The Goose Man
Daniel gradually gained followers. Those whom the "little slave" won
over to his cause were hardly to be called patrons: they were patriots.
They were delighted at the thought that a _maestro_ should have been
born and risen to fame in soulful old Franconia. In the actual life of
their protege they took but little interest.
Daniel's followers were young people.
Professor Herold was a strange man. His reputation reached far beyond
the boundaries of his native province, and yet, owing to his whimsical
peculiarities, he had not the slightest desire to leave home. On such
sons and daughters of the natives as were diligent in their pursuit of
musical studies, he poured out the whole of his sarcasm. His chief, his
darling ambition was to wean them away from their fondness for worthless
music and clap-trap performances of it. He did not succeed: you were not
considered educated unless you could play the piano, and in the homes of
these merchants education was highly regarded.
Enticed by his name, all kinds of people came from a distance to take
lessons from Professor Herold. Having read the score of "Vineta," he
said to two of these: "Fetch me that fellow dead or alive." And they
fetched him.
The two came more frequently to Daniel, and then others, pupils of
Professors Wackerbarth and Doederlein. At times he would take luncheon
with them in the students' restaurant. We will call them the
long-haired, or the pale-faced. Many of them looked like snake-charmers.
They were almost without exception hopelessly stupid, but they all had
some kind of a bee in their bonnet.
There were some young girls among them; we will call them the
dreamy-eyed, or the lost-in-dreams. Daniel had no use for them
whatsoever. His patience with the long-haired was equally lacking.
He told "the old man," as Professor Herold was called, of his antipathy
to these students. Professor Herold snapped like a vicious dog, brushed
the white bristles back over his enormous head, and said: "Well, my
young original, you have made a discovery. Don't you know that music
cajoles into its magic circle the very riff-raff of any community? Don't
you know that music is a subterfuge for the neglect of human duty? Don't
you know that the voluptuous fumes it spreads over the cities results in
the general corrosion and consumption of men's hearts? Don't you know
that of every five hundred so-called artists, four hundred and
ninety-nine are nothing but the cripple guard of God above? Therefore he
who does not come to music with the holiest fire burning in the depths
of his soul has his blood in time transformed by it into glue, his mind
into a heap of rubbish."
Whereat he pushed Daniel out of the door, so that he might work
undisturbed on his little pictures. Of these the walls of his room were
full. He painted them in his leisure hours. They were small in size, and
smaller still in merit; but he was proud of them. They represented
scenes from country life.
II
On New Year's Eve, Doermaul, the impresario, gave a dinner in the Little
Swan, to which he invited Daniel. Doermaul was quite well disposed toward
Daniel. He said he had recognised the young man's talents at the sight
of his very first note. He promised to publish "Vineta" and also the
work Daniel had finished in the meantime, entitled "Nuremberg Serenade."
He also seemed inclined to consider favourably Daniel's appointment in
his newly founded opera company.
Among those present at the dinner were Professors Herold and
Wackerbarth, Wurzelmann, a few of the long-haired and a few of the
lost-in-dreams. Andreas Doederlein had promised to come in later. He
appeared, as a matter of fact, five minutes before midnight, and stood
in the wide-opened door as ceremonious as the New Year itself.
He went up to Daniel, and extended him his right hand.
"Look who's here! Our Benjamin and our John, not to mention our Daniel,"
he said, glancing at the last of the trio. "Congratulations, my young
star! What do the annals from Andreas Doederlein's nose for news have to
report? Back in Bayreuth, when we used to draw our wine by the flask, he
merely had to sniffle around a bit to know just how things were. Isn't
that true, Benjamin?"
Nobody denied it. Benjamin let right yield to mercy. The mighty man
removed his storm-cape from his shoulders as though it were ermine he
were doffing before condescending to associate with ordinary mortals.
Professor Wackerbarth had a wife who beat him and gave him nothing to
eat: he regarded this as a rare opportunity to eat his fill and have a
good time generally. But it was a poor sort of a good time.
One of the long-haired sang the champagne song, and Wurzelmann made a
witty speech. Doederlein suggested that now was the time to let the mice
dance and the fleas hop. When one of the lost-in-dreams sang David's
March, which according to the rules of Bayreuth could not be classed as
real music, Doederlein exclaimed: "Give me Lethe, my fair one." By
"Lethe" he meant punch.
Daniel drank Lethe too. He embraced old Herold, shook hands with Andreas
Doederlein, and tried to waltz with Wurzelmann. He was not drunk; he was
merely happy.
Then it became too close for him in the room. He took his hat, put on
his overcoat, and hurried out.
The air was warm, mild. A south wind was blowing. Heaven above, heaven
below, the houses were standing on clouds. One breath made him thirsty
for the next one. There was a bay-window; it was so beautiful that he
felt like kneeling before it. There was a fountain; it was so snug and
exotic that it seemed like a poem. There were the arches of the bridge;
in them was the dim reflection of the water. There were two towers; they
were as delicate as a spider's web.
