1.


## p. 7408 (#210) ###########################################




## p. 7409 (#211) ###########################################

7409
LUDVIG HOLBERG
(1684-1754)
BY WILLIAM MORTON PAYNE
T
HE literature of modern Scandinavia was, like that of modern
Germany, slow to emerge from the intellectual darkness of
the Middle Ages; and the writer who ushers in the litera-
ture of modern Denmark was a boy of sixteen when the seventeenth
century rounded to its close. In Scandinavia, as in Germany, the
Reformation had indeed been followed by a period of intellectual
ferment, but the energies thus liberated found their chief vent in
theological and political discussion. In Danish literature this period
is known as the age of learning; but it was an age which left
humanism clean out of the question, and even its learning was of
the narrow scholastic type. Into the world thus busied, which was
destined during his lifetime and largely owing to his activity to
undergo so complete an intellectual transformation, Ludvig Holberg
was born at Bergen, Norway, December 3d, 1684. The accident of
his birth in this Hansa town has led the Norwegians to claim him for
their own, and to dispute his title as the Father of Danish Literature.
The facts are, of course, that Norway and Denmark were politically
one until 1814, with a common language, and a common intellectual
centre in Copenhagen. Nearly all the literature produced, whether
by Danes or Norwegians, saw the light in the Danish capital, and
is properly to be described as Danish literature. Holberg saw Nor-
way for the last time in 1705; it was in Denmark that he lived and
wrote, and made for himself the greatest name in all Scandinavian
literature.
The principal authority for the facts of Holberg's life, except for
the closing years, is a sort of autobiography, originally published in
his 'Opuscula Latina,' and afterwards translated into Danish with
the title Trende Epistler' (Three Epistles). This little volume is
candid, concise, and extremely readable, mingling jest with earnest
in an altogether delightful fashion. The touch of the writer of satir-
ical comedy is frequently seen, and the author describes his own
foibles with the same sort of good-humor that goes to the creation
of the types immortalized in 'Den Danske Skueplads,' or collection
of his plays. From this autobiography we learn that Ludvig was the
youngest of twelve children, and was left an orphan at the age of
XIII-464


## p. 7410 (#212) ###########################################

7410
LUDVIG HOLBERG
ten.
He went to school in Bergen, and was then sent to Copenhagen
for an examination. Being without the money needful for university
study, he soon returned to Norway, where he taught for a year in a
clergyman's family, incidentally preaching on occasion in his master's
place, and giving great satisfaction in the latter capacity by the
brevity of his discourses. With the money thus earned, he went
back to Copenhagen, studied French and Italian, and passed a fairly
creditable examination in philosophy and theology. In the autumn
of 1704, with sixty rigsdaler in his pocket, he set out to see the
world.
Holberg's first glimpse of foreign lands was gained in about two
months, and at cost of no little hardship. He got as far as Amster-
dam and Aachen, and then home again. This was the first of the
five foreign journeys that he made in about twenty years. In itself it
was unimportant, but all the five taken together were of great sig-
nificance both for him and his country. For from these excursions
into the larger world of thought and action, he brought back nothing
less than the great gift of European culture to bestow upon his
fellow-countrymen; through him the light of the modern intelligence
shone upon the darkness of the North. The freedom of the human
spirit was asserting itself in many directions abroad; at home it was
held in the shackles of tradition. Holberg learned of such men as
Rabelais and Montaigne, Descartes and Bayle, Newton and Locke,
Leibnitz and Puffendorf, Spinoza and Grotius; and felt called upon
to become their interpreter to his fellow-countrymen. To this task
he gave his life; and, thanks to his efforts, the Scandinavian coun-
tries, in spite of their place apart, have never lagged far behind the
rest of Europe. But it is eminently characteristic of their literature,
from that time to the present, that its main inspiration has been thus
brought from without; and Ibsen in 1864, leaving his country because
its air seemed too sultry to breathe, but repeated the experience of
Holberg a century and a half earlier.
Holberg's second outing took him to Oxford, where he remained
from 1705 to 1707, pursuing his studies and supporting himself by
teaching music and the languages. It has been recently pointed out,
mainly from internal evidence, that Addison was probably numbered
among the friends made during this English sojourn, and that the
germs of several of the comedies may be found in the Spectator and
Tatler. The stay in Oxford was a turning-point in Holberg's life, in
the sense that when he returned it was to Copenhagen, not to Nor-
way, and that he never thereafter set foot upon his native soil. After
lecturing for a while in Copenhagen, he went abroad for a winter
in Dresden, Leipzig, and Halle. Returning in 1708, he spent the six
years following in teaching, and during this period published his first


