LUDWIG TIECK
* * * * *
PUSS IN BOOTS (1797)
A fairy-tale for children in three acts, with interludes, a prologue and an epilogue.
TRANSLATED BY LILLIE WINTER, B.A.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
THE KING
THE PRINCESS, his daughter
PRINCE NATHANIEL of Malsinki
LEANDER, Court scholar
HANSWURST, Court fool
A Groom of the Chamber
The Cook
LORENZ }
BARTHEL } Peasant brothers
GOTTLIEB }
Hinze, a tom-cat
A Tavern-keeper
KUNZ }
MICHEL } Peasants
A Bugbear
A Peace-maker
The Playwright
A Soldier
Two Hussars
Two Lovers
Servants
Musicians
A Peasant
The Prompter
A Shoemaker
A Historian
FISCHER
MÜLLER
BÖTTICHER
LEUTNER
WIESENER
WIESENER'S NEIGHBOR
Elephants
Lions
Bears
An officer
Eagles and other birds
A rabbit
Partridges
Jupiter
Terkaleon
The Machinist
Spirits
Monkeys
The Public.
[Illustration: #LUDWIG TIECK# VOGEL VON VOGELSTEIN]
PROLOGUE
The scene is laid in the pit, the candles are already lighted, the musicians are gathered in the orchestra. The theatre is filled, people talking in confusion, some arriving, etc.
FISCHER, MÜLLER, SCHLOSSER, BÖTTICHER, in the pit
FISCHER.
Say, but I am curious, Herr Müller, what do you think of today's play?
MÜLLER.
I should be more likely to expect the sky to fall in than to see such a play at our theatre.
FISCHER.
Do you know the play?
MÜLLER.
Not at all. A strange title that: Puss in Boots. I do hope they're not going to present that child's play at the theatre.
SCHLOSS.
Why, is it an opera?
FISCHER.
Anything but that; the bill says: A Fairy-tale for Children.
SCHLOSS.
A fairy-tale? But in Heaven's name, we're not children, are we, that they want to present such pieces for us? They certainly won't put an actual cat on the stage, will they?
FISCHER.
It may turn out to be an imitation of the new Arcadians, a sort of
Terkaleon.
MÜLLER.
Now that wouldn't be bad, for I've been wishing this long while to see some time such a wonderful opera without music.
FISCHER.
Without music it is absurd, for, my dear friend, we're beyond such childish nonsense, such superstition; enlightenment has borne its natural fruits.
MÜLLER.
It may turn out to be a regular picture of domestic life, and the cat is only a joke, something like a jest, so to speak, a motive, if I may call it that.
SCHLOSS.
To tell you my honest opinion, I take the whole thing to be a trick to spread sentiment among the people, give them suggestions. You'll see if I'm not right. A revolutionary play, as far as I can understand.
FISCHER.
I agree with you, too, for otherwise the style would be horribly offensive. For my part I must admit I never could believe in witches or spirits, not to mention Puss in Boots.
SCHLOSS.
The age of these phantoms is past. Why, there comes Leutner; perhaps he can tell us more.
[Leutner pushes himself through the crowd.]
LEUTNER.
Good evening, good evening! Well, how are you?
MÜLLER.
Do tell us, will you, what sort of play we're having tonight?
[The music begins.]
LEUTNER.
So late already? Why, I've come in the nick of time. About the play? I have just been speaking with the author; he is at the theatre and helping dress the tom-cat.
MANY VOICES.
Is helping?—The author?—The cat? So a cat will appear, after all?
LEUTNER.
Yes, indeed, why his name is even on the bill.
FISCHER.
I say, who's playing that part?
LEUTNER.
The strange actor, of course, the great man.
MÜLLER.
Indeed? But how can they possibly play such nonsense?
LEUTNER.
For a change, the author thinks.
FISCHER.
A fine change, why not Bluebeard too, and Prince Kobold? Indeed! Some excellent subjects for the drama!
MÜLLER.
But how are they going to dress the cat?—And I wonder whether he wears real boots?
LEUTNER.
I am just as impatient as all of you.
FISCHER.
But shall we really have such stuff played to us? We've come here out of curiosity, to be sure, but still we have taste.
MÜLLER.
I feel like making a noise.
LEUTNER.
It's rather cold, too. I'll make a start. (He stamps with his feet, the others fall in.)
WIESENER (on the other side).
What does this pounding mean?
LEUTNER.
That's to rescue good taste.
WIESENER.
Well, then I won't be the last, either. (He stamps.)
VOICES.
Be quiet, or you can't hear the music. (All are stamping.)
SCHLOSS.
But, I say, we really ought to let them go through the play, for, after all, we've given our money anyhow; afterward we'll pound so they'll hear us out doors.
ALL.
No, they'll now—taste—rules—art—otherwise everything will go to ruin.
A CANDLE-SNUFFER.
Gentlemen, shall the police be sent in?
LEUTNER.
We have paid, we represent the public, and therefore we will have our own good taste and no farces.
THE PLAYWRIGHT (behind the scenes).
The play will begin immediately.
MÜLLER.
No play—we want no play—we want good taste—
ALL.
Good taste! good taste!
PLAYWR.
I am puzzled—what do you mean, if I may ask?
SCHLOSS.
Good taste! Are you an author and don't even know what good taste means?
PLAYWR.
Consider a young beginner—
SCHLOSS.
We want to know nothing about beginners—we want to see a decent play-a play in good taste!
PLAYWR.
What sort? What kind?
MÜLLER.
Domestic stories—elopements—brothers and sisters from the country—something like that.
[The Author comes out from behind the curtain.]
PLAYWR.
Gentlemen—
ALL.
Is that the author?
FISCHER.
He doesn't look much like an author.
SCHLOSS.
Impertinent fellow!
MÜLLER.
His hair isn't even trimmed.
PLAYWR.
Gentlemen-pardon my boldness.
FISCHER.
How can you write such plays? Why haven't you trained yourself?
PLAYWR.
Grant me just one minute's audience before you condemn me. I know that the honorable public must pass judgment on the author, and that from them there is no appeal, but I know the justice of an honorable public, and I am assured they will not frighten me away from a course in which I so need their indulgent guidance.
FISCHER.
He doesn't talk badly.
MÜLLER.
He's more courteous than I thought.
SCHLOSS.
He has respect for the public, after all.
PLAYWR.
I am ashamed to present to such illustrious judges the modest inspiration of my Muse; it is only the skill of our actors which still consoles me to some extent, otherwise I should be sunk in despair without further ado.
FISCHER.
I am sorry for him.
MÜLLER.
A good fellow!
PLAYWR.
When I heard your worthy stamping—nothing has ever frightened me so, I am still pale and trembling and do not myself comprehend how I have attained to the courage of thus appearing before you.
LEUTNER.
Well, clap, then! (All clap.)
PLAYWR.
I wanted to make an attempt to furnish amusement by means of humor, by cheerfulness and real jokes, and hope I have been successful, since our newest plays so seldom afford us an opportunity to laugh.
[Illustration: #PUSS IN BOOTS# MORITZ VON SCHWIND]
MÜLLER.
That's certainly true!
LEUTNER.
He's right—that man.
SCHLOSS.
Bravo! Bravo!
ALL.
Bravo! Bravo! (They clap.)
PLAYWR.
I leave you, honored sirs, to decide now whether my attempt is to be rejected entirely—trembling, I withdraw, and the play will begin. (He bows very respectfully and goes behind the curtain.)
ALL.
Bravo! Bravo!
VOICES FROM THE GALLERY.
Da capo!—
[All are laughing. The music begins again; meanwhile the curtain rises.]
ACT I
Small room in a peasant's cottage
LORENZ, BARTHEL, GOTTLIEB. The tom-cat HINZE, is lying on a bench by the stove.
LORENZ.
I think that after the death of our father, our little fortune can be divided easily. You know the deceased has left only three pieces of property—a horse, an ox, and that cat there. I, as the eldest, will take the horse; Barthel, second after me, gets the ox, and so the cat is naturally left for our youngest brother.
LEUTNER (in the pit).
For Heaven's sake! Did any one ever see such an exposition! Just see how far dramatic art has degenerated!
MÜLLER.
But I understand everything perfectly well.
LEUTNER.
That's just the trouble, you should give the spectator a cunning suggestion, not throw the matter right into his teeth.
MÜLLER.
But now you know, don't you, where you are?
LEUTNER.
Yes, but you certainly mustn't know that so quickly; why, the very best part of the fun consists in getting at it little by little.
BARTHEL.
I think, brother Gottlieb, you will also be satisfied with this division; unfortunately you are the youngest, and so you must grant us some privileges.
GOTTLIEB.
Yes, to be sure.
SCHLOSS.
But why doesn't the court of awards interfere in the inheritance? What improbabilities!
LORENZ.
So then we're going now, dear Gottlieb; farewell, don't let time hang heavy on your hands.
GOTTLIEB.
Good-bye.
[Exit the brothers.]
GOTTLIEB (alone).
They are going away—and I am alone. We all three have our lodgings. Lorenz, of course, can till the ground with his horse, Barthel can slaughter and pickle his ox and live on it a while—but what am I, poor unfortunate, to do with my cat? At the most, I can have a muff for the winter made out of his fur, but I think he is even shedding it now. There he lies asleep quite comfortably—poor Hinze! Soon we shall have to part. I am sorry I brought him up, I know him as I know myself—but he will have to believe me, I cannot help myself, I must really sell him. He looks at me as though he understood. I could almost begin to cry.
[He walks up and down, lost in thought.]
MÜLLER.
Well, you see now, don't, you, that it's going to be a touching picture of family life? The peasant is poor and without money; now, in the direst need, he will sell his faithful pet to some susceptible young lady, and in the end that will be the foundation of his good fortune. Probably it is an imitation of Kotzebue's Parrot; here the bird is replaced by a cat and the play runs on of itself.
FISCHER.
Now that it's working out this way, I am satisfied too.
HINZE, the tom-cat (rises, stretches, arches his back, yawns, then speaks).
My dear Gottlieb—I really sympathize with you.
GOTTLIEB (astonished).
What, puss, you are speaking?
THE CRITICS (in the pit).
The cat is talking? What does that mean, pray?
FISCHER.
It's impossible for me to get the proper illusion here.
MÜLLER.
Rather than let myself be disappointed like this I never want to see another play all my life.
HINZE.
Why should I not be able to speak, Gottlieb?
GOTTLIEB.
I should not have suspected it; I never heard a cat speak in all my life.
HINZE.
Because we do not join in every conversation, you think we're nothing but dogs.
GOTTLIEB.
I think your only business is to catch mice.
HINZE.
If we had not, in our intercourse with human beings, got a certain contempt for speech, we could all speak.
GOTTLIEB.
Well, I'll own that! But why don't you give any one an opportunity to discover you?
HINZE.
That's to avoid responsibility, for if once the power of speech were inflicted on us so-called animals, there wouldn't be any joy left in the world. What isn't the dog compelled to do and learn! The horse! They are foolish animals to show their intelligence, they must give way entirely to their vanity; we cats still continue to be the freest race because, with all our skill, we can act so clumsily that human beings quite give up the idea of training us.
GOTTLIEB.
But why do you disclose all this to me?
HINZE.
Because you are a good, a noble man, one of the few who take no delight in servility and slavery; see, that is why I disclose myself to you completely and fully.
GOTTLIEB (gives him his hand).
Good friend!
HINZE.
Human beings labor under the delusion that the only remarkable thing about us is that instinctive purring which arises from a certain feeling of comfort; for that reason they often stroke us awkwardly and then we usually purr to secure ourselves against blows. But if they knew how to manage us in the right way, believe me, they would accustom our good nature to everything, and Michel, your neighbor's tom-cat, would even at times be pleased to jump through a hoop for the king.
GOTTLIEB.
You're right in that.
HINZE.
I love you, Master Gottlieb, very much. You have never stroked me the wrong way, you have let me sleep when I felt like it, you have objected whenever your brothers wanted to take me up, to go with me into the dark, and see the so-called electrical sparks—for all this I now want to show my gratitude.
GOTTLIEB.
Noble-hearted Hinze! Ah, how unjustly do they speak ill of you and scornfully, doubting your loyalty and devotion! My eyes are being opened—how my knowledge of human nature is increasing and so unexpectedly!
FISCHER.
Friends, where has our hope for a picture of family life gone to?
LEUTNER.
Why it is almost too nonsensical.
SCHLOSS.
I feel as though I were in a dream.
HINZE.
You are a good man, Master Gottlieb; but, do not take it ill of me, you are somewhat narrow, confined—to speak out freely, not one of the best heads.
GOTTLIEB.
Alas, no!
HINZE.
You don't know now, for example, what you want to do.
GOTTLIEB.
You read my thoughts perfectly.
HINZE.
If you had a muff made out of my fur—
GOTTLIEB.
Do not take it amiss, comrade, that this idea just passed through my mind.
HINZE.
Why, no, it was an altogether human thought. Can you think of no way of managing?
GOTTLIEB.
Not a thing!
HINZE.
You might carry me around and show me for money; but that is never a sure means of support.
GOTTLIEB.
No.
HINZE.
