And the speech is a humorous imitation of those which great men are in the habit of making on such occasions: This is an hour which to him will be ever memorable. They lie who say that he has joined the dogs; the idea of becoming court-councillor to the lambs has never even occurred to him. From time to time he has dressed himself in a sheepskin, but only for the sake of the warmth; he is and always will be a wolf.
In the scene between the poet and the strapping woman with the mural crown who represents Hamburg, we have, as Heine himself informs us, a direct imitation of the wedding of Peithetaerus and Basileia in The Birds. It is wanton and boyishly frolicsome; its licentiousness is really more offensive than that of similar passages in Aristophanes, who never appears in his own plays except in defence of himself as a poet. Heine does not go the same length as Aristophanes, but he is more personal.
In Atta Troll the parallel between the two poets is still more obvious. Here Heine's imagination has freer play, because the hero is not a man, but a bear. There is fine fancy in the passage where the bear, after his flight, is described dancing for his cubs in the moonlight. There is inimitable humour in his declamation against the rights of man, and in his boast of the more ancient rights of bears, which recalls the charming parabasis in The Birds, in which it is established that the bird world is the oldest: Everything proceeds from the original egg, the egg of Night, Love first of all, and the birds are children of Love. Atta Troll's pride in the animal world is most amusing, especially so because Heine manages to insinuate into the bear's utterances sarcastic hits at persons whom he himself wishes to depreciate—Freiligrath, for instance, whose popular but foolish poem, Löwenritt, and infelicitous Mohrenkönig had roused his mirthful derision:
"Giebt es nicht gelehrte Hunde?
Und auch Pferde, welche rechnen?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Schreiben Esel nicht Kritiken?
Spielen Affen nicht Komödie?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Singen nicht die Nachtigallen?
Ist der Freiligrath kein Dichter?
Wer besäng' den Löwen besser?
Als sein Landsmann, das Kamel?"[7]
[7] Are there not such things as learned
Dogs, and horses too, who reckon?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Write not asses criticisms?
Are not apes all good comedians?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Are not nightingales good singers?
And is Freiligrath no poet?
Who can sing of lions better
Than their countryman, the camel?*
(BOWRING)
*In German slang "camel" is equivalent to "blockhead."
A good deal of what the bear says, sounds like satire on foolish communistic democracy. He holds forth volubly against property—bears are born without pockets, but men have pockets and stuff them; and discourses eagerly on equality:
"Strenge Gleichheit! Jeder Esel
Sei befugt zum höchsten Staatsamt,
Und der Löwe soll dagegen
Mit dem Sack zur Mühle traben."[8]
[8] Strict equality! Each donkey
Be entitled to high office;
On the other hand, the lion
Carry to the mill the sack.
(BOWRING)
But on the whole it is harmless, stingless satire, fantastical banter alike of the clerical party and communists, misanthropes and revolutionists, cosmopolitans and patriots—for the bear speaks like them all in turn. A very wonderful passage is Atta Troll's sermon against atheism and its development from his deism, the passage beginning: