Chapter XI: 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!