You might publish a journal or a German paper, with the motto, Homo sum—or a novel; I should be willing to collaborate with you—but that is too much bother.
GOTTLIEB.
Yes.
HINZE.
Well, I'll see that I take even better care of you. Depend upon it, you are yet to become very happy through me.
GOTTLIEB.
O, best, most noble man. (He embraces him tenderly.)
HINZE.
But you must also trust me.
GOTTLIEB.
Entirely. Why, now I realize your honorable spirit.
HINZE.
Well, then, do me a favor and bring the shoemaker immediately to take my measure for a pair of boots.
GOTTLIEB.
The shoemaker? Boots?
HINZE.
You are surprised, but in accomplishing what I intend to do for you, I have to walk and run so much that I have to wear boots.
GOTTLIEB.
But why not shoes?
HINZE.
Master Gottlieb, you do not understand the matter; they must lend me some dignity, an imposing air, in short, a certain manliness to which one never attains in shoes.
GOTTLIEB.
Well, as you think best; but the shoemaker will be surprised.
HINZE.
Not at all; we must act only as if it were nothing remarkable that I should wish to wear boots; one gets used to everything.
GOTTLIEB.
Yes, indeed; why, my conversation with you has actually become quite easy! But another thing; now that we have become such good friends, do call me by my first name, too; why do you still want to stand on ceremony with me?
HINZE.
As you like, Gottlieb.
GOTTLIEB.
There's the shoemaker passing. Hey! Pst! Friend Leichdorn! Will you please stop a moment?
[The shoemaker comes in.]
SHOEMAK.
God bless you! What's the news?
GOTTLIEB.
I have ordered no work from you for a long time.
SHOEMAK.
No, my friend, all in all, I have very little to do now.
GOTTLIEB.
I should like to have another pair of boots made—
SHOEMAK.
Please take a seat. I have a measure with me.
GOTTLIEB.
Not for myself, but for my young friend there.
SHOEMAK.
For this one here? Very well.
HINZE (sits on a chair and holds out his right leg).
SHOEMAK.
Now how should you like it, pussy?
HINZE.
In the first place, good soles, then brown flaps, and, above all things, stiff.
SHOEMAK.
Very well. (He takes the measure.) Will you be so kind as to draw your claws in a bit—or rather nails? I have already scratched myself. (He takes the measure.)
HINZE.
And they must be finished quickly. (As his leg is being stroked he begins to purr involuntarily.)
SHOEMAK.
The pussy is comfortable.
GOTTLIEB.
Yes, he's a good-humored fellow. He has just come from school, what they usually call a "smarty."
SHOEMAK.
Well, good-bye.
[Exit.]
GOTTLIEB.
Wouldn't you perhaps like to have your whiskers trimmed too?
HINZE.
On no account, I look so much more respectable, and you certainly must know that cats immediately become unmanly after that. A tom-cat without whiskers is but a contemptible creature.
GOTTLIEB.
If I only knew what you are planning!
HINZE.
You'll find out in due time. Now I want to take a little walk on the roofs; there's a fine, open view there and you're likely to catch a dove too.
GOTTLIEB.
As a good friend, I want to warn you not to let yourself be caught at it.
HINZE.
Don't worry, I'm not a novice. Meanwhile, good-bye.
[Exit.]
GOTTLIEB (alone).
Natural history always says that cats cannot be trusted and that they belong to the lion family, and I am in such fearful dread of a lion. Now if the cat had no conscience, he could run away from me afterward with the boots for which I must now give my last penny and then sell them somewhere for nothing, or it's possible that he wants to make a bid for favor with the shoemaker and then go into his service. But he has a tom-cat already. No, Hinze, my brothers have betrayed me, and now I will try my luck with you. He spoke so nobly, he was so touched—there he sits on the roof yonder, stroking his whiskers—forgive me, my fine friend, that I could even for a moment doubt your magnanimity.
[Exit.]
FISCHER.
What nonsense!
MÜLLER.
What does the cat need those boots for?—to be able to walk better?
Silly stuff!
SCHLOSS.
But it seems as though I saw a cat before me.
LEUTNER.
Be still, the scene is changing.
Hall in the royal palace
The KING with crown and sceptre. The PRINCESS, his daughter
KING.
A thousand handsome princes, my precious daughter, have already sued for your hand and laid their kingdoms at your feet, but you have continued to refuse them. Tell us the reason for this, my treasure.
PRINCESS.
My most gracious father, I have always believed that my heart must first feel certain emotions before my neck would bow under the yoke of marriage. For a marriage without love, they say, is truly hell upon earth.
KING.
That is right, my dear daughter. Ah, indeed, indeed, have you spoken words of truth: a hell on earth! Alas, if only I were not qualified to discuss it! Indeed I should have preferred to remain ignorant! But as it is, dear treasure, I have my tale to tell, as they say. Your mother, my consort of blessed memory—ah, Princess, see, the tears rush to my eyes even in my old age—she was a good queen, she wore the crown with an indescribable air of majesty—but she gave me very little peace. Well, may her ashes rest in peace among her royal relatives.
PRINCESS.
Your majesty excites yourself too much.
KING.
When the memory of it returns to me, O my child, on my knees I would entreat you—do be careful in marrying! It is a great truth that linen and a bridegroom must not be bought by candle-light, a truth which should be found in every book. What did I suffer! No day passed without a quarrel; I could not sleep peacefully, could not conduct my administrative business quietly, I could not think of anything, could not read a book—I was always interrupted. And still my spirit sometimes yearns for you, my blessed Klothilde! My eyes smart—I am a real old fool.
PRINCESS (tenderly).
My father!
KING.
I tremble to think of the dangers that face you, for, even if you do fall in love now, my daughter, ah! you should just see what thick books wise men have filled on this subject—see, your very passion, then, can also make you miserable. The happiest, the most blissful emotion can ruin us; moreover, love is, as it were, a magic cup; instead of nectar we often drink poison; then our pillow is wet with tears; all hope, all consolation are gone. (The sound of a trumpet is heard.) Why, it isn't dinner-time yet, is it? Probably another new prince who wants to fall in love with you. Take care, my daughter; you are my only child, and you do not realize how near my heart your happiness lies. (He kisses her and leaves the hall. Applause is heard in the pit.)
FISCHER.
That's a scene for you, in which you can find sound common sense.
SCHLOSS.
I am also moved.
MÜLLER.
He's an excellent sovereign.
FISCHER.
Now he didn't exactly have to appear with a crown.
SCHLOSS.
It entirely spoils the sympathy one feels for him as an affectionate father.
THE PRINCESS (alone).
