The ancients thought that it was to be considered a great piece of good
fortune if the gods allowed a man to be born in a famous town. But as
this good fortune has not fallen to the share of many famous men, such
towns as Bethlehem, Eisleben, Stratford, Kamenz, Marbach, not having
formerly been particularly brilliant spots in the minds of men, it
probably makes little difference to Hans Unwirrsch that he first saw
the light of the world in a little town called Neustadt. There are not
a few towns and townlets of the same name, but they have not quarreled
with one another for the honor of counting our hero among their
citizens. Johannes Jakob Nikolaus Unwirrsch did not make his birthplace
more famous in the world.
In the year 1819 the place had ten thousand inhabitants; today it has
a hundred and fifty more. It lay and lies in a wide valley, surrounded
by hills and mountains from which forests extend down to the town
limits. In spite of its name it is no longer new; with difficulty it
has maintained its existence through wild centuries, and now enjoys
a quiet, sleepy old age. It has gradually given up the hope of ever
attaining to bigger things and does not feel less comfortable on that
account. However, in the little State to which it belongs it is after
all a factor, and the government is considerate of it. The sound of its
church-bells made a pleasant impression on the wayfarer, as he came
out of the woods on the nearest height; and when the sun just happened
to shine in the windows of the two churches and of the houses the same
wayfarer seldom thought that all is not gold that glitters and that the
sound of bells, fertile fields, green meadows and a pretty little town
in the valley are far from being enough to produce an idyl. Amyntas,
Palaemon, Daphnis, Doris and Chloe were often able to make life down
in the valley very unpleasant for one another. But lads courted and
lasses consented and, taken all in all, they went through life quite
comfortably, to which the fact that the necessaries of life were not
unattainably dear, probably contributed. The devil take dear old
Gessner with all his rustic idyls when fruit and must don't turn out
well and milk and honey are rare in Arcadia!
But we shall have occasion again here and there to drop a few words
about all this, and if not it is of no consequence. For the present we
must turn back to the young Arcadian Hans Unwirrsch and see in what
way he makes himself at home in life.
The shoemaker's widow was truly an uneducated woman. She could scarcely
read and write, her philosophic education had been entirely neglected,
she cried easily and willingly. Born in darkness, she remained in
darkness, nursed her child, stood him on his feet, taught him to walk;
put him on his feet for life and taught him to walk firmly for the rest
of his life. That deserves great credit and the most educated mother
cannot do more for her child.
In a low dark room, into which little fresh air and still less sun
penetrated, Hans awakened to consciousness, and in one respect this
was good; later he was not too much afraid of the caverns in which far
the greater part of humanity that participates in the blessings of
civilization, must spend its life. Throughout his life he took light
and air for what they are, articles of luxury which fortune gives or
refuses and which she seems better pleased to refuse than to give.
The living room which looked out on the street and which had also been
Master Anton's workshop was kept unchanged in its former condition.
With anxious care his widow watched over it to see that none of her
blessed husband's tools was moved from its place. Uncle Grünebaum had
indeed wanted to buy all the superfluous stock in trade for a very fair
price, but Mrs. Christine could not make up her mind to part with any
of it. In all her leisure hours she sat in her usual place beside the
low cobbler's table and in the evening, as we know, she could knit or
sew or spell out the words in her large hymn-book only by the light of
the glass-globe.
The poor woman was now obliged to toil miserably in order to provide
an honest living for herself and her child; in the little bedroom, the
windows of which looked out on the yard, she lay awake many a night,
worrying, while Hans Unwirrsch in his father's big bedstead dreamt of
the large slices of bread and butter and the rolls enjoyed by happier
neighbors' children. Wise Master Grünebaum did what he could for his
relatives; but his trade did not yield to him such blessings as one
might expect from copy-book maxims; he was much too fond of making much
too long speeches at the "Red Ram" and his customers preferred to trust
him with the cure of a pair of sick shoes rather than to order a new
pair from him. He had hard work to keep his own head above water;--but
he was not backward with advice, which he gave willingly and in large
quantities and we regret to have to add that, as is not seldom the
case, the quantity usually did not stand at all in the proper relation
to the quality. Auntie Schlotterbeck, although far from being as wise
as Master Grünebaum, was more practical and it was on her advice that
Mrs. Christine became a washerwoman, who rose in the morning between
two and three o'clock and in the evening at eight, dead tired and
aching all over, came home to satisfy the first, the physical, hunger
of her child and to translate his dreams into reality.