## p. 7411 (#213) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7411
work, an introduction to European history. The publication of this
work got the author into a literary controversy which is mainly sig-
nificant because it first aroused Holberg's consciousness of his posses-
sion of the gift of satire, and helped prepare the way for 'Peder
Paars and the comedies.
The dedication to the King of a historical work of minor import-
ance won for Holberg an appointment as professor extraordinary at
the University, a purely honorary post. He thought it a good deal
of a joke that he should be appointed to lecture at the University, in
view of his opinion of the subjects most industriously pursued in that
institution. "I could," he says, "by good luck frame a syllogism
after a fashion, but could by no means be sure whether it was in
Barbara or Elizabeth. " The question of subsistence in his unsalaried
position was, however, anything but a joke; for his new dignity
debarred him from giving private instruction, hitherto his mainstay.
But there came presently a traveling stipend of one hundred rigs-
daler annually; and thus slenderly provided, he set out in 1714 upon
his fourth foreign journey, remaining more than two years away from
home, for the most part in France and Italy. In the summer of 1716
he made his way home, and his Wanderjahre were over.
The one
foreign journey subsequently made by him took place ten years later,
when he was at the height of his fame.
For two years after his return, Holberg lived in great poverty. At
this time he published a treatise upon the law of nations, basing his
work upon that of Grotius and Puffendorf. At last a chair became
vacant in the University, and he was called to fill it. In 1718 he was
installed in his professorship, and for the rest of his life remained,
occupying higher and higher positions, in close official connection
with the University. Metaphysics was the subject at first assigned
him, and so with a wry face he became, and remained for two years,
philosophe malgré lui. Brandes very plausibly finds in this enforced
and distasteful occupation a main cause of the irony which was
planted deep within his soul, and the active impulse which led to the
development of his genius in its most characteristic phase.
'Peder Paars,' the first of the works to which Holberg mainly owes
his fame, was published in 1719-20. It is a mock epic in four books,
and extends to upwards of six thousand lines. It is written in rhymed
iambic hexameters of a very pedestrian gait. Although a poem in
form, it is as destitute of the spirit of true poetry as is the 'Lutrin ›
of Boileau, which it suggests. Holberg was not a poet, and could not
become one. The gifts of irony and satire he had in the richest
measure, his humor was all but the deepest, and his imagination was
vivid upon every side but the poetic. His intellectual and human
sympathies embraced nearly all the life and thought of mankind. Hel


## p. 7412 (#214) ###########################################

7412
LUDVIG HOLBERG
was of the Voltairean type, the incarnation of intelligence tempered
by sympathy; and he even had his enthusiasms, although the super-
ficial student might fail to find them. Most of these qualities appear
in this his first great work, which recounts the adventures of a grocer
of Callundborg upon a journey to Aarhus. It pretends to be written
by one Hans Mickelson, and is provided with notes by an equally
mythical Just Justesen. Speaking through the mask of the latter, the
author declares that it is the object of his work "to ridicule the many
ballads that are with so much eagerness read by the common people.
. He has also wished to poke fun at heroic verse. "
The poem
is from beginning to end a travesty of the heroic epic, employing
and turning to ridicule the supernatural machinery and the rhetori-
cal devices of the classics of antiquity. Both the one and the other
seemed absurd enough to this shrewd humorist, and probably the use
to which the classics were put in an institution like the University of
Copenhagen was sufficient to repress any impulse on the part of any-
body to enter into their real spirit.
In the course of his journeyings, Peder Paars is wrecked upon the
island of Anholt; and the following passage, relating to the inhabit-
ants of that spot, may be given to illustrate the poem:-
"Anholt the island's name, in answer he did say,
And daily for seafarers the islanders do pray,
That they may come to shore. And answer oft is given,
For hither storm-tossed ships quite frequently are driven.
Good people are they now, although I fear 'tis true
That they in former days were but a sorry crew.
A very aged man, once guest of mine, I know,
Who told me of a priest that lived here long ago,-
His name I do not give; it need not mentioned be,-
Who for a child baptized a daler charged as fee;
-
And when 'twas asked of him upon what grounds, and why,
He made this double charge, he boldly gave reply:—
(Two marks I am allowed for each child I baptize,
And two for burial. Now, rarely 'tis one dies
Of sickness in his bed, for hanged are nearly all,
And thus my rightful dues I get, or not at all. '
Of yore their lives were evil, as we from this may tell,-
It little touches me, for here I do not dwell,-
But now we see that better they grow from day to day,
For Christian lives they lead, and shipwrecks are their stay. "
A certain worthy Anholter felt so much aggrieved at this descrip-
tion that he petitioned to have the poem burned by the hangman.
Another passage, which gave particular offense to the solemn pedants
of the University, thus describes an academic disputation:-