I do not understand at all; why, not one of the princes has yet touched my heart with love. I always keep in mind my father's warnings; he is a great sovereign and nevertheless a good father too, and is always thinking of my happiness; if only he did not have such a hasty temper! But fortune and misfortune are always coupled thus. My joy I find in the arts and sciences, for books constitute all my happiness.
The PRINCESS, LEANDER, the court scholar.
LEANDER.
Well, your Royal Highness! (They sit down.)
PRINCESS.
Here. Master Leander, is my essay. I have entitled it Thoughts at
Night.
LEANDER (reads).
Excellent! Inspired! Ah! I feel as though I hear the hour of midnight striking. When did you write it?
PRINCESS.
Yesterday noon, after dinner.
LEANDER.
Beautifully conceived! Truly, beautifully conceived! But with your most gracious permission! The moon shines sadly down in the world. If you will not take it amiss, it should read: into the world.
PRINCESS.
Very well, I will note that for the future; it's too stupid that poetry should be made so hard for us; one can't write five or six lines without making a mistake.
LEANDER.
That's the obstinacy of language, so to speak.
PRINCESS.
Are not the emotions tenderly and delicately phrased!
LEANDER.
Indescribably! It is scarcely comprehensible how a feminine mind could write such a thing.
PRINCESS.
Now I might try my hand at moonlight descriptions. Don't you think so?
LEANDER.
Naturally you keep going farther all the time; you keep rising higher.
PRINCESS.
I have also begun a piece: The Unhappy Misanthrope; or, Lost Peace and Restored Innocence!
LEANDER.
Even the title itself is fascinating.
PRINCESS.
And then I feel an incomprehensible desire within me to write some horrible ghost story. As I said before, if it were not for those grammatical errors!
LEANDER.
Do not worry about that, incomparable princess! They are easily corrected.
[Groom from the Chamber enters.]
GROOM.
The Prince of Malsinki, who has just arrived, wishes to wait on your royal highness.
[Exit.]
LEANDER.
Your obedient servant.
[Exit.]
Prince NATHANIEL of Malsinki. The KING
KING.
Here, Prince, is my daughter, a young, simple creature, as you see her before you. (Aside.) Be polite, my daughter, courteous; he is an illustrious prince from afar; his country is not even on my map, I have already looked it up; I have an amazing amount of respect for him.
PRINCESS.
I am glad to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance.
NATHAN.
Beautiful Princess, the report of your beauty has been spread so widely over the whole world that I have come here from a far distant corner for the happiness of seeing you face to face.
KING.
Indeed it is astonishing, how many countries and kingdoms there are! You would not believe how many thousand crown-princes have been here already, to pay their addresses to my daughter; sometimes they arrive by dozens, especially when the weather is fine—and now you have come all the way from—I beg your pardon, topography is such a very extensive subject—in what region does your country lie?
NATHAN.
Mighty king, if you travel from here first down the great highway, then you turn to the right and go on; but when you reach a mountain, turn to the left again, then you go to the ocean and sail directly north (if the wind is favorable, of course), and so, if the journey is successful, you reach my dominions in a year and a half.
KING.
The deuce! I must have my court scholar explain that to me. You are probably a neighbor of the North Pole or Zodiac, or something like that, I suppose!
NATHAN.
Not that I know of.
KING.
Perhaps somewhere near the savages?
NATHAN.
I beg your pardon, all my subjects are very tame.
KING.
But you must live confoundedly far away. I can't get a clear idea of it yet.
NATHAN.
The geography of my country is still not exactly fixed; I expect to discover more every day; and then it may easily come about that we shall even become neighbors in the end.
KING.
That will be splendid! And if, after all, a few countries still stand in our way, I will help you in your discoveries. My neighbor is not a good friend of mine, so to speak, and he has a fine country; all the raisins come from there; why, I should be only too glad to have it! But another thing; do tell me, how, living so far away, can you speak our language so fluently!
NATHAN.
Hush!
KING.
What?
NATHAN.
Hush! hush!
KING.
I do not understand.
NATHANIEL, (softly to him).
Do be quiet about it, pray, for otherwise the audience down there will surely notice that it is really very unnatural.
KING.
It doesn't matter. They clapped before and so I can afford to take a chance.
NATHAN.
You see, it is only for the sake of the drama that I speak your language; for otherwise, of course, the matter is incomprehensible.
KING.
Ah, so! Well, come, Prince, the table is set!
[The PRINCE escorts the princess out, the KING precedes.]
FISCHER.
Cursed improbabilities there are in this play!
SCHLOSS.
And the king doesn't remain at all true to his character.
LEUTNER.
Why, nothing but the natural should ever be presented on the stage! The prince should speak an altogether unknown language and have an interpreter with him; the princess should make grammatical errors, since she herself admits that she writes incorrectly.
MÜLLER.
Of course! Of course! The whole thing is unquestionable nonsense; the author himself is always forgetting what he has said the moment before.
The scene is laid in front of a tavern.
LORENZ, KUNZ, MICHEL are sitting on a bench. The HOST
LORENZ.
I shall have to be going again soon! I still have a long way home.
HOST.
You are a subject of the king, aren't you?
LORENZ.
Yes, indeed; what do you call your good ruler?
HOST.
He is just called Bugbear.
LORENZ.
That is a foolish title. Why, has he no other name?
HOST.
When he has edicts issued, they always read: For the good of the public, the Law demands—hence I believe that is his real name. All petitions, too, are always laid before the Law. He is a fearful man.
LORENZ.
Still, I should rather be under a king; why, a king is more dignified. They say the Bugbear is a very ungracious master.
HOST.
He is not especially gracious, that is true of course, but, on the other hand, he is justice itself. Cases are even sent to him from abroad and he must settle them.
LORENZ.
They say wonderful things about him; the story goes he can transform himself into any animal.
HOST.
It is true, and then he travels around incognito and spies out the sentiments of his subjects; that's the very reason why we trust no cat, no strange dog or horse, because we always think the ruler might probably be inside of them.
LORENZ.
Then surely we are in a better position, too. Our king never goes out without wearing his crown, his cloak, and his sceptre; by these, he is known three hundred paces away. Well, take care of yourselves.
[Exit.]
HOST.
Now he is already in his own country.
KUNZ.
Is the border line so near?
HOST.
Surely, that very tree belongs to the king; you can see from this very spot everything that goes on in his country; this border line here is a lucky thing for me. I should have been bankrupt long ago if the deserters from over there had not supported me; almost every day several come.
MICHEL.
Is the service there so hard?
HOST.
Not that; but running away is so easy, and just because it is so strictly forbidden the fellows get such an exceptional desire to desert. Look, I bet that's another one coming!
[A soldier comes running.]
SOLDIER.
A can of beer, host! Quick!
HOST.
Who are you?
SOLDIER.
A deserter.
