No More Learning

The important thing for you
is not how much you know, but the quality of what you
know. Divide your day and give to each part of it a
special occupation.
Never work at night. It dulls the
brain and hurts the health.
I would not change my freedom for the best bishopric in the
world. - LETTER TO PETER GILES, 1516.
I am now fifty-one years old.
I am not enamored of
life, but it is worth while to continue a little longer with such a
prospect of a golden age.
All looks brighter now.
I myself, insignificant I, have contributed something. I have at
least stirred the bile of those who would not have the world grow


## p. 5531 (#97) ############################################

ERASMUS
5531
wiser, and only fools now snarl at me. One of them said in a
sermon lately, in a lamentable voice, that all was now over with
the Christian faith. - LETTER TO CAPITO, circa 1518.
Old institutions cannot be rooted up in an instant. Quiet
argument may do more than wholesale condemnation. Avoid
all appearance of sedition. Keep cool. Do not get angry. Do
not hate anybody. Do not get excited over the noise which you
have made.
May Christ give you his spirit, for his own
glory and the world's good. -LETTER TO LUTHER, circa 1519.
.
The world is waking out of a long deep sleep. The old
ignorance is still defended with tooth and claw, but we have
kings and nobles now on our side. -LETTER TO SIR HENRY
GUILDFORD, 1519.
For yourself, the intelligence of your country will preserve
the memories of your virtues, and scholars will tell how a king
once reigned there who in his own person revived the virtues of
the ancient heroes. - LETTER TO KING HENRY VIII. , 1519.
The justest war can hardly approve itself to any reasonable
person.
The people build cities, the princes destroy
them, and even victory brings more ill than good. - LETTER TO
THE ABBOT OF ST. BERTIN.
My work has been to restore a buried literature, and recall
divines from their hair-splittings to a knowledge of the New
Testament. - LETTER THROWING LIGHT ON HIS PURPOSE IN PRE-
SENTING HIS EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT, 1521.
PASSAGES RELATING TO THE MONKS
HAPPY Epimenides, that he woke at last! Some divines never
wake at all, and fancy themselves most alive when their slumber
is deepest.
Do not mistake me. Theology itself I rev-
erence and always have reverenced. I am speaking merely of
the theologasters of our own time, whose brains are the rot-
tenest, intellects the dullest, doctrines the thorniest, manners the
brutalest, life the foulest, speech the spitefulest, hearts the black-
est, that I have ever encountered in the world. - LETTER TO HIS
PUPIL GREY.


## p. 5532 (#98) ############################################

5532
ERASMUS
A set of creatures who ought to be lamenting their sins, but
who fancy they can please God by snorting in their throats.
You say that I cannot die better than among my brethren.
I am not so sure of that. Your religion is in your dress;
your religious orders, as you call them, have done the Church
small service. -LETTER TO SERVATIUS, 1514.
I am delighted that you have stood up for Reuchlin.
What a fight he is having, and with what enemies! The Pope
himself is afraid to provoke the monks.
Those wretches
in the disguise of poverty are the tyrants of the Christian world.
-LETTER TO PIRKHEIMER, 1517.
.
What a thing it is to cultivate literature! Better far to grow
cabbages. Bishops have thanked me for my work, the Pope has
thanked me; but these tyrants the mendicant friars never leave
me alone with their railing. -LETTER TO CARDINAL WOLSEY, 1518.
PASSAGES RELATING TO SCHOLASTICISM AND THEOLOGY
I WISH there could be an end of scholastic subtleties,
and Christ be taught plainly and simply. The reading of the
Bible and the early Fathers will have this effect. -LETTER TO
CAPITO, circa 1518.
Wrangling about the nature of the Second Person of
the Trinity, as if Christ were a malignant demon, ready to de-
stroy you if you made a mistake about his nature!
Re-
duce the articles of faith to the fewest and simplest.
Let our divines show their faith by their works, and convert
Turks by the beauty of their lives. - LETTER TO ABBOT Volzius,
circa 1518.
·
Heresy is held a deadly crime; so if you offend one of these
gentlemen they a rush. on you together, one grunting out
"Heretic," the rest grunting in chorus and crying for stones to
hurl at you. -LETTER TO LAURINUS, circa 1518.
It would be well for us if we thought less of our dogmas
and more of the gospel. - LETTER TO PETER BARBIRIUS, 1521.
May not a man be a Christian, who cannot explain philo-
sophically how the nativity of the Son differs from the procession
1