## p. 7413 (#215) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7413
"The entire hall was seen with syllogisms quaking,
While some their outstretched hands, and others fists were shaking.
From off the learned brows salt perspiration ran,
And most profusely from a venerable man
Who in the pulpit stood. There flew his head about
Greek-Latin shafts so thick, one could no longer doubt
That nothing less than life and honor were at stake;
Since for no trifle men would such a tumult make.
Tell me, Calliope, what deep, what grievous wrong
Hath to such passionate wrath stirred up this learned throng?
What ails these sages now, whose minds the world illume,
That here, like men made drunk or mad, they shout and fume? »
In spite of the indignation aroused by such passages, the poem
escaped burning and the author punishment. Tradition says that the
King read it and found it amusing. And the public read it as no
Danish book had ever been read before. The author had his reward
in the fame that suddenly came to him, and in the proud conscious-
ness that posterity would atone for the injustice done him by his
enemies. Some years later, in verses that come as near to being
genuine poetry as any that Holberg ever penned, he referred to him-
self and his work in the following prophetic terms:
―
"Perchance, when in the grave his body moldering lies,
Perchance, when with his death the voice of envy dies,
Another tone may swell, struck from another chord,
And things now hidden men may view with sight restored.
Admit, the work does not display the scholar's lore,
Admit that 'tis a fantasy, and nothing more:
Although of little use, yet with a work of art
For many learnèd books the wise man will not part. »
We now come to the most fruitful period of Holberg's activity;
the creative period that gave to Denmark a national stage, and to
universal literature a series of comedies that can be classed with
those of Molière alone. The comedies of Aristophanes and Shake-
speare are of course out of court: they constitute a distinct literary
species, with a divineness all its own. We owe the comedies of Hol-
berg to the fact that King Frederik IV. was fond of the theatre,
and the other fact that the foreign companies that gave plays in
Copenhagen were not exactly successful in suiting the public taste.
In this emergency, it was suggested that Danish plays might be vent-
ured upon as an experiment, and Holberg was asked to try his hand
at their composition. After some hesitation he consented, and soon
had a batch of five comedies ready for the players. They were
received by the public with great enthusiasm; and others followed in