MICHEL.
Perhaps 'twas his love for his parents which made him desert.
Poor fellow, do take pity on him, host.
HOST.
Why if he has money, there won't be any lack of beer. (Goes into the house.)
[Two hussars come riding and dismount.]
1ST HUSS.
Well, thank God, we've got so far! Your health, neighbor!
SOLDIER.
This is the border.
2D HUSS.
Yes, Heaven be thanked! Didn't we have to ride for the sake of that fellow? Beer, host!
HOST (with several glasses).
Here, gentlemen, a fine, cool drink; you are all pretty warm.
1ST HUSS.
Here, you rascal! To your health!
SOLDIER.
Best thanks, I will meantime hold your horses for you.
2D HUSS.
The fellow can run! It's good that the border is never so very far away; for otherwise it would be deucedly hard service.
1ST HUSS.
Well, we must go back, I suppose. Good-bye, deserter! Much luck on your way!
[They mount and ride away.]
HOST.
Will you stay here?
SOLDIER.
No, I am going away; why I must enlist with the neighboring duke.
HOST.
Say, come and see me when you desert again.
SOLDIER.
Certainly. Farewell!
[They shake hands. Exeunt soldier and guests, exit host into the house. The curtain falls.]
INTERLUDE
FISCHER.
Why, it's getting wilder and wilder! What was the purpose of the last scene, I wonder?
LEUTNER.
Nothing at all, it is entirely superfluous; only to introduce some new nonsense. The theme of the cat is now lost entirely and there is no fixed point of view at all.
SCHLOSS.
I feel exactly as though I were intoxicated.
MÜLLER.
I say, in what period is the play supposed to be taking place?
The hussars, of course, are a recent invention.
SCHLOSS.
We simply shouldn't bear it, but stamp hard. Now we haven't the faintest idea of what the play is coming to.
FISCHER.
And no love, either! Nothing in it for the heart, for the imagination.
LEUTNER.
As soon as any more of that nonsense occurs, for my part at least, I'll begin to stamp.
WIESENER (to his neighbor).
I like the play now.
NEIGHBOR.
Very fine, indeed, very fine; a great man, the author; he has imitated the Magic Flute well.
WIESENER.
I liked the hussars particularly well; people seldom take the risk of bringing horses on the stage—and why not? They often have more sense than human beings. I would rather see a good horse than many a human being in the more modern plays.
NEIGHBOR.
The Moors in Kotzebue—a horse is after all nothing but another kind of Moor.
WIESENER.
Do you not know to what regiment the hussars belonged
NEIGHBOR.
I did not even look at them carefully. Too bad they went away so soon—indeed I'd rather like to see a whole play with nothing but hussars. I like the cavalry so much.
LEUTNER (to BÖTTICHER).
What do you think of all this?
BÖTTICH.
Why, I simply can't get the excellent acting of the man who plays the cat out of my head. What a study! What art! What observation! What costuming!
SCHLOSS.
That is true; he really does look like a large tom-cat.
BÖTTICH.
And just notice his whole mask, as I would rather call his costume, for since he has so completely disguised his natural appearance, this expression is far more fitting. But I say, God bless the ancients when blessing is due. You probably do not know that the ancients acted all parts, without exception, in masks, as you will find in Athenaeus, Pollux and others. It is hard, you see, to know all these things so accurately, because one must now and then look up those books oneself to find them. At the same time, however, one then has the advantage of being able to quote them. There is a difficult passage in Pausanias.
FISCHER.
You were going to be kind enough to speak of the cat.
BÖTTICH.
Why, yes; and I only meant to say all the preceding by the way, hence I beg you most earnestly to consider it as a note; and, to return to the cat, have you noticed, I wonder, that he is not one of those black cats? No, on the contrary, he is almost entirely white and has only a few black spots; that expresses his good-nature excellently; moreover, the theme of the whole play, all the emotions to which it should appeal, are suggested in this very fur.
LEUTNER.
That is true.
FISCHER.
The curtain is going up again!
ACT II
Room in a peasant's house
GOTTLIEB, HINZE. Both are sitting at a small table and eating.
GOTTLIEB.
Did it taste good?
HINZE.
Very good, very fine.
GOTTLIEB.
But now my fate must soon be determined, for otherwise I do not know what I am to do.
HINZE.
Just have patience a few days longer; why, good fortune must have some time to grow; who would expect to become happy all of a sudden, so to speak? My good man, that happens only in books; in the world of reality things do not move so quickly.
FISCHER.
Now just listen, the cat dares to speak of the world of reality! I feel almost like going home, for I'm afraid I shall go mad.
LEUTNER.
It looks almost as if that is what the writer intended.
MÜLLER.
A splendid kind of artistic enjoyment, to be mad, I must admit!
GOTTLIEB.
If I only knew, dear Hinze, how you have come by this amount of experience, this intelligence!
HINZE.
Are you, then, under the impression that it is in vain one lies for days at the stove with one's eyes tight shut? I always kept studying there quietly. In secret and unobserved does the power of the intelligence grow; hence it is a sign that one has made the least progress when one sometimes has a mind to crane one's neck around as far as possible, so as to look back at the ground one has already covered. Now do be kind enough to untie my napkin.
GOTTLIEB (does it).
A blessing on good food! (They kiss.) Content yourself with that.
HINZE.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
GOTTLIEB.
The boots fit very nicely, and you have a charming little foot.
HINZE.
That is only because we always walk on our toes, as you must already have read in your natural history.
GOTTLIEB.
I have great respect for you—on account of the boots.
HINZE (hangs a soldier's knapsack about his neck).
I am going now.
See, I have also made myself a bag with a drawing-string.
GOTTLIEB.
What's it all for?
HINZE.
Just let me alone! I want to be a hunter. Why, where is my cane?
GOTTLIEB.
Here.
HINZE.
Well, then, good-bye.
[Exit.]
GOTTLIEB.
A hunter? I can't understand the man.
[Exit.]
Open Field
HINZE (with cane, knapsack, and bag).