## p. 5533 (#99) ############################################

ERASMUS
5533
of the Holy Spirit?
The sum of religion is peace, which
can only be when definitions are as few as possible, and opinion
is left free on many subjects. Our present problems are said to
be waiting for the next Ecumenical Council. Better let them
wait till the veil is removed, and we see God face to face. -
LETTER TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF PALERMO, 1522.
PASSAGES RELATING TO LUTHER
LUTHER'S party have urged me to join them, and Luther's
enemies have done their best to drive me to it by their furious
attacks on me in their sermons. Neither have succeeded. Christ
I know; Luther I know not.
I have said nothing, ex-
cept that Luther ought to be answered and not crushed.
We must bear almost anything rather than throw the world into
confusion.
The actual facts of things are not to be
blurted out at all times and places, and in all companies.
I was the first to oppose the publication of Luther's books.
recommended Luther himself to publish nothing revolutionary.
I feared always that revolution would be the end, and I would
have done more had I not been afraid that I might be found
fighting against the Spirit of God. - LETTER TO BISHOP MAR-
LIANUS, 1520.
·
·
·
I
In
May Christ direct Luther's actions to God's glory! .
Luther's enemies I perceive more of the spirit of this world than
of the Spirit of God. I wish Luther himself would be quiet for
a while. .
What he says may be true, but there are times
and seasons. Truth need not always be proclaimed from the
house-tops. -LETTER TO SPALATIN, 1520.
·
As to Luther himself, I perceived that the better a man was,
the less he was Luther's enemy.
Can it be right to per-
secute a man of unblemished life, in whose writings distinguished
and excellent persons have found so much to admire?
The Pope has no worse enemies than his foolish defenders. He
can crush any man if he pleases, but empires based only on ter-
ror do not last. -LETTER TO CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO, 1520.
By burning Luther's books you may rid your book-shelves of
him, but you will not rid men's minds of him. - LETTER TO
GODSCHALK, MODERATOR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF LOUVAIN, 1520.


## p. 5534 (#100) ###########################################

5534
ERASMUS
I told him that it was useless to burn Luther's books, unless
you could burn them out of people's memories. - LETTER TO SIR
THOMAS MORE, circa 1520.
Curses and threats may beat the fire down for the moment,
but it will burst out worse than ever. The Bull has lost Luther
no friends, and gained none for the Pope. -LETTER TO A FRIEND
AT ROME, circa 1521.
All admit that the corruptions of the Church required a dras-
tic medicine. But drugs wrongly given make the sick man worse.
I said this to the King of Denmark lately. He laughed, and
answered that small doses would be of no use; that the whole
system needed purging. For myself, I am a man of peace and
hate quarrels. -LETTER TO WARHAM, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTER-
BURY, 1521.
It is easy to call Luther "a fungus"; it is not easy to answer
him. -LETTER TO LORD MOUNTJOY, circa 1521.
They may chain the tongues of men: they cannot touch their
minds. - LETTER TO PIRKHEIMER, circa 1521.
They call me a Lutheran. Had I but held out a little finger
to Luther, Germany would have seen what I could do.
would rather die ten times over than make a schism. -
TO CORONELLO, circa 1522.
But I
LETTER
Christendom was being asphyxiated with formulas and human
inventions
Men needed waking. The gospel light had
to be rekindled. Would that more wisdom had been shown when
the moment came.
Your Highness sends me two books
of Luther's, which you wish me to answer. I cannot read the
language in which they are written. -LETTER TO GEORGE, DUKE
OF SAXONY, circa 1522.
·
I do not object generally to the evangelical doctrines, but
there is much in Luther's teachings which I dislike. He runs
everything which he touches into extravagance.
Do not
fear that I shall oppose evangelical truth. I left many faults in
him unnoticed, lest I should injure the gospel. I hope mankind
will be the better for the acrid medicines with which he has
•
*