Hans Unwirrsch retained dark, vague, curious memories of this period
in his life and later told his nearest friends about them. From his
earliest childhood he slept lightly and so he was often wakened by the
glimmer of the sulphur match with which his mother lit her lamp in the
cold dark winter night, in order to get ready for her early walk to
work. He lay warm among his pillows and did not move until his mother
bent over him to see whether the click-clack of her slippers had not
wakened the little sleeper. Then he twined his arms about her neck and
laughed, received a kiss and the admonition to go to sleep again quick,
as it wouldn't be day for a long time yet. He followed this advice
either at once, or not until later. In the latter case he watched
the burning lamp, his mother and the shadows on the wall through
half-closed eyelids.
Curiously enough nearly all these early memories were of winter time.
There was a ring of vapor round the flame of the lamp and the breath
was drawn in a cloud toward the light; the frozen window-panes
shimmered, it was bitterly cold, and with the comfort of his warm safe
bed there was mixed for the little watcher the dread of the bitter cold
from which he had to hide his little nose under the cover.
He could not understand why his mother got up so early while it was so
dark and cold and while such mad black shadows passed by on the wall,
nodded, straightened themselves up and bent down. His ideas of the
places where his mother went were still less clearly defined; according
to the mood in which he happened to be he imagined these places to be
more or less pleasant and with his imaginings were mixed all sorts
of details out of fairy-tales and fragments of conversation that he
had heard from grown people and which, in these vague moments between
sleeping and waking, took on more and more variegated colors and mixed
with one another.
At last his mother had finished dressing and bent once more over
the child's bed. Once more he received a kiss, all kinds of good
admonitions and tempting promises so that he should lie still, should
not cry, should go to sleep again soon. To these were added the
assurance that morning and Auntie Schlotterbeck would come soon; the
lamp was blown out, the room sank back into the deepest darkness,
the door squeaked, his mother's steps grew fainter;--sleep took
possession of him again quickly and when he woke the second time
Auntie Schlotterbeck was generally sitting by his bed and the fire was
crackling in the stove in the next room.
Although she was not older than Mrs. Christine Unwirrsch, Auntie
Schlotterbeck had always been Auntie Schlotterbeck. No one in Kröppel
Street knew her by any other name and she was as well known in Kröppel
Street as "Old Fritz," emperor "Napoleum" and old Blücher, although she
bore no other resemblance to these three famous heroes than that she
took snuff like the great Prussian king, and had an aquiline nose like
the "Corsican ravager." As to any resemblance to Marshal "Forward!"
that would indeed have been difficult to find.
Auntie Schlotterbeck had formerly also been a washerwoman but she had
long since been mustered out and managed to make a wretched living by
spinning, knitting stockings and similar work. The city magistrates
had granted her a scanty sum as poor-relief, and Master Anton, whose
very distant relative she was, had, out of kindness, let her have the
little room which she occupied in his house, for a very low price. In
reality she would deserve to have a whole chapter in this book devoted
to her, for she had a gift which not everybody can claim; to her those
who had died had not passed away from the earth, she saw them walking
through the streets, she met them in the marketplaces looking like
living persons and unexpectedly ran into them at the street corners.
There was not the slightest tinge of uncanniness connected with this
to her; she spoke of it as of something perfectly natural, usual, and
there was absolutely no difference to her between the mayor Eckerlein
who had died in the year 1769 and who passed her in front of the "Lion"
pharmacy in his wig and red velvet coat, and his grandchild to whom
in 1820 this same "Lion" pharmacy belonged and who was just looking
out of the window without being able to take any notice of his august
grandfather.
At last even Auntie Schlotterbeck's acquaintances ceased to regard her
gift with any feeling of "creepiness." The incredulous ones stopped
smiling at it and the credulous--of whom there were a good number--no
longer blessed themselves and clapped their hands together over their
heads. This high distinction had no detrimental influence on the
character of the good little woman herself. Auntie Schlotterbeck took
no undue pride in her strange gift of sight; she looked upon it as an
undeserved favor from God and remained humbler than many other people
who did not see nearly as much as the elderly spinster in Kröppel
Street.
As regards appearance, Auntie Schlotterbeck was of medium height but
she stooped very much when she walked and poked her head forward. Her
clothes hung on her like things that were not in their right place, and
her nose, as we have already heard, was very sharp and very hooked.