Splendid weather! It's such a beautiful, warm day; afterward I must lie down a bit in the sun. (He spreads out his bag.) Well, fortune, stand by me. Of course, when I think that this capricious goddess of fortune so seldom favors shrewdly laid plans, that she always ends up by disgracing the intelligence of mortals, I feel as though I should lose all my courage. Yet, be quiet, my heart; a kingdom is certainly worth the trouble of working and sweating some for it! If only there are no dogs around here; I can't bear those creatures at all; it is a race that I despise because they so willingly submit to the lowest servitude to human beings. They can't do anything but either fawn or bite; they haven't fashionable manners at all, a thing which is so necessary in company. There's no game to be caught. (He begins to sing a hunting song: "I steal through the woods so still and wild," etc. A nightingale in the bush near-by begins to sing.) She sings gloriously, the songstress of the grove; but how delicious she must taste! The great people of the earth are, after all, right lucky in the fact that they can eat as many nightingales and larks as they like; we poor common people must content ourselves with their singing, with the beauty in nature, with the incomprehensibly sweet harmony. It's a shame I can't hear anything sing without getting a desire to eat it. Nature! Nature! Why do you always destroy my finest emotions by having created me thus! I feel almost like taking off my boots and softly climbing up that tree yonder; she must be perching there. (Stamping in the pit.) The nightingale is good-natured not to let herself be interrupted even by this martial music; she must taste delicious; I am forgetting all about my hunting with these sweet dreams. Truly, there's no game to be caught. Why, who's there?
[Two lovers enter.]
HE.
I say, my sweet life, do you hear the nightingale?
SHE.
I am not deaf, my good friend.
HE.
How my heart overflows with joyousness when I see all harmonious nature thus gathered about me, when every tone but reëchoes the confession of my love, when all heaven bows down to diffuse its ether over me.
SHE.
You are raving, my dear!
HE.
Do not call the most natural emotions of my heart raving. (He kneels down.) See, I swear to you, here in the presence of glad heaven—
HINZE (approaching them courteously).
Kindly pardon me—would you not take the trouble to go somewhere else? You are disturbing a hunt here with your lovely affection.
HE.
Be the sun my witness, the earth—and what else? Thou, thyself, dearer to me than earth, sun, and all the elements. What is it, good friend?
HINZE.
The hunt—I beg most humbly.
HE.
Barbarian, who are you, to dare to interrupt the oaths of love?
You are not of woman born, you belong outside humanity.
HINZE.
If you would only consider, sir—
SHE.
Then wait just a second, good friend; you see, I'm sure, that my lover, lost in the intoxication of the moment, is down on his knees.
HE.
Dost thou believe me now?
SHE.
Oh, didn't I believe you even before you spoke a word? (She bends down to him affectionately.) Dearest! I love you! Oh, inexpressibly!
HE.
Am I mad? Oh, and if I am not, why do I not become so immediately with excess of joy, wretched, despicable creature that I am? I am no longer on the earth; look at me well, dearest, and tell me: Am I not perhaps standing in the sun?
SHE.
You are in my arms, and they shall never release you either.
HE.
Oh, come, this open field is too narrow for my emotions, we must climb the highest mountain, to tell all nature how happy we are.
[Exit the lovers, quickly and full of delight. Loud applause and bravos in the pit.]
WIESENER (clapping).
The lover thoroughly exhausted himself. Oh, my,
I gave myself such a blow on the hand that it swelled right up.
NEIGHBOR.
You do not know how to restrain yourself when you are glad.
WIESENER.
Yes, I am always that way.
FISCHER.
Ah!—that was certainly something for the heart; that makes one feel good again!
LEUTNER.
Really beautiful diction in that scene!
MÜLLER.
But I wonder whether it is essential to the whole?
SCHLOSS.
I never worry about the whole; if I cry, I cry—that's enough; that was a divine passage.
HINZE.
Such a pair of lovers is good for something in the world after all; they have fallen plump into the poetical again down there and the stamping has ceased. There's no game to be caught.
(A rabbit creeps into the bag; he rushes over and draws the strings over him.)
Look here, good friend! A kind of game that is a cousin of mine, so to speak; yes, that's the way with the world nowadays, relatives against relatives, brother against brother; if one wants to get through the world oneself, one must push others out of the way.
(He takes the rabbit out of the bag and puts it into the knapsack.)
Hold! Hold!—truly I must take care not to devour the game myself. I must just tie up the knapsack quickly only to be able to restrain my passion. Fie! for shame, Hinze! Is it not the duty of the nobleman to sacrifice himself and his desires to the happiness of his brother creatures? That's the reason why we live, and whoever cannot do that—oh, it were better for him if he had never been born!
(He is on the point of withdrawing; violent applause and shouting of "Encore;" he has to repeat the last beautiful passage, then he bows respectfully and goes of with the rabbit.)
FISCHER.
Oh, what a noble man!
MÜLLER.
What a beautifully human state of mind!
SCHLOSS.
One can still be benefited by things like this, but when I see such nonsense I should like to smash it with a single blow.
LEUTNER.
I began to feel quite sad too—the nightingale—the lovers—the last tirade—why the play has some really beautiful passages after all!
Hall in the palace
Large company. The KING. The PRINCESS. Prince NATHANIEL. The COOK (in gala costume)
KING (sitting on throne).
Over here, cook; now is the time to speak and answer; I want to examine the matter myself.
COOK (falls on his knees).
May it please your majesty to express your commands for your highness's most faithful servant?
KING.
One cannot expend too much effort, my friends, in keeping a king—on whose shoulders lies the well-being of a whole country and that of innumerable subjects—always in good humor. For if he falls into a bad humor, he very easily becomes a tyrant, a monster; for good humor encourages cheerfulness, and cheerfulness, according to the observations of all philosophers, makes man good; whereas melancholy, on the other hand, is to be considered a vice for the very reason that it encourages all the vices. Whose duty is it, I now ask, in whose power does it so lie, to preserve the good spirits of the monarch, so much as in the hands of a cook? Are not rabbits very innocent animals? My favorite dish—by means of these animals I could succeed in never becoming tired of making my country happy—and these rabbits he lets me do without! Sucking pigs and sucking pigs daily. Rascal, I am disgusted with this at last!
COOK.
Let not my king condemn me unheard. Heaven is my witness, that I took all pains to secure those pretty white animals; I even wanted to purchase them at a rather high price, but there are absolutely none to be had. If it were possible to get possession of even one of these rabbits, do you think you would be allowed to doubt for one moment longer the love your subjects bear you?
KING.
Stop with those roguish words, betake yourself to the kitchen and show by your action that you love your king. (Exit cook.) Now I turn to you, my prince, and to you my daughter. I have been informed, worthy prince, that my daughter does not love you; she is a thoughtless, silly girl, but I still give her credit for so much common sense as probably to have several reasons. She causes me care and sadness, grief and worry, and my old eyes are flooded with tears when I think of how she will get along after my death. "You will be left an old maid," I have told her a thousand times; "take your chance while it is offered you;" but she will not hear; well, then she'll have to be made to feel.
PRINCESS.
My father—
KING (weeping and sobbing).
Go, ungrateful, disobedient girl—by your refusal you are drawing me into—alas, only too early a grave! (He supports himself on the throne, covers his face with his cloak and weeps bitterly.)
FISCHER.
Why, the king does not remain true to his character for a moment.