## p. 5535 (#101) ###########################################

ERASMUS
5535
dosed them. Perhaps we needed a surgeon who would use knife
and cautery. -LETTER TO MELANCHTHON, 1524.
Luther could not have succeeded so signally if God had not
been with him, especially when he had such a crew of admirers
behind him. I considered that it was a case for compromise and
argument. Had I been at Worms, I believe I could have brought
it to that. -LETTER TO DUKE GEORGE OF SAXONY, 1524.
LETTER TO POPE ADRIAN VI.
YOUR Holiness requires my advice, and you wish to see me.
I would go to you with pleasure if my health allowed. But the
road over the Alps is long. The lodgings on the way are dirty
and inconvenient. The smell from the stoves is intolerable. The
wine is sour and disagrees with me.
As to writing
One party
against Luther, I have not learning enough.
says I agree with Luther because I do not oppose him.
The other finds fault with me because I do oppose him. I did
what I could. I advised him to be moderate, and I only made
his friends my enemies.
They quote this and that to
show we are alike. I could find a hundred passages where St.
Paul seems to teach the doctrines which they condemn in Luther.
I did not anticipate what a time was coming. I did, I admit,
help to bring it on; but I was always willing to submit what I
wrote to the Church.
Those counsel you best who advise
gentle measures.
Your Holiness wishes to set things
right, and you say to me, "Come to Rome. Write a book against
Luther. Declare war against his party. " Come to Rome? Tell
a crab to fly. The crab will say, "Give me wings. " I say,
"Give me back my youth and strength. "
If I write
anything at Rome, it will be thought that I am bribed. If I
write temperately, I shall seem trifling. If I copy Luther's style,
I shall stir a hornets' nest.
·
·
•
•
·
Well, some think there
But you ask me what you are to do.
is no remedy but force. That is not my opinion; for I think
there would be frightful bloodshed.
Things have gone
too far for cautery. Wyclif and his followers were put down by
the English kings; but they were only crushed, not extinguished.
However that may be, if you mean to try prisons, lashes,


## p. 5536 (#102) ###########################################

5536
ERASMUS
confiscations, stake, and scaffold, you need no help from me.
You yourself, I know, are for mild measures: but you have no
one about you who cares for anything but himself; and if divines.
only think of their authority, monks of their luxuries, princes of
their politics, and all take the bit between their teeth, what can
we expect? For myself, I should say, discover the roots of the
disease. Clean out those to begin with. Punish no one. Let
what has taken place be regarded as a chastisement sent by
Providence, and grant a universal amnesty. If God forgives so
many sins, God's vicar may forgive.
You ask me why I did not speak out at once. Because I
regarded Luther as a good man, raised up by Providence to cor-
rect the depravity of the age. — LETTER TO THE PRINCE OF CARPI,
1525.
You see how fiercely Luther strikes at me, moderate though
I was.
Ten editions of his reply have been published
already. The great men in the Church are afraid to touch him,
and you want poor me to do it again.
In France they
are at work with gibbet and dungeon. It won't answer.
Let Catholics meanwhile reform the abuses which have provoked
the revolt, and leave the rest to a general council. — LETTER TO
FABER, 1525(? ).
The rival parties drag at the two ends of a rope. When it
breaks, both will fall to the ground. - LETTER TO THE ARCHBISHOP
OF COLOGNE, 1528.
own.
The kings are fighting among themselves for objects of their
The monks, instead of looking for a reign of Christ, want
only to reign themselves. The theologians curse Luther.
Idiots that they are, they alienate with their foul speeches many
who would have returned to the Church. - LETTER TO THE BISHOP
OF AUGSBURG, 1528.
-
Now, partly from superstition, partly from avarice, the saying
of masses has become a trade like shoemaking or bricklaying. -
LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF HILDESHEIM, 1530.


