From the Wandsbecker Bote

A happy new year! A happy new year to my dear country, the land of old

integrity and truth! A happy new year to friends and enemies, Christians

and Turks, Hottentots and Cannibals! To all on whom God permits his sun

to rise and his rain to fall! Also to the poor negro slaves who have to

work all day in the hot sun. It's wholly a glorious day, the New Year's

Day! At other times I can bear that a man should be a little bit

patriotic, and not make court to other nations. True, one must not speak

evil of any nation. The wiser part are everywhere silent; and who would

revile a whole nation for the sake of the loud ones? As I said, I can

bear at other times that a man should be a little patriotic: but on New

Year's Day my patriotism is dead as a mouse, and it seems to me on that

day as if we were all brothers, and had one Father who is in heaven; as

if all the goods of the world were water which God has created for all

men, as I once heard it said.

And so I am accustomed, every New Year's morning, to sit down on a stone

by the wayside, to scratch with my staff in the sand before me, and to

think of this and of that. Not of my readers. I hold them in all honor:

but on New Year's morning, on the stone by the wayside, I think not of

them; but I sit there and think that during the past year I saw the sun

rise so often, and the moon,--that I saw so many rainbows and flowers,

and breathed the air so often, and drank from the brook,--and then I do

not like to look up, and I take with both hands my cap from my head and

look into that.

Then I think also of my acquaintances who have died during the year; and

how they can talk now with Socrates and Numa, and other men of whom I

have heard so much good, and with John Huss. And then it seems as if

graves opened round me, and shadows with bald crowns and long gray

beards came out of them and shook the dust out of their beards. That

must be the work of the "Everlasting Huntsman," who has his doings about

the twelfth. The old pious long-beards would fain sleep. But a glad new

year to your memory and to the ashes in your graves!

Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 09 · 第 185 / 286 题