This nose would have made a disagreeable impression if it had not been
for her eyes. They made up for all the sins her nose committed. They
were remarkable eyes and, as we know, saw remarkable things too. They
remained clear and bright even when she was very, very old,--young,
blue eyes in an old, old dried-up face. Hans Unwirrsch never forgot
them although later he looked into eyes much more beautiful still.
In a naïve way Auntie Schlotterbeck was devoted to learning. She had
tremendous respect for scholarship and especially for theological
learning; little Hans owed her his first introduction to all those
branches of learning which he later mastered more or less. She could
have told fairy-tales to the Grimm brothers and when the wicked queen
drove the golden needle into her hated stepdaughter's head Hans
Unwirrsch felt the point way down to his diaphragm.
Hans and Auntie Schlotterbeck were inseparable companions during the
first years of the boy's life. From early in the morning till late in
the evening the seer of spirits had to fill his mother's place; nothing
that concerned him was done without her advice and assistance; she
satisfied his hunger for many things, but it was through her that he
learnt to know hunger for many other things. Uncle Grünebaum growled
often enough when he came to visit them; nothing good could come of
such companionship with women, he said, the devil take them, one and
all, odd and even; crochets, whimseys and spirit-imaginings were of no
use to any man and only made him an addle-pate and a muddlehead. "It's
nonsense! That's what I say and I'll stick to it."
In answer to such attacks Auntie Schlotterbeck merely shrugged her
shoulders and Hans crept closer to her side. Growling, as he had come,
Uncle Grünebaum departed;--he considered himself exceedingly practical
and clear-headed and snorted contempt through his nose without stopping
to think that even the best pipe stem may become clogged.
Hans Unwirrsch was a precocious child and learnt to speak almost before
he learnt to walk; reading came as easily to him as playing. Auntie
Schlotterbeck understood the difficult art well and only stumbled over
words that were all too long or all too foreign. She liked to read
aloud and with a whining pathos which made the greatest impression on
the child. Her library was composed mainly of the Bible, hymn book and
a long series of popular almanacs which followed one another without
a break from the year 1790 and each of which contained a touching,
a comic or a thrilling story besides a treasury of home and secret
remedies and a fine selection of humorous anecdotes. For the lively
imagination of a child an infinitely rich world was hidden in these
old numbers, and spirits of all sorts rose out of them, smiled and
laughed, grinned, threatened and led the young soul alternately through
thrills of awe and ecstasies. When the rain pelted against the panes,
when the sun shone into the room, when thunderstorms reached across
the roofs with black arms of cloud and hurled their red flashes above
the town, when the thunder rolled and the hail pattered and bounded on
the street pavement, in some way all these things came to be connected
with the figures and scenes in the almanacs and the heroes and heroines
of the stories strode through good and bad weather, perfectly clear,
plain and distinct, past dreamy little Hans who had laid his head in
the old spirit-seer's lap. The story of "good little Jasper and pretty
little Annie" struck a chord in his heart which continued to ring
through Hans' whole life; but the "book of books," the Bible, made a
still greater impression on the boy. The simple grandeur of the first
chapters of Genesis cannot but overwhelm children as well as grown
people, the poor in spirit as well as the millionaires of intellect.
Infinitely credible are these stories of the beginnings of things and
credible they remain even though every day it is more clearly proven
that the world was not created in seven days. At Auntie Schlotterbeck's
feet Hans lost himself with shuddering delight in the dark abyss of
chaos: and the earth was without form and void;--till God divided the
light from the darkness and the waters which were under the firmament
from the waters which were above the firmament. When sun, moon and
stars began their dance and God let them be for signs and for seasons
and for days and years, then he breathed freely again; and when the
earth brought forth grass and herb and the tree yielding fruit, when
the water, the air and the earth brought forth abundantly the moving
creature that hath life and every winged fowl after his kind, then he
clapped his little hands and felt that he stood on firm ground once
more. The manner in which God breathed the breath of life into Adam was
perfectly clear to him and of incontrovertible truth, whereas the first
critical doubt arose in the child's mind when the woman was created out
of the man's rib, for "that must hurt."
But following the simple stories of Paradise, of Cain and Abel, of the
flood, came the numbering of the tribes with the long difficult names.
These names were real bushes of thorns for reader and listener; they
were pitfalls into which they pitched heels over head, they were stones
over which they stumbled and fell on their noses. Ever again they
untangled themselves, rose to their feet and toiled on with reverential
solemnity: but the sons of Gomer are these: Ashkenez, Riphath and
Togarmah; and the sons of Javan are: Elishah, Tarshish, Kittim and
Dodanim.