## p. 5537 (#103) ###########################################

ERASMUS
5537
The problem is how to heal this fatal schism without rivers
of blood. LETTER TO MEXIA, 1530.
-
To kill one's fellow-creatures needs no great genius; but to
calm a tempest by prudence and judgment is a worthy achieve-
ment indeed. - LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF TRENT, 1530.
PASSAGES SHOWING VARIOUS MOODS, BUT GENERALLY HIS STRONG
TENDENCY TOWARD BROAD-CHURCHMANSHIP.
OTHERS may be martyrs if they like. I aspire to no such
honor.
We have not all strength for martyrdom, and I fear that if
trouble comes I shall act like Peter.
I have not condemned ceremonies. I have only insisted on a
proper use of them. Christ did the same; so why find fault with
me?
The Christian religion nowadays does not require
miracles, and there are none; but you know what lying stories
are set going by crafty knaves. - LETTER TO AN ENGLISH BISHOP,
1528.
PASSAGE SHOWING A PLAYFUL SKEPTICISM
(Referring to the tearing down of the Saints' images at Basle)
STRANGE that none of them worked a miracle to avenge their
dignity, when before they had worked so many at the slightest
invitation.
At Basle not a saint stirred a finger. - Let-
TER TO PIRKHEIMER, circa 1529.
PASSAGES REVEALING HIS FEELINGS TOWARD THE END OF LIFE
You talk of the great name which I shall leave behind me,
and which posterity is never to let die;
but I care noth-
ing for fame and nothing for posterity. I desire only to go home
and to find favor with Christ. - LETTER TO POPE PAUL III. IN
1535 (the year before Erasmus's death).
-
•
.
[For the full series of Erasmus's letters in the original, see various editions,
but especially that of LeClerc, Louvain, 1703-6. Those given above are
selected from the abridged translations given by Froude in his 'Life and
Letters of Erasmus,' London, 1894. See also the selections in Jortin and
Drummond. ]
X-347


## p. 5538 (#104) ###########################################

5538
ERCKMANN
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
(1822-)
(1826-1890)
BY FRÉDÉRIC LOLIÉE
RCKMANN-CHATRIAN is the joint name of two French novelists:
Émile Erckmann, born at Pfalzburg in 1822, and Alexandre
Chatrian, born in 1826 at Soldatenthal in the Meurthe
department, died in 1890; whom constant collaboration, a completely
similar bent of mind, grasp of things, observation, and style of writ-
ing, did, so to speak, blend into one and the same literary man.
Their friendship and joint labor dated from their meeting in Alsace
in 1845. At an early date they acquired that unity of style and con-
ception which so long puz-
zled public opinion as to
the double origin of their
productions. Erckmann as
a rule resided at Pfalzburg;
as to Chatrian, he lived in
Paris. The descriptions of
the former were sketched
in the Vosges country;
those of the latter in the
Seine department. But
their conception was iden-
tical, the flight of their im-
CHATRIAN
agination similar; so that, being in close communion of ideas, the
style of the one became that of the other. From afar they com-
pleted each other. This perfectly simultaneous collaboration, of
which the De Goncourt brothers alone offer another instance, was
unprecedented in literary history.
Unnoticed and trying were the first attempts of our novelists.
The special charm of their descriptions of the homes of middle-class
people of the Rhine country was not at first appreciated as fully
as it deserved to be; being, as they were, regular masterpieces as
regards reality, feeling, and nicety of delineation. L'Illustre Docteur
Matheus (The Illustrious Doctor Matheus: 1859), whose exploits are
performed in the misty spheres of the supernatural, constituted the
first success of the novelists. The way now lay open before them.



## p. 5539 (#105) ###########################################

ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
5539
Ringing successes made them soon forget their disappointing begin-
nings.
Erckmann and Chatrian, in twin, cultivated narrative poetry, the
rustic and sentimental novel, the picture of country life,—having for
preferred frame the quiet horizons which extend between the Rhine
and the Mosel,- dismal and fantastic fancies after the manner of
Hoffmann, the weird German dreamer; and lastly, the historical and
political novel. Chiefly under this last form, as applied to the revo-
lutionary epopee and to the wars of conquest of Napoleon I. , did
they make their names popular. Theirs was a personal and quite
new conception of those episodical novels, to which they gave the
title of "national," and which however caused them to be twitted
with anti-patriotism, for the reason that they represented war with
the pen of philosophers rather than with the pencil of poets, and
because they did not hesitate to show therein, with all the real
horror pertaining to the subject, how through the frenzy of battles
the fortune of a country runs out in blood, noise, and smoke.
The twin authors had given up, or at least put aside for a while,
their primitive manner. Getting tired of those quiet descriptions,
they felt driven to mix the simple legends of the Vosges country
and those of the Black Forest with more solid and broader ideas.
They now no longer limned the peaceful scenes of 'L'Ami Fritz'
(Friend Fritz), the vast beer-shops filled with the smoke of the long
china pipes, the fair housewives surrounded by their fair offspring,
the pensive maids of German lieder, or the country balls at which the
waltz carries away, on a rocking rhythm, the betrothed couples. To
their lovely and limited former pictures had now succeeded the
tumult of the camps and the horrors of battle-fields, hospital and
ambulance scenes, all the awful details which disclose the ambitious
egotism of leaders, the hesitation, the confusion, the half-pluck of
the soldiers, the smallness of great things. They had then marked
their twin object, quite democratic in its inspiration, which was to
set off the lustre of the campaigns fought under the Revolution for
the defense of national soil, and to sap the prestige of the Napo-
leonic idol, dimmed as it is in clouds of blood. The essential aim
they had in view was to point out to the young generations the
emptiness of military glory, and to prove to them that one is never
so happy as through peace, liberty, and toil.
In a
The public forthwith followed them in their evolution.
short time, Erckmann-Chatrian's works were eagerly read throughout
France; aided by the currents of anti-governmental opposition, they
soon acquired an immense popularity. Everybody was anxious to
read the pages of 'Madame Thérèse' and 'L'Histoire d'un Conscrit
de 1813' (The Story of a Conscript of 1813), where the conscript