[Groom of the Chamber comes in.]
GROOM.
Your majesty, a strange man is outside and begs to be admitted before your majesty.
KING (sobbing).
Who is it?
GROOM.
I beg pardon, my king, for not being able to answer this question. Judging by his long white beard, one should say he is an old man, and his face completely covered with hair should almost confirm one in this opinion, but then again he has such bright, youthful eyes, such a smooth, flexible back, that one cannot understand him. He appears to be a wealthy man; for he is wearing a pair of fine boots and as far as I can infer from his exterior he seems to be a hunter.
KING.
Bring him in; I am curious to see him.
[Groom goes and returns directly with HINZE.]
HINZE.
With your majesty's most gracious permission the Count of
Carabas makes bold to present you with a rabbit.
KING (delighted).
A rabbit? Do you hear it, really, people? Ah, fate has become reconciled with me again! A rabbit?
HINZE (takes it out of his knapsack).
Here, great monarch!
KING.
Here—just hold the sceptre a moment, prince. (He feels the rabbit.) Fat! nice and fat! From the Count of ——
HINZE.
Carabas.
KING.
Indeed, he must be an excellent man. I must become better acquainted with him. Who is the man? Which of you knows him? Why does he keep himself concealed? If such heads as that are allowed to remain idle, what will become of our throne! I would cry for joy. Sends me a rabbit! Groom, give it to the cook directly.
[Groom takes it. Exit.]
NATHAN.
My king, I beg most humbly to make my departure.
KING.
Why, indeed! I had almost forgotten that in my joy! Farewell, prince, yes, you must make room for other suitors; it cannot be otherwise. Adieu! I wish you had a highroad all the way home.
[Prince kisses his hand. Exit.]
KING (shouting).
People! Let my historian come!
[The historian appears.]
KING.
Here, friend, come, here's some material for our history of the world. You have your book with you, of course!
HISTORIAN.
Yes, my king.
KING.
Now enter immediately, that on such and such a day (whatever date we happen to have today) the Count of Carabas sent me a present of a most delicious rabbit.
[HISTORIAN seats himself and writes.]
KING.
Do not forget, Anno currentis. I must think of everything, otherwise it's always sure to be done wrong. (Blast of a trumpet is heard.) Ah, dinner is ready—come, my daughter, do not weep; if it isn't one prince, it will be another. Hunter, we thank you for your trouble. Will you accompany us to the dining-room?
(They go, HINZE follows.)
LEUTNER.
Pretty soon I shall not be able to stand it any longer; why, what has happened to the father now, who was so tender to his daughter at first and touched us all so?
FISCHER.
The only thing that vexes me is that not a person in the play wonders at the cat; the king and all act as though it had to be so.
SCHLOSS.
My head is all dizzy with this queer stuff.
Royal dining-room
Large table set. Sound of drums and trumpets. Enter the KING, the PRINCESS, LEANDER, HINZE, several distinguished guests and JACKPUDDING, Servants, waiting at the table.
KING.
Let us sit down, otherwise the soup will get cold! Has the hunter been taken care of?
SERVANT.
Yes, your majesty, he will eat at the little table here with the court fool.
JACKPUDDING (to HINZE).
Let us sit down, otherwise the soup will get cold.
HINZE (sits down).
With whom have I the honor of dining?
JACKPUD.
A man is what he is, Sir Hunter; we cannot all do the same thing. I am a poor, exiled fugitive, a man who was once, a long time ago, witty, but who has now become stupid and re-entered service in a foreign land where he is again considered witty for a while.
HINZE.
From what country do you come?
JACKPUD.
Unfortunately, only Germany. My countrymen became so wise about a certain time that they finally forbade all jokes on pain of punishment; wherever I was seen, I was called by unbearable nicknames, such as: Absurd, indecent, bizarre—whoever laughed at me was persecuted like myself, and so I was compelled to go into exile.
HINZE.
Poor man!
JACKPUD.
There are strange trades in the world, Sir Hunter; cooks live by eating, tailors by vanity, I, by the laughter of human beings; if they cease to laugh I must starve.
[Murmuring in the pit: A Jackpudding! A Jackpudding!]
HINZE.
I do not eat that vegetable.
JACKPUD.
Why? Don't be bashful, help yourself.
HINZE.
I tell you, white cabbage does not agree with me.
JACKPUD.
It will taste all the better to me. Give me your hand! I must become better acquainted with you, Sir Hunter.
HINZE.
Here!
JACKPUD.
Take here the hand of an honest German fellow; I am not ashamed of being German, as many of my countrymen are. (He presses the cat's hand very tightly.)
HINZE.
Ow! Ow! (He resists, growls, clutches JACKPUDDING.)
JACKPUD.
Oh! Hunter! Are you possessed of the devil? (He rises and goes to the king weeping.) Your majesty, the hunter is a perfidious man; just look at the remembrance of his five fingers he has left on me.
KING (eating).
Strange! Now sit down again; wear gloves in the future when you give him your hand.
JACKPUD.
One must guard against you.
HINZE.
Why did you take such a hold on me? The deuce take your pretended honesty!
JACKPUD.
Why, you scratch like a cat!
[HINZE laughs maliciously.]
KING.
But what's the trouble today, anyhow? Why is there no intelligent conversation carried on at the table? I do not enjoy a bite unless my mind has some nourishment too. Court scholar, did you perhaps fall on your head today?
LEANDER (eating).
May it please your majesty—
KING.
How far is the sun from the earth?
LEANDER.
Two million four hundred thousand and seventy-one-miles.
KING.
And the circle in which the planets revolve?
LEANDER.
A hundred thousand million miles.
KING.
A hundred thousand million! There's nothing in the world I like better to hear than such great numbers—millions, trillions—that gives you—something to think about. It's a good deal, isn't it, a thousand million, more or less?
LEANDER.
Human intelligence grows with the numbers.
KING.
But tell me, about how large is the whole world in general, counting fixed stars, milky ways, hoods of mist, and all that?
LEANDER.
That cannot be expressed at all.
KING.
But you are to express it or (threatening with his sceptre)—
LEANDER.
If we consider a million as one, then about ten hundred thousand trillions of such units which of themselves amount to a million.
KING.
Just think, children, think! Would you believe this bit of world could be so great? But how that occupies the mind!
JACKPUD.
Your majesty, this bowl of rice here seems to me sublimer.
KING.
How's that, fool?
JACKPUD.
Such sublimities of numbers give no food for thought; one cannot think, for of course the highest number always finally becomes the smallest again. Why, you just have to think of all the numbers possible. I can never count beyond five here.
KING.
But say, there's some truth in that. Scholar, how many numbers are there, anyhow?
LEANDER.