## p. 7414 (#216) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7414
quick succession, until no less than twenty-eight had been produced,
all within a period of about five years.
When we consider the tech-
nical finish of these comedies, their wealth of invention and humor,
and the variety of the figures that live and breathe in their pages,
we must reckon their production as one of the most astonishing feats
in the history of literature.
The theatre was opened to the public in 1722. Six years later,
Copenhagen was almost wholly destroyed by fire, and there was an
end of theatre-going. In 1730 Christian VI. came to the throne; the
court became strictly puritanical, and the genial days of play-acting
were over. In 1747, under Frederik V. , the theatre was reopened, and
for it Holberg wrote six new plays, making thirty-four in all. These
plays, to which the author himself gave the collective name of 'Den
Danske Skueplads' (The Danish Stage), are the most important con-
tribution yet made by the Scandinavian genius to literature.
To the student of Shakespeare or of Molière, the chronological
order of the plays is a matter of the greatest consequence. To the
student of Holberg it has no significance whatever. The first of them
all is as finished and mature a production as any of those that come
after. The only fact worth noting, perhaps, is that the comedies of
the later period are less effective than those of the earlier; for the
intervening score of years seem to have taken from the author's hand
something of its cunning. One group of the comedies, six or eight
in number, deal with fantastic and allegorical subjects. Here we
may mention the 'Plutus,' an imitation of Aristophanes; 'Ulysses von
Ithacia,' a jumble of incidents connected with the Trojan War; and
'Melampe,' a parody of French tragedy, and the only one of the
comedies written largely in verse. Another group deals with the
popular beliefs of a superstitious age,- beliefs very real in Holberg's
day, and requiring considerable boldness to ridicule. This group of
half a dozen includes 'Det Arabiske Pulver' (The Arabian Powder),
concerned with the impostures of alchemy; 'Uden Hoved og Hale'
(Without Head or Tail), which contrasts the two types of excessive
credulity and excessive skepticism; and 'Hexerie' (Witchcraft), the
hero of which makes a profitable business out of the Black Art.
Many of the comedies depict "humors" in the Jonsonian sense, as
'Den Stundeslöse' (The Busy Man); 'Den Vogelsindede' (The Fickle-
Minded Woman); 'Jean de France,' depicting the dandy just returned
from Paris; Jacob von Tyboe,' depicting the braggart soldier; and
'Den Honnette Ambition' (The Proper Ambition), depicting the per-
sonality of the title-seeking snob. Another group of the plays de-
pend for their interest upon pure intrigue; and of these 'Henrich og
Pernille is perhaps the best, because the most symmetrical in con-
struction.


## p. 7415 (#217) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7415
Four of the comedies deserve more extended mention, because
they display Holberg's highest powers of humorous satire, his keen-
est penetration, and his deepest moral earnestness. They are 'Den
Politiske Kandestöber' (The Political Pewterer), 'Jeppe paa Bierget,'
'Erasmus Montanus,' and 'Det Lykkelige Skibbrud' (The Fortunate
Shipwreck). In the first of these four plays we have a humorous
delineation of the man who, without any practical experience in the
work of government or any knowledge of political science, boldly dis-
cusses questions of public policy, and makes the most grotesque pro-
posals for the welfare of the State. In 'Jeppe paa Bierget' we have
the story made familiar to us by the Induction' to the Taming of
the Shrew. ' In his portrayal of a drunken peasant made for a day
to believe himself a nobleman, Holberg achieved one of his greatest
triumphs. It is not so much the drunken humor as the genuine
humanity of the peasant that appeals to us, and the springs of pity
are tapped no less than the springs of mirth. In Erasmus Mon-
tanus,' which Brandes calls "our deepest work," we have a study of
the country youth who is sent to Copenhagen for his education, and
who comes back to his simple home a pedantic prig, a superior per-
son, scorning his family and old-time associates. Petty and insuffer-
able as his training has made him, he is in some sort, after all, the
representative of the intellectual life; and there is something almost
tragic in the manner in which he is forced finally to succumb to
prejudice, sacrificing the truth to his personal comfort. The special
significance of 'Det Lykkelige Skibbrud' is in the last of the five
acts, which gives us the author's apologia pro vita sua, and strikes a
note of earnestness that must arrest the attention. The hero is a
satirical poet, brought to judgment by his enraged fellow-citizens, and
triumphantly acquitted by a righteous judge.
It must not be forgotten, however, that the comedies, large as they
loom in the history of Danish letters, represent only five or six years
of a life prolonged to the Scriptural tale, and almost Voltairean in its
productiveness. Among the other works that must at least be men-
tioned are the 'Dannemarks Riges Historie' (History of the Kingdom
of Denmark), the author's highest achievement as a historian; and
the 'Hero Stories' and 'Heroine Stories' in Plutarch's manner, which
were among the most popular of his prose writings. The most widely
known of all Holberg's works is the 'Nicolai Klimii Iter Subterraneuin'
(Niels Klim's Underground Journey), published at Leipzig in 1741, and
soon after translated into Danish and almost every other European
tongue. It is a philosophical romance of the type of 'Utopia' and
'Gulliver,' and champions the spirit of tolerance in religious and other
intellectual concerns.
The same liberal spirit breathes in the 'Moralske Tanker' (Moral
Reflections) of 1744. This work, and the five volumes of 'Epistler'