## p. 5540 (#106) ###########################################

5540
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
relates himself, with charming artlessness, the great military events
in which he had been an actor, albeit indifferent and devoid of
enthusiasm. Success unfortunately so increased their productiveness
as to completely exhaust the happy vein they had discovered. They
were constantly writing, without however varying their topic. It was
always the same variation performed by clever virtuosi on an Alsatian
political and social theme. The first works had been enthusiastically
welcomed, the following delighted the readers, but the last only met
with a lukewarm and indifferent reception from the public. When
'Waterloo' was published, people noticed that that book was inferior
to 'Le Conscrit. ' 'Le Blocus' (The Blockade) seemed still beneath
'Waterloo. ' 'L'Histoire d'un Homme du Peuple' (The Story of a
Man of the People) had more of the merits of the foregoing works;
as to 'L'Histoire d'un Paysan' (The Story of a Peasant), it was but
the last expression of a form which had come to be but a process of
writing. Literary critics ceased to notice the new productions of
Erckmann-Chatrian. True to say, each of these works represented an
idea. They at times breathed a powerful air of justice and liberty.
But the plot was monotonous; the various episodes were ill combined
and il arranged; the style had become heavy, and began to lack
the fine simplicity which constituted the very talent of Erckmann-
Chatrian in short, the cohesion that marked their former works no
longer existed in the latter; they were no longer books, but series of
fragments.
Possessed of rare perfection in their best passages, though not
throughout equally good, the productions of Erckmann-Chatrian are
like a poem in two canti. The military canto may grow obsolete; as to
the more personal canto, that of the Vosgian legends, of sweet land-
scapes and picturesque manners, it is better assured of life.
One may likewise detect in the twin authors' talent two very dis-
tinct manifestations: the purely romantic one, rather weak as a rule,
on account of the superabundance of the scenes and episodes which
constantly break up the main plot; and the descriptive one, simply
admirable. Their books, whose charm and merit chiefly consist in
the finish of details, might be likened to a gallery of genre pictures.
That is why anthologies-the aim of which is to pick only that
which is excellent in an author's productions - might easily be en-
riched with marvelous passages borrowed from the somewhat massive
work of Erckmann-Chatrian. To make choice collections from them,
one would have to search right and left in their poems, legends,
fantastic visions, great military scenes, and lovely pictures of rural
life. The most important share might be gathered from those
calm and comforting provincial scenes of which they were so faith-
fully fond. As an instance of their style, one might likewise include