He rejoiced and exclaimed: "Oh world, art thou real? Art thou my world,
and am I living in thee? My world, my year, my time, and I in it all, I
myself!"
III
He stood on AEgydius Place, and looked up at the windows in Jordan's
house. They were all dark.
He wanted to call out, but the name that was on his lips filled him with
anxiety. The passionate flutter of his heart almost tore his breast
asunder.
He had to do something; he had to speak; he had to ask questions and
hear a human voice. Consequently, he hurried out to the Fuell, stood
under Benda's window, and called Benda's name. The clocks struck three.
The blinds were soon drawn to one side, and Benda's stoutish figure
appeared at the open window. "Daniel? Is it you? What's up?"
"Nothing. I merely wanted to bring you New Year's greetings."
"Do you think you are bringing me something good? Go home and go to
bed."
"Ah, let me come in a little while, Friedrich. Let's chat for a moment
or two about happiness!"
"Be reasonable! We might frighten happiness away by our talk."
"Philistine! Well, give me your blessing at least."
"You have it. Now go, night owl, and let the people sleep."
Another window opened on the ground floor. Herr Carovius's desolate
nocturnal physiognomy appeared at the window, looked up, looked down on
the disturber of the peace on the street, and with one mighty grim,
grinning sound on his lips, his revengeful fist swinging in the
meanwhile, the indignant man closed the window with a bang.
Something impelled Daniel to return to AEgydius Place. Again he looked up
at the windows, this time beseechingly. The storm within his heart
became more violent. For a long time he ran through the streets, and
reached home at last along toward five o'clock.
As he passed through the dark hall, he saw a light up on the landing.
Meta was carrying it. She was already stirring about, ready to begin her
morning's work. He hesitated; he looked at her; with three steps he was
by her side.
"So late?" she whispered with premonitory embarrassment, and began to
finger her dress, which she had not yet buttoned up.
"Oh, what a joy to take hold of a living human being on this glorious
day!" he exclaimed.
She offered some resistance, but when he tried to take her into her
room, she bent her body backward, and thus pressed about his wrist. She
was still carrying the light.
"Oh, if you only knew how I feel, Meta. I need you. Hold me tight in
your arms."
She made no more resistance. Perhaps she too was not without her fervent
desire. Perhaps it was the time of day that made nature more insistent
than usual. Perhaps she was suffering from loneliness in the company of
the three sisters. It was still night and dark; but for her it was
already day; it was the first day in the year, and she greeted it in
festive mood. She yielded to him.
She was a virgin; she had no idea of the responsibility she was taking
upon herself. Man had never been exactly a mystery to her, but now she
felt for the first time the congenerous creature--and she gave in to
him.
Daniel returned to earth after having knocked at the portals of the gods
with tremendous wishes. The gods smiled their profoundest smile; for
they had decided to have an especial fate arise from this hour.
IV
A meeting of the Social Democrats was being held in Gosten Court. They
had met to discuss the Chancellor's speech on accident insurance.
The first speaker was Deputy Stoerbecker. But his voice had no carrying
power, and what he said died away almost unheard.
Jason Philip Schimmelweis followed him. He presented a fearful
indictment of the government. The official representative of the
government advised him to be more reserved, whereupon he reinvigorated
himself with a draught of beer. Then he hurled the full beaker of that
wrathful scorn for which his heart, beating for the people, was noted,
at the head of the individual who was first and foremost responsible for
the affairs of the Empire. He did not mention Bismarck by name; he spoke
instead of a certain bogey. He snatched the halo from his head, swore
that he would some day unmask him and show the people that he was a
traitor, branded his fame as a tissue of lies, his deeds as the disgrace
of the century.
The venomous and eloquent hatred of the pudgy little man inflamed the
minds that drank in his oratory. Jason Philip was greeted with a tumult
of applause as he took his seat. His face was a bright scarlet red.
The leaders of the party, however, were noticeably quiet. In a moment or
two, Deputy Stoerbecker returned with two comrades eager to enter into a
debate with Jason Philip. He followed them into a side room. Exalted at
the thought that they had been delegated to express to him the gratitude
of the party for his speech, he smiled the smile of vanity and caressed
his beard with his fingers.
"What is the matter, gentlemen? Why are you so serious? Did I go too
far? I assume complete responsibility for everything I said. But be
calm! They are getting afraid of us. The air has a dubious odour. The
French are becoming cantankerous again."
"No, Comrade Schimmelweis, that is not it. You have got to vindicate
yourself. You are a Proteus, Comrade Schimmelweis. Your right hand does
not know what your left hand is doing. You are treating us
disgracefully. You are ploughing in the widow's garden. You preach water
and guzzle wine. You have entered into a conspiracy with the grafters of
the town. You are in collusion with the people down at the Prudentia,
and you are filling your own coffers in this gigantic swindle. From
morning to night you enrich yourself with the hard-earned pennies of the
poor. That is sharp practice, Jason Philip Schimmelweis, sharp practice,
we say. Now you have got to sever all connection with the Prudentia, or
the Party is going to kick you out."
Then it was that Jason Philip Schimmelweis rose to his true heights of