But the days did not pass entirely in reading and telling stories.
Just as soon as Hans Unwirrsch ceased throwing his hands about in half
involuntary movements or stuffing them into his mouth, his mother and
Auntie Schlotterbeck introduced him to the great principle of work.
Auntie Schlotterbeck was an ingenious woman who earned a little extra
money by dressing dolls for a large toy factory, an occupation which
lay near enough to a child's sphere of interest and in which, before
long, Hans gladly assisted. Ladies and gentlemen, peasant lads and
lasses, shepherds and shepherdesses and many other merry little men
and women of all classes and ages took form under the hands of Auntie
Schlotterbeck, who worked bravely with glue and needle, pieces of
bright-colored fabrics, gold and silver tinsel, and gave to each his
share of these according to the price. It was a philosophic occupation
and the worker might indulge in many thoughts while engaged in it;
Hans Unwirrsch took to it kindly even though his childish joy in these
toys naturally soon disappeared. He who grows up in a shop full of
jumping-jacks cares little for the individual jumping-jack however
motley may be his garb and however funnily he may jerk his arms and
legs.
After Martinmas, which famous day could unfortunately not be celebrated
by the consumption of a roast goose, manufacturing began as an
independent undertaking. Auntie Schlotterbeck was now able to make the
greatest profit out of her talent for plastic art; she built little
men of raisins for the Christmas trade and others of prunes for more
easily satisfied souls. The first prune-man that Hans completed without
assistance gave him just as much pleasure as the disciple of art takes
in the piece of work that wins for him a stipend with which to go to
Italy. The opening of the Christmas-fair was a great event for the
little modeler. Epic poets describe many feelings by explaining why
they cannot describe them; Hans' feelings on this occasion were of that
kind, and with rapture he carried the lantern ahead while, on a little
cart, Auntie Schlotterbeck dragged her bench, her basket, her fire-pan
and a little table to the fair.
The opening of the business, in an angle of the buildings that was
sheltered from the keenest wind, was in itself a marvelous event. To
crouch down under the big old umbrella, to fan the glowing coals in
the fire-pan by blowing on them, to arrange the articles of trade on
the table, the first quiet and yet expectant glance at the bustle
of the fair--all these things had a heart-thrilling charm. The
first prune-man that was bargained about, sold and bought, raised a
genuine storm of ecstacy in the breast of Schlotterbeck & Company.
Dinner, which a good-natured child from Kröppel Street brought in an
earthenware pot, tasted entirely different out on the open market-place
from what it did at home in the dark room; but best of all was the
evening with its fog, its gleaming lights and lamps, and its redoubled
crowding and pushing and shouting and bustling.
The child could not always sit quietly on the bench beside the old
woman. Spellbound, in spite of cold, in spite of rain and snow, he went
on expeditions over the whole market-place and, as a partner in the
firm of Schlotterbeck & Company, he pushed his chin onto the table of
every other firm, with self-assurance and critical attitude.
At eight o'clock his mother came and took the younger partner of the
firm of Schlotterbeck home; but this was not done without opposition,
crying and struggling, and only the assurance that "there would be
another day tomorrow," could, at last, persuade the tiny merchant
prince to leave the business to the care of Auntie till the hour of
closing at eleven o'clock.
One thing that belongs to this period of our hero's life must be
reported. With the money gained by the sale of a raisin-man that he had
made himself, he bought--another raisin-man from a commercial house
which had established itself at the opposite end of the market. This
bore witness to a quality which was of great importance in the boy's
future development. Hans Unwirrsch, who made these black fellows for
others, wanted to know where the pleasure lay in buying such a fellow
oneself. He wanted to get to the bottom of this pleasure and naturally
found no joy in this much too early analysing. When the pennies had
been swept into the drawer by the seller and the purchaser held the
creature in his hand, the full measure of regret took possession of
him. Crying loudly he stood in the middle of the street and finally
threw his purchase far away from him and ran off as fast as he could,
swallowing the bitterest tears as he went. Neither Auntie nor his
mother ever found out where the groschen, for which one could have
bought up the whole fair, had gone.
Winter brings many joys, but with it come also the greatest hardships.
We have to do with very poor people and poor people usually don't
begin to live again till spring and the may-beetles come. Hundreds of
thousands, millions of people might well envy those happy creatures
that sleep through the cold days in comfortable unconsciousness.