## p. 7416 (#218) ###########################################

7416
LUDVIG HOLBERG
(1748-54), are about the last of Holberg's writings, and embody his
ripest thought upon government, literature, philosophy, religion, and
the practical conduct of life. If hitherto we have thought of Holberg
as the Northern prototype of Molière or Voltaire, he appears to us in
his Epistles' rather in the light of a Northern Montaigne. These
brief essays, between five and six hundred in number, afford the most
intimate revelation of the author's life and intellectual attitude. They
are charmingly ripe and genial work, and close in the worthiest
imaginable way the long list of the writings with which for nearly
forty years he continued to enrich the national literature of which he
had been the creator.
Nearly twenty years before his death, Holberg, who had never
married, expressed a determination to devote to public uses the mod-
est fortune that he had accumulated. He finally decided to apply
this fortune to the endowment of Sorö Academy, a sort of auxiliary
of the University; and the gift was made effective several years be-
fore his death. In 1747 he received a title of nobility; but as Baron
Holberg remained the same conscientious and unaffected citizen that
he had been as a commoner. He accepted his title with simple dig-
nity, as a deserved recognition of his services to the State and the
nation, just as in our own day the greatest of modern English poets
accepted a similar title for similar reasons.
The last summons came to him near the close of 1753, in the form
of an affection of the lungs. When told of his danger, he said:-
"It is enough for me to know that I have sought all my life long
to be a useful citizen of my country. I will therefore die willingly,
and all the more so because I perceive that my mental powers are
likely to fail me. " The end came January 28th, 1754, when he had
entered upon his seventieth year. His body lies in the church at
Sorö, beneath a marble sarcophagus placed there a quarter of a cen-
tury after his death.
The words just quoted strike the prevailing note of Holberg's
character, in their unaffected simplicity revealing the inmost nature
of the man. He was simple in his daily life, and simple in his chosen
forms of literary expression, abhorring parade in the one as he ab-
horred pedantry in the other. Few figures of the eighteenth century
stand out in as clear a light, and none is more deserving of respect.
Holberg founded no school in the narrow sense, but in the wider
sense the whole spiritual life of modern Denmark is traceable to his
impulse and indebted to his example. He was not unconscious of
his high mission, and even in the lightest of his comedies we may
detect the ethical undercurrent. "Ej blot til Lyst"-"Not merely for
pleasure" has long been the motto of the Danish National Theatre;
and it was in the spirit of that fine phrase that Holberg wrote, not
only 'Den Danske Skueplads,' but also the many books of history
―――――


## p. 7417 (#219) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7417
and allegory, of philosophy and criticism, that occupied his long and
industrious days. Denmark may well be proud that such a figure
stands in the forefront of its intellectual life.
Attilayer
NOTE. It is difficult to give any adequate idea of Holberg's work
by means of a few selections, but the attempt must be made. I
have chosen three extracts from the comedies: the first, from Ulys-
ses von Ithacia,' illustrates the author's work in its most fantastic
phase; the second, from 'Den Politiske Kandestöber,' illustrates his
powers and his limitations as a delineator of character; the third,
from 'Erasmus Montanus,' develops the central situation of his most
remarkable play, illustrating his insight, his humor, and his skill in
the management of dialogue. To these dramatic scenes I have
appended two of the most characteristic Epistles,' as examples of
his manner as an essayist in prose. All the translations are my
own, and made for the present occasion.
W. M. P.
―
ULYS
FROM ULYSSES VON ITHACIA ›
Alas, Chilian, I have tried in every way to calm the
wrath of Neptune; but prayers, offerings, are all in vain.
We have now wandered about for twenty years since the
conquest of Troy from one place to another, until we have at
last come to Cajania, where Queen Dido has promised us pro-
vision of ships for the pursuit of our journey; but alas! day after
day goes by, and I fear that it will be longer than we think.
For I am afraid of something I dare not think about.
I am
afraid, Chilian-
LYSSES
-
――――――――
―――――――――――――
Chilian What is my lord afraid of?
Ulysses-I am afraid that Dido has fallen in love with me.
Chilian - Perhaps —
Ulysses — Oh, unfortunate man that I am! If it is true, Chil-
ian, we shall never get away from here.
Chilian — Will my lord not take it ill if I ask him how old
he was when he left home?
Ulysses-I was in the flower of my age, not over forty.
Chilian-Good. Forty years to begin with; then ten years
for the siege makes fifty, then twenty years on the homeward