An infinite number.
KING.
Just tell me quickly the highest number.
LEANDER.
There is no highest, because you can always add something to the highest; human intelligence knows no bounds in this respect.
KING.
But in truth it is a remarkable thing, this human mind.
HINZE.
You must get disgusted with being a fool here.
JACKPUD.
You can introduce nothing new; there are too many working at the trade.
LEANDER.
The fool, my king, can never understand such a thing; on the whole I am surprised that your majesty is still amused by his insipid ideas. Even in Germany they tired of him, and here in Utopia you have taken him up where thousands of the most wonderful and clever amusements are at our service. He should be thrown out at once, for he only brings your taste into bad repute.
KING (throws the sceptre at his head).
Sir Brazenbold of a scholar! What do you dare to say? The fool pleases me, me, his king, and if I like him, how dare you say that the man is ridiculous? You are the court scholar and he the court fool; you both have equal positions; the only difference is that he is dining at the little table with the strange hunter. The fool displays his nonsense at the table, and you carry on an intelligent conversation at the table; both are only to while away the time for me and make my meal taste good: where, then, lies the great difference? Furthermore, it does us good to see a fool who is more stupid than we, who has not the same gifts; why, then, one feels greater oneself and is grateful to heaven; even on that account I like to have a blockhead around.
[THE COOK serves the rabbit and goes.]
KING.
The rabbit! I do not know—I suppose the other gentlemen do not care for it?
ALL (bow).
KING.
Well, then, with your permission, I will keep it for myself. (He eats.)
PRINCESS.
It seems to me the king is making faces as though he were getting an attack again.
KING (rising in rage).
The rabbit is burned! Oh, earth! Oh, pain! What keeps me from sending the cook right down to Orcus as fast as possible?
PRINCESS.
My father!
KING.
How did this stranger lose his way among the people? His eyes are dry—
ALL (arise very sadly, JACKPUDDING runs back and forth busily,
HINZE remains seated and eats steadily).
KING.
A long, long, good night; no morning will ever brighten it.
PRINCESS.
Do have some one fetch the peacemaker.
KING.
May the Cook Philip be Hell's cry of jubilee when an ungrateful wretch is burned to ashes!
PRINCESS.
Where can the musician be!
KING.
To be or not to be—
[The peacemaker enters with a set of musical bells and begins to play them at once.]
KING.
What is the matter with me? (Weeping.) Alas! I have already had my attack again. Have the rabbit taken out of my sight. (He lays his head on the table, full of grief, and sobs.)
COURTIER.
His majesty suffers much.
[Violent stamping and whistling in the pit; they cough, they hiss; those in the gallery laugh; the king gets up, arranges his cloak and sits down majestically with his sceptre. It is all in vain; the noise continues to increase, all the actors forget their parts, a terrible pause on the stage. HINZE has climbed up a pillar. The author appears on the stage, overcome.]
AUTHOR.
Gentlemen—most honorable public—just a few words!
IN THE PIT.
Quiet! Quiet! The fool wishes to speak!
AUTHOR.
For the sake of heaven, do not disgrace me thus; why, the act will be over directly. Just look, the king, too, is again calmed; take an example from this great soul which certainly has more reason to be vexed than you.
FISCHER.
More than we?
WIESENER (to his neighbor).
But I wonder why you are stamping? We two like the play, do we not?
NEIGHBOR.
That's true too—absent-mindedly, because they're all doing it. (Claps with might and main.)
AUTHOR.
A few voices are still favorable to me, however. For pity, do put up with my poor play; a rogue gives more than he has, and it will be over soon, too. I am so confused and frightened that I can think of nothing else to say to you.
ALL.
We want to hear nothing, know nothing.
AUTHOR (raging, drags the peacemaker forward).
The king is calmed, now calm this raging flood too, if you can. (Beside himself, rushes off.)
[The peacemaker plays on his bells, the stamping keeps time with the melody; he motions; monkeys and bears appear and dance fondly around him. Eagles and other birds. An eagle sits on the head of HINZE who is very much afraid; two elephants, two lions. Ballet and singing.]
THE FOUR-FOOTED ANIMALS.
That sounds so beautiful!
THE BIRDS.
That sounds so lovely!
CHORUS TOGETHER.
Never have I seen or heard the like!
[Hereupon an artistic quadrille is danced by all present, the king and his court retinue are taken into the centre, HINZE and JACKPUDDING not excluded; general applause. Laughter; people standing up in pit to see better; several hats fall down from the gallery.]
THE PEACEMAKER (sings during the ballet and the audience's general expression of pleasure).
Could only all good men
Soft bells like these discover
Each enemy would then
With ease be turned to lover.
And life without bad friends would be
All sweet and lovely harmony.
[The curtain falls, all shout and applaud, the ballet is heard awhile.]
INTERLUDE
WIESENER.
Splendid! Splendid!
NEIGHBOR.
Well, I'd certainly call that a heroic ballet.
WIESENER.
And so beautifully woven into the main plot!
LEUTNER.
Beautiful music!
FISCHER.
Divine!
SCHLOSS.
The ballet is the only redeeming feature of the play.
BÖTTICH.
I still keep on admiring the acting of the cat. In such details one recognizes the great and experienced actor; for example, as often as he took the rabbit out of the sack, he always lifted it by the ears; that was not prescribed for him; I wonder whether you noticed how the king grasped it at once by the body? But these animals are held by the ears because that is where they can best bear it. That's what I call a master!
MÜLLER.
That is a very fine explanation.
FISCHER (aside).
He himself ought to be lifted by the ears for it.
BÖTTICH.
And his terror when the eagle was sitting on his head! How he did not even move for fear, did not stir or budge—it is beyond description!
MÜLLER.
You go very deeply into the matter.
BÖTTICH.
I flatter myself I am a bit of a connoisseur; that is of course not the case with all of you, and for that reason the matter must be demonstrated to you.
FISCHER.
You are taking great pains!
BÖTTICH.
Oh, when you love art as I do it is a pleasant task! Just now a very acute thought also occurred to me concerning the cat's boots, and in them I admire the genius of the actor. You see, at first be is a cat; for that reason he must lay aside his natural clothing in order to assume the appropriate disguise of a cat. Then he has to appear fully as a hunter; that is what I conclude, for every one calls him that, nor does a soul marvel at him; an unskilful actor would have dressed himself exactly so too, but what would have happened to our illusion? We might perhaps have forgotten that he was still originally a cat and how uncomfortable a new costume would be for the actor over the fur he already had. By means of the boots, however, he merely skilfully suggests the hunter's costume; and that such suggestions are extremely dramatic, the ancients prove to us very excellently, in often—
FISCHER.
Hush! The third act is beginning.