After Christmas Eve, which was kept as well as it could be, came New
Year's Day and after that the Three Wise Men of the East approached.
The shades of many of those who were dead passed Auntie Schlotterbeck
in the streets at this time, or entered the church with her and walked
round the altar. After Candlemas some people said that the days were
growing longer but it wasn't very noticeable yet. By the time the
Annunciation came, however, the fact could no longer be denied; the
snowdrops had dared to come out, the snow could no longer keep the
world buried, the buds swelled and burst open, Auntie Schlotterbeck's
nose lost much of its redness; when Hans' mother got up early in the
morning now the lamp no longer shone through a frosty circle of vapor.
Hans Unwirrsch no longer yelled blue murder in front of the wash basin,
and his feet did not now have to be forced into his shoes. The means
of keeping warm was no longer carted into town by loutish wood-cutters
and sold at a "wicked price." The days now arrived when the sun shone
for nothing and did not even ask a word of thanks. Palm Sunday came
before anyone realized it and Easter started the weaving of the wreath
which the festival of joy, the verdant, blooming, jubilant Whitsuntide
pressed on the young year's brow. Auntie Schlotterbeck now did her
knitting on the bench in front of the door, and earnestly and shyly
Hans Unwirrsch watched Freudenstein, the junk-dealer across the street,
as he pushed his little Moses, a delicate, thin, miserable little piece
of humanity, well packed up in cushions and covers, out into the sun on
a wheelchair.
SUMMARY OF CHAPTERS III, IV AND V
[The boy, Hans Unwirrsch, was much admired and spoilt by his mother and
Auntie Schlotterbeck and it was a good thing for him when he grew to be
of school age. He was sent to the charity school. It stood in a dark,
blind alley and was a damp, one-story building in which the teacher,
Karl Silberlöffel, had to fight equally against gout and tuberculosis
and against the rude boys and girls he taught. Hans was no better than
his school-fellows. Just as at home he gradually sought to free himself
from the absolute dominion of the women and began to criticize fairy
tales and almanac stories, so too at school he joined his comrades with
word and deed in all their mischievous enterprises against the helpless
old master.
Here, however, Uncle Grünebaum's beneficial influence stepped in. Hans
often visited his uncle in the latter's untidy workshop where he only
did enough work to earn a scanty living for himself and his birds
and to pay for the _Post Courier_ which provided him with political
reading. It was particularly interesting just at that time because the
Greek struggle for independence against the Turks was raging and our
cobbler, like Auntie Schlotterbeck, was an enthusiastic Philhellenist.
He called Hans to account and tried to make it clear to him that he and
his school-fellows would drive their consumptive master into his grave
by their behavior and that it was no laughing matter to have a murder
on one's conscience. He advised Hans to be careful that the devil did
not take him, together with the other rogues, because of his conduct.
Such conversation had its effect. Hans did not take part in the next
conspiracy, and did not regret the pummeling he received from the other
boys on that account, for the next morning the teacher did not appear
at school in consequence of a hemorrhage. Not long after he died. Uncle
Grünebaum and Auntie Schlotterbeck were kind to him during his last
illness, and Hans with Auntie Schlotterbeck stood beside the bed of
the dying man. The exhausted man spoke of the bitterness of his life,
but Auntie Schlotterbeck understood little and Hans nothing of what
he said. He talked of how he had been hungry for love and thirsty for
knowledge and of how everything else had been as nothing; of how he had
lived in the shade and yet had been born for the light; of how shining,
golden fruit had fallen all around him, while his hands were bound.
Nothing had fallen to his share but his yearning, and that too was
coming to an end. He would be satisfied--in death.
Much as Hans had felt the solemn shudder of death, on the day after
the funeral, which had been attended by the whole charity school, he
was already playing again merrily in the street. Snow had fallen in
the night and a mighty snowman was built in Kröppel Street. When he
was finished and the boys were playing together, Moses Freudenstein,
the junk-dealer's son, happened to get into the crowd. They formed a
ring about him and made him hold out his hand to each in turn and every
young Christian spit into it with a shout of scorn. Up to that hour
Hans had howled with the wolves in such things too, but now it flashed
through him in an instant that something very low and cowardly was
being done. He did not spit into Moses' hand, but struck it away and,
turning protector, started to do battle for the Jewish boy. A fearful
fight ensued, the end of which was that Hans and Moses, dizzy, bruised,
with bleeding mouths and swollen eyes, rolled down into the shop of
the junk-dealer, Samuel Freudenstein. This hour had an incalculable
influence on Hans Unwirrsch's life, for he rolled out of the street
battle into relations which were to be infinitely important for him.