## p. 5541 (#107) ###########################################

ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
5541
that charming Alsatian idyl, 'L'Ami Fritz,' in which seems to revive
the placid beauty of Hermann und Dorothea,' Goethe's immortal
masterpiece.
Frederic Police
THE DANCE IN THE VILLAGE INN
From Friend Fritz'
TH
HEY descended therefore into the hall. The stewards of the
dance, their straw hats streaming with ribbons, made the
round of the hall close to the railing, waving little flags to
keep back the crowd. Haan and Schoultz were still walking
about looking for partners; Joseph was standing before his desk
waiting; Bockel, his double-bass resting against his outstretched
leg, and Andrès, his violin under his arm, were stationed close
beside him, as they alone were to accompany the waltz.
Little Suzel, leaning on Fritz's arm, in the midst of the crowd
of spectators, cast stolen glances around, her heart beating fast
with agitation and inward delight. Every one admired her long
tresses of hair, which hung down behind to the very hem of her
little blue skirt with its velvet edging; her little round-toed shoes,
fastened with black-silk ribbons, which crossed over her snow-
white stockings; her rosy lips, her rounded chin, and her grace-
ful flexible neck.
More than one pretty girl scrutinized her with a searching
glance, trying to discover something to find fault with, while her
round white arm, bare to the elbow after the fashion of the coun-
try, rested on Fritz's with artless grace; but two or three old
women, peering at her with half-shut eyes, laughed amidst their
wrinkles, and said to each other quite loud, "He has chosen well! "
Kobus, hearing this, turned towards them with a smile of satis-
faction. He too would have liked to say something gallant to
Suzel, but he could think of nothing- he was too happy.
At last Haan selected from the third bench to the left a
woman about six feet high, with black hair, a hawk nose, and
piercing eyes, who rose from her seat like a shot and made her
way to the floor with a majestic air. He preferred this style
of woman; she was the daughter of the burgomaster. Haan


## p. 5542 (#108) ###########################################

5542
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
seemed quite proud of his choice; he drew himself up and ar-
ranged the frill of his shirt, whilst the tall girl, who out-topped
him by half a head, looked as if she were taking charge of him.
At the same moment Schoultz led forward a little roundabout
woman, with the brightest red hair possible, but gay and smiling,
and clinging tight to his elbow as if to prevent him making his
escape.
They took their places, in order to make the circuit of the
hall, as is the usual custom. Scarcely had they completed the
first round when Joseph called out:-
"Kobus, are you ready? "
―――
As his only answer, Fritz seized Suzel by the waist with his
left arm, and holding her hand aloof with the other, after the
gallant manner of the eighteenth century, he whirled her away
like a feather. Joseph commenced his waltz with three strokes
of his bow. Every one understood at once that something strange
was to follow - a waltz of the spirits of the air, which they
dance on summer nights when nothing is to be seen but a streak
of reddish light in the distant horizon; when the leaves cease
their rustling, when the insects fold their wings to rest, and the
chorister of the night preludes his song with three notes,- the
first low and deep, the second tender, and the third so full of
life and passion that every noise is hushed to listen.
So commenced Joseph, having many a time in his wandering
life taken lessons from the songster of the night, his elbow rest-
ing on some mossy bank, his head supported on his hand, and
his eyes closed in a sort of dreamy ecstasy of delight. Then,
rising in animation, like the grand master of melody with his
quivering wings, who showers down every evening around the
nest where his well-beloved reposes, more floods of melody than
the dew showers pearly drops on the grass of the valley, the
waltz commenced,-rapid, sparkling, wild: the spirits of the air
soared aloft, drawing Fritz and Suzel, Haan and the burgo-
master's daughter, Schoultz and his partner, after them in endless
gyrations. Bockel threw in the distant murmur of the mountain
torrents, and the tall Andrès marked the time with rapid and
joyous touches, like the cries of the swallows cutting the air;-for
inspiration comes from heaven, and knows no law but its own
fantasy, while order and measure reign on this lower earth!
And now picture to yourself the amorous circles of the
waltz crossing and interlacing in never-ending succession, the


## p. 5543 (#109) ###########################################

ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
5543
flying feet, the floating robes, rounding and swelling in fan-
shaped curves; Fritz holding little Suzel in his arms, raising her
hand aloft gracefully, gazing at her with delight, whirling around
at times like the wind, and then slowly revolving in measured
cadence, smiling, dreaming, gazing at her again, and then dart-
ing off with renewed ardor; whilst she, with her waist undulat-
ing in graceful curves, her long tresses floating behind her like
wings, and her charming little head thrown backwards, gazed at
him in ecstasy, her little feet scarcely touching the ground as
she flew along.
Fat Haan, grappling his tall partner with uplifted arm, gal-
loped away without a moment's intermission, balancing and stamp-
ing with his heels to mark the time, and looking up at her from
time to time with an air of profound admiration; while she, with
her hooked nose, twirled about like a weathercock.
Schoultz, his back rounded in a semicircle and his long legs.
bent, held his red-haired partner under the arms, and kept turn-
ing, turning, turning, without a moment's cessation, and with the
most wonderful regularity, like a bobbin on its spindle, and keep-
ing time so exactly that the spectators were fairly enchanted.
But it was Fritz and the little Suzel that excited universal
admiration, from the grace of their movements and the happi-
ness which shone in their faces. They no longer belonged to
this lower earth,- they felt as if they were floating in a sort of
celestial atmosphere. This music, singing in joyous strains the
praises of happiness and love, seemed as if composed expressly
for them. The eyes of the whole hall were riveted upon them,
while they saw no one but each other. At times their youth and
good looks so excited the enthusiasm of the audience that it
seemed as if they were about to burst into a thunder of applause;
but their anxiety to hear the waltz kept them silent. It was only
when Haan, almost beside himself with delight in the contem-
plation of the tall burgomaster's daughter, raised himself on tip-
toe, and whirling her around him twice shouted in a stentorian
voice-"You! you! » subsiding the next moment into the regular
cadence of the dance, and when Schoultz at the same moment,
raising his right leg, passed it, without missing a bar of the tune,
over the head of his plump little partner, and in a hoarse voice,
and whirling round like one possessed, began to shout, "You!
you! you! you! you! you! " that the admiration of the spectators
found vent in clapping of hands and stamping of feet, and a
storm of hurrahs which shook the whole building.


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5544
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
Never in their whole lives had they seen such dancing. The
enthusiasm lasted for more than five minutes, and when at last
it died away they heard with pleasure the waltz of the spirits of
the air again resume the ascendant, as the song of the nightin-
gale swells out in the night air after the summer storm has
passed.
At last Haan and Schoultz were fairly exhausted; the per-
spiration was pouring down their cheeks, and they were fain to
promenade their partners through the hall; although it seemed as
if Haan were being led about by his danseuse, while Schoultz, on
the other hand, looked as if he were carrying his fair one sus-
pended from his elbow.
Suzel and Fritz still kept whirling round. The shouts and
stamping of feet of the spectators did not seem to reach their
ears; and when Joseph, himself exhausted, drew the last long-
drawn sigh of love for his violin, they stopped exactly opposite
Father Christel and another old Anabaptist, who had just entered
the hall, and were gazing at them with surprise and admiration.
Hallo! So you are here too, Father Christel," exclaimed
Fritz, beaming with delight; "you see Suzel and I have been
dancing together. "
"It is a great honor for us, Mr. Kobus," replied the farmer,
smiling; "a great honor indeed. But does the little one under-
stand it? I fancied she had never danced a step in her life. "
"Why, Father Christel, Suzel is a butterfly, a perfect little
fairy; I believe she has wings! "
Suzel was leaning on his arm, her eyes cast down, and her
cheeks covered with blushes; and Father Christel, looking at her
with delight, asked: -
"But Suzel, who taught you to dance? I was quite surprised
to see you just now. "
"Mazel and I," replied the little one,
"used to take a turn or
two in the kitchen now and then to amuse ourselves. "
Then the people around, who had leaned forward to listen,
could not help laughing; and the other Anabaptist exclaimed:-
"What are you thinking of, Christel?
young girls require to be taught to waltz?
it comes to them by nature? Ha ha
ha! "
Do you imagine that
Don't you know that


