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When HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY, WITH OTHER BALLADS, appeared,
the only claim made on its behalf was, that it constituted the
first book ever written in English as imperfectly spoken by
Germans. The author consequently held himself bound to give his
broken English a truthful form. So far as observation and care,
aided by the suggestions of well-educated German friends, could
enable him to do this, it was done. But the more extensive were
his observations, the more did the fact force itself upon his
mind, that there is actually no well-defined method or standard
of "German-English," since not only do no two men speak it alike,
but no one individual is invariably consistent in his errors or
accuracies. Every reader who knows any foreign language
imperfectly is aware that HE SPEAKS IT BETTER AT ONE TIME THAN
ANOTHER, and it would consequently have been a grave error to
reduce the broken and irregular jargon of the book to a fixed and
regular language, or to require that the author should invariably
write exactly the same mispronunciations with strict consistency
on all occasions.
The opinion -- entirely foreign to any intention of the
author -- that Hans Breitmann is an embodied satire on everything
German, has found very few supporters, and it is with the
greatest gratification that he has learned that educated and
intelligent Germans regard Hans as a jocose burlesque of a type
which is every day becoming rarer. And if Teutonic philosophy
and sentiment, beer, music, and romance, have been made the
medium for what many reviewers have kindly declared to be
laughter-moving, let the reader be assured that not a single word
was meant in a bitter or unkindly spirit. It is true that there
is always a standpoint from which any effort may be misjudged,
but this standpoint certainly did not occur to the writer when he
wrote, with anything but misgiving, of his "hearty,
hard-fighting, good-natured old ex-student," who, in the
political ballads and others, appears to no moral disadvantage by
the side of his associates.
Breitmann in several ballads is indeed a very literal copy
or combination of characteristics of men who really exist or
existed, and who had in their lives embraced as many extremes of
thought as the Captain. America abounds with Germans, who,
having received in their youth a "classical education," have
passed through varied adventures, and often present the most
startling paradoxes of thought and personal appearance. I have
seen bearing a keg a porter who could speak Latin fluently. I
have been in a beer-shop kept by a man who was distinguished in
the Frankfurt Parliament. I have found a graduate of the
University of Munich in a negro minstrel troupe. And while
mentioning these as proof that Breitmann, as I have depicted him,
is not a contradictory character, I cannot refrain from a word of
praise as to the energy and patience with which the German "under
a cloud" in America bears his reverses, and works cheerfully and
uncomplainingly, until, by sheer perseverance, he, in most cases,
conquers fortune. In this respect the Germans, as a race, and I
might almost say as individuals, are superior to any others on
the American continent. And if I have jested with the German new
philosophy, it is with the more seriousness that I here
acknowledge the deepest respect for that true practical
philosophy of life -- that well-balanced mixture of stoicism and
epicurism -- which enables Germans to endure and to ENJOY under
circumstances when other men would probably despair.
Breitmann is one of the battered types of the men of '48 --
a person whose education more than his heart has in every way led
him to entire scepticism or indifference -- and one whose
Lutheranism does not go beyond "Wein, Weib, und Gesang." Beneath
his unlimited faith in pleasure lie natural shrewdness, an
excellent early education, and certain principles of honesty and
good fellowship, which are all the more clearly defined from his
moral looseness in details which are identified in the
Anglo-Saxon mind with total depravity. In such a man, the
appreciation of the beautiful in nature may be keen, but it will
continually vanish before humour or mere fun; while having no
deep root in life or interests in common with the settled
Anglo-Saxon citizen, he cannot fail to appear at times to the
latter as a near relation to Mephistopheles. But his "mockery"
is as accidental and naif as that of Jewish Young Germany is keen
and deliberate; and the former differs from the latter as the
drollery of Abraham a Santa Clara differs from the brilliant
satire of Heine.
The reader should be fairly warned that these poems abound
in words, phrases, suggestions, and even couplets, borrowed to
such an extent from old ballads and other sources, as to make
acknowledgement in many cases seem affectation. Where this has
appeared to be worth the while, it has been done. The lyrics
were written for a laugh -- without anticipating publication, so
far as a number of the principal ones in the first volume were
concerned, and certainly without the least idea that they would
be extensively and closely criticised by eminent and able
reviewers. Before the compilation the "Barty" had almost passed
from the writer's memory, several other songs of the same
character by him were quite forgotten, while a number had formed
portions of letters to friends, by one of whom a few were
published in a newspaper. When finally urged by many who were
pleased with "Breitmann" to issue these humble lyrics in book
form, it was with some difficulty that the first volume was
brought together.
The excuse for the foregoing observations is the unexpected
success of a book which is of itself of so eccentric a character
as to require some explanation. For its reception from the
public, and the kindness and consideration with which it has been
treated by the press, the author can never be sufficiently
grateful.
CHARLES G. LELAND
London, 1871.