Samuel Freudenstein had seen more of the world than all the other
Neustädians together. After extensive commercial journeys, especially
in Southeastern Europe, he had settled in Neustadt and begun to trade
in second-hand goods and junk, as heavy losses in a speculation
prevented his embarking on a greater enterprise. He got on, and
married, but his wife died at the birth of their son in 1819, on the
very day when Hans Unwirrsch, too, was born. Samuel Freudenstein
brought up his son in his own way, which in many respects differed
widely from the curriculum of the charity school.
Samuel thanked Hans for the protection he had given Moses, and Hans'
mother and Uncle Grünebaum allowed him to continue his visits to the
Jew's house. Hans now discovered so many wonders in the gloom of the
junkshop that for the first time his life seemed to be filled with real
substance. At the same time he mounted a rung higher on the ladder of
knowledge by entering the lowest class of the grammar school. On this
occasion Uncle Grünebaum did not fail to make one of his finest and
longest speeches and to present Hans with his first pair of high boots.
Now, too, for the first time Hans entered into a more intimate relation
with the other sex. He found his first love, Sophie, the daughter of an
apple-woman. With her cat, Sophie sat in her mother's booth opposite
the school, sold her fruit with seriousness and had difficulty, on her
way home, in defending herself and her cat from the rough schoolboys.
Hans lent her his protection and he and Moses kept up a friendly
intercourse with her through the spring and summer. But in the course
of the winter one of the diseases of childhood carried her off,
and her companion, the cat, did not long outlive her. The death of
little Sophie and the cat made a deep impression on Hans. He did not
become friends with any other girl at present; but from now on the
second-hand shop gained an ever greater influence over him.
In this enchanted cave Hans saw the father, Samuel, going about, like
a magician, with brush and glue-pot, stuffing birds and quadrupeds,
collecting curious goblets and tankards, buying up odd portraits of
other people's ancestors. He listened attentively when father and son
talked of the history of their race, he lost himself completely in old
Dutch descriptions of travel, with their copperplates, one day he even
saw a real ostrich-egg. Moses was far ahead of Hans in all branches
of knowledge. Samuel Freudenstein had taught his son that knowledge
and money were the two most effective means of power and now they were
both indefatigable, the son in acquiring the former, the father in
accumulating the latter. Things were well classified in Moses' head,
he could find what he wanted there, any minute;--he had never been a
child, a real, true, natural child.
Hans Unwirrsch, on the other hand, remained a real child. His
imagination still retained its dominion over his reason; the circle in
which he stood, like any other human child, now expanded and became
filled with ever gayer, brighter, more enticing figures, scenes and
dreams.
One evening Hans came meditatively out of the darkness of the junkshop,
hurried across to his mother's house and there, in answer to Auntie
Schlotterbeck's questions, blurted out that Moses was going to learn
Latin and go to the "Gymnasium" while he should have to be a cobbler
and stay a cobbler all his life. Unfortunately for Hans these words
were overheard by Uncle Grünebaum, who happened to be present and whom
Hans had not noticed. There followed a dangerous scene. First Auntie
Schlotterbeck had to protect Hans so that his indignant relative,
as uncle, godfather, guardian, and master of the laudable trade of
shoemaking, did not half kill him but merely squeezed him between
his knees and talked urgently to him till Hans, yielding to the
double pressure, declared himself to be in thorough agreement with
his uncle's views. Then Auntie Schlotterbeck changed from defence
to attack. She read Uncle Grünebaum a lecture on his own conduct,
reminding him that he was not looked up to anywhere but on the bench
behind his mug of beer in the "Red Ram," that he neglected his house
and trade and was indeed no shining example of what the trade of
shoemaking turned out. When she finally threatened to call Frau
Christine to her aid the doughty cobbler speedily took a flight.
In the evening, however, he appeared as a hero in the "Red Ram," where
he conducted himself like a great politician, for which rôle the
news, which had just come, of the outbreak of a revolution in Paris,
offered him a splendid opportunity. He finally went to bed rather
tipsy and fully convinced of his greatness, and slept the sleep of
the just, which Hans Unwirrsch did not do, nor his mother, nor Auntie
Schlotterbeck either.]