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ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
5545
A BIVOUAC AT LIGNY
From Waterloo: A Sequel to the Conscript of 1813: copyright 1869, by
Charles Scribner & Co.
-
IT
T WAS dark already, and the dense masses of smoke made it
impossible to see fifty paces ahead. Everything was moving
toward the windmills; the clatter of the cavalry, the shouts,
the orders of the officers, and the file-firing in the distance, all
were confounded. Several of the squares were broken. From
time to time a flash would reveal a lancer bent to his horse's
neck, or a cuirassier, with his broad white back and his helmet
with its floating plume, shooting off like a bullet, two or three
foot soldiers running about in the midst of the fray,- all would
come and go like lightning. The trampled grain, the rain streak-
ing the heavens, the wounded under the feet of the horses, all
came out of the black night— through the storm which had just
broken out for a quarter of a second. Every flash of musket
or pistol showed us inexplicable things by thousands.
But every-
thing moved up the hill and away from Ligny; we were masters.
We had pierced the enemy's centre; the Prussians no longer
made any defense, except at the top of the hill near the mills
and in the direction of Sombref, at our right. St. Armand and
Ligny were both in our hands.
As for us,—a dozen or so of our company there alone among
the ruins of the cottages, with our cartridge boxes almost empty,
we did not know which way to turn. Zébédé, Lieutenant
Bretonville, and Captain Florentin had disappeared, and Sergeant
Rabot was in command. He was a little old fellow, thin and
deformed, but as tough as steel; he squinted, and seemed to
have had red hair when young. Now, as I speak of him, I
seem to hear him say quietly to us, "The battle is won! by file
right! forward, march! "
Several wanted to stop and make some soup, for we had
eaten nothing since noon, and began to be hungry. The ser-
geant marched down the lane with his musket on his shoulder,
laughing quietly, and saying in an ironical tone:-
"Oh! soup, soup! Wait a little; the commissary is coming! "
We followed him down the dark lane; about midway we saw
a cuirassier on horseback with his back toward us. He had a


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5546
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
sabre-cut in the abdomen and had retired into this lane; the
horse leaned against the wall to prevent him from falling off.
As we filed past he called out, "Comrades! " But nobody even
turned his head.
Twenty paces farther on we found the ruins of a cottage,
completely riddled with balls: but half the thatched roof was still
there, and this was why Sergeant Rabot had selected it; and we
filed into it for shelter.
We could see no more than if we had been in an oven; the
sergeant exploded the priming of his musket, and we saw that it
was the kitchen, that the fireplace was at the right, and the
stairway on the left. Five or six Prussians and Frenchmen were
stretched on the floor, white as wax, and with their eyes wide
open.
"Here is the mess-room," said the sergeant: "let every one
make himself comfortable. Our bedfellows will not kick us. "
As we saw plainly that there were to be no rations, each one
took off his knapsack and placed it by the wall on the floor for
a pillow. We could still hear the firing, but it was far in the
distance on the hill.
The rain fell in torrents. The sergeant shut the door, which
creaked on its hinges, and then quietly lighted his pipe. Some
of the men were already snoring when I looked up, and he was
standing at the little window, in which not a pane of glass
remained, smoking.
He was a firm, just man; he could read and write, had been
wounded and had his three chevrons, and ought to have been an
officer, only he was not well formed. He soon laid his head on
his knapsack, and shortly after all were asleep.
«<
It was long after this when I was suddenly awakened by
footsteps and fumbling about the house outside.
I raised up on
my elbow to listen, when somebody tried to open the door. I
could not help screaming out. 'What's the matter? " said the
sergeant. We could hear them running away, and Rabot turned
on his knapsack, saying, "Night-birds-rascals! clear out, or I'll
send a ball after you! He said no more, and I got up and
looked out of the window, and saw the wretches in the act of
robbing the dead and wounded. They were going softly from
one to another, while the rain was falling in torrents.
It was
something horrible.
I lay down again, and fell asleep, overcome by fatigue.


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ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
5547
At daybreak the sergeant was up and crying "En route! "
We left the cottage and went back through the lane. The
cuirassier was on the ground, but his horse still stood beside
him. The sergeant took him by the bridle and led him out into
the orchard, pulled the bits from his mouth, and said:-
-
"Go and eat; they will find you again by-and-by. "
And the poor beast walked quietly away. We hurried along
the path which runs by Ligny. The furrows stopped here, and
some plots of garden ground lay along by the road.
The ser-
geant looked about him as he went, and stooped down to dig up
some carrots and turnips which were left. I quickly followed his
example, while our comrades hastened on without looking round.
I saw that it was a good thing to know the fruits of the
earth. I found two beautiful turnips and some carrots, which
are very good raw, but I followed the example of the sergeant
and put them in my shako.
I ran on to overtake the squad, which was directing its steps
toward the fires at Sombref. As for the rest, I will not attempt
to describe to you the appearance of the plateau in the rear of
Ligny, where our cuirassiers and dragoons had slaughtered all
before them. The men and horses were lying in heaps; the
horses with their long necks stretched out on the ground, and the
dead and wounded lying under them.