## p. 7418 (#220) ###########################################

7418
LUDVIG HOLBERG
journey makes seventy. The great Dido must be a great lover
of antiquities, if she is so cold towards the many young men
from whom she might choose, and falls in love with an aged and
bearded man.
Ulysses-Listen, Chilian: I don't want to hear any such argu-
ments; you must have made a mistake in the reckoning. When
you see a thing with your eyes, you mustn't doubt it. If you saw
snow in midsummer, you shouldn't say, "It is not possible that
this should be snow, for it is now summer": it should be enough
for you to see the snow with your eyes.
Chilian-I observe, my lord, that I must leave reason out of
the question in the things that have happened to us. So I will
no longer doubt, but rather think how we can get ourselves out
of this fix.
Ulysses - How shall we escape this impending disaster?
Chilian There is no other way but to steal away from the
land in secret.
Ulysses-You are right there, Chilian. I will go right away
and talk the situation over with my faithful comrades; stay here
until I come back. [Goes away. ]
Chilian [alone]—I wish I had a pinch of snuff, so I could
catch my breath; for my head is almost distracted. I am sure
that when my lord comes back he will say again that it is ten
years since he last spoke with me. We shall get to be five or
six thousand years old before we come home to our fatherland;
for I notice that we do not keep pace with time, but that time
runs away from us while we stand still. I have a piece of Eng-
lish cheese here that I brought from Ithaca thirty years ago, and
it is still quite fresh. And not only does time run away from
us, but the earth on which we stand; for many times, when I
light my pipe we are in the eastern corner of the world, and
before I have smoked it out we find ourselves in the western
corner.
―
Ulysses returns
Ulysses - Oh heavens! is it possible that such things can be
in nature?
Chilian - What is up now, your Worship?
Ulysses-Alas, Chilian, I never could have imagined such a
thing, if I hadn't seen it with these my eyes.
Chilian-What is it, my lord?


## p. 7419 (#221) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7419
Ulysses - O Dido, Dido, what ill have I done thee, that thou
shouldst thus exercise thy magic arts upon my faithful comrades?
Chilian - Are they bewitched?
Ulysses Listen, Chilian, to a marvelous tale, the like of
which has not been known from Deucalion's flood to the present
time. During the four weeks since I last spoke with you-
Chilian-Is it only four weeks? I thought it was about four
years.
―
Ulysses-During the four weeks, I say, I have been planning
with my comrades to journey away in secret. We were all ready
to go on board, when Dido got wind of it, and to prevent our
departure, by magic changed all my comrades into swine.
Chilian-Ei, that cannot be possible, gracious lord! [aside]
because they were swine before.
Ulysses- Alas, it is too true, Chilian. I thought my eyes
deceived me, and I spoke to them. But their speech was trans-
formed with their shape, and for an answer they grunted at me.
Then I took flight for fear of likewise being turned into a hog.
But there they come; I dare stay no longer. [Departs weeping. ]
Enter the Comrades of Ulysses, crawling on their hands and feet,
and grunting
Chilian-Ha, ha! ha, ha! ha, ha! ha, ha! The deuce take
you all! I never saw the like in all my days.
Swine-Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!
Chilian-Listen, you fellows: what devil is bestride you?
Swine-We are swine, little father. Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!
Chilian The Devil take me if you are swine.
Swine-Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!
Chilian [gets down on his hands and feet, and begins to grunt]
– Ugh, ugh, ugh! Listen, you fellows, are you sure you are
swine ?
food.
―
Swine-Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Chilian-Well, since you are swine, you shall have swine's
Eat me up this filth that lies here.
Swine — We are not hungry, little father. Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!
Chilian [beating them with a whip]-Go on, I tell you,-eat
it up, or I will cut your swinish backs into strips. Go on, go on;
if you are swine it is the right food for you.
[He flogs them roundly. The swine get up, and become men again. ]


## p. 7420 (#222) ###########################################

7420
LUDVIG HOLBERG
Swine-As sure as you live, you shall pay us for these blows,
my good Monsieur Wegner. * Aren't you ashamed to spoil the
whole story in this way? [They run off. ]
Chilian - I didn't spoil the story,-I made them into two-
legged hogs, as they were before. But there comes my lord
again.
Ulysses Alas! Chilian, have they all gone?
Chilian-Yes, my lord, they have gone. They go on two legs
now as they did before.
Ulysses Are they no longer swine?
Chilian-I don't say that; far from it: but my leechcraft
has gone so far as to make them two-legged once more.
Ulysses-O great son of Esculapius! you deserve to have
temples and altars erected in your honor. From what god or
goddess did you learn such divine arts?
Chilian-I lay down in the field for a while, and with bitter
tears bewailed the misfortune of our people. While weeping I
fell asleep, and there appeared to me Proserpina, the goddess of
leechcraft, (that's her name, isn't it? ) who said to me: "Chilian,
I have heard thy tears and thy prayers. Get up, and cut a
branch from the first birch at your left hand. It is a sacred tree
that no man has hitherto touched.
As soon as you touch your
countrymen with it, they shall rise up and walk on two legs as
before. " Which happened just as she said. Whether they are
still swine or not, I don't say; but it is certain that they look
as they used to, walk on two legs, and speak,- for they abused
me because I hit them too hard with the sacred rod.
Ulysses O Chilian, you have saved me! Let me embrace
you!
—
-
Chilian Serviteur! It would be a pleasure to me if my
lord would also turn hog, so that I might have the satisfaction
of curing him too.
Ulysses — Listen, Chilian, there is not much time to waste; the
ship is all ready. Let us go and gather our people together, that
we may escape hastily and in silence. See, there comes Dido: we
must run.
*The name of the actor who took the part of Chilian.


## p. 7421 (#223) ###########################################

LUDVIG HOLBERG
7421
FROM THE POLITICAL PEWTERER'
[Herman von Bremen, a Hamburg pewterer, has become a dabbler in poli-
tics, and with the freedom of ignorance expresses his opinions concerning vari-
ous affairs of State. He meets regularly with a number of his friends in what
they call a Collegium Politicum, for the discussion of political matters. The
characters in this act are Herman, his wife Geske, his fellow-politicians, and
his servant Heinrich. ]
ERMAN- Heinrich, get everything ready. Mugs and pipes on
That is right.
the table.
HⓇ
[Heinrich makes preparations. One comes in after another, and all take
seats at the table, Herman at the head. ]
Herman-Welcome, good men, all of you! Where did we leave
off last?
Richart the Brushmaker-We were talking about the interests
of Germany.
-
Gert the Furrier-That is so; I remember now. It will all
come up at the next Reichstag. I wish I could be there for an
hour, I would whisper something to the Elector of Mainz that
he would thank me for. The good people do not know where
the interests of Germany lie. When did one ever hear of an impe-
rial city like Vienna without a fleet, or at least without galleys?
They might keep a war fleet for the defense of the kingdom;
there is the war tax and the war treasure. See how much wiser
the Turk is. We can never learn to wage war better than he
does. There are forests enough in Austria and Prague, if they
were only used for ships and masts. If we had a fleet in Austria
or Prague, then the Turk and the Frenchman would stop be-
sieging Vienna, and we could go to Constantinople. But nobody
thinks of such things.
Sivert the Inspector· No, not a mother's son of them. Our
forefathers were a good deal wiser. It all depends upon circum.
stances. Germany is no bigger now than it was in the old days,
when we not only defended ourselves well enough against our
neighbors, but even seized large parts of France, and besieged
Paris by land and water.
Frantz the Wigmaker-But Paris isn't a seaport.
Sivert the Inspector - Then I have read my map very badly.
I know how Paris lies. Here lies England, right where my fin-
ger is; here is the Channel, here is Bordeaux, and here is Paris.


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