The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English. in Twenty Volumes
General
The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English. in Twenty Volumes
German literature -- 19th century -- Translations into English; German literature -- 20th century -- Translations into English
That figure never disappears from my memory. I still see him, high on
his steed, with eternal eyes in his marble-like, imperial face, glancing
calm as destiny on the Guards defiling past--he was then sending them to
Russia, and the old Grenadiers glanced up at him so terribly devoted, so
all-consciously serious, so proud in death--
"Te, Cæsar, morituri, salutant."
There often steals over me a secret doubt whether I ever really saw him,
if we were ever contemporaries, and then it seems to me as if his
portrait, torn from the little frame of the present, vanished away more
proudly and imperiously in the twilight of the past. His name even now
sounds to us like a word of the early world, and as antique and as
heroic as those of Alexander and Cæsar. It has already become a
rallying word among races, and when the East and the West meet they
fraternize on that single name.
I once felt, in the deepest manner, how significantly and magically that
name can sound. It was in the harbor of London, at the India Docks, and
on board an East India-man just arrived from Bengal. It was a giant-like
ship, fully manned with Hindoos. The grotesque forms and groups, the
singularly variegated dresses, the enigmatical expressions of
countenance, the strange gestures, the wild and foreign ring of their
language, their shouts of joy and their laughter, with the seriousness
ever rising and falling on certain soft yellow faces, their eyes like
black flowers which looked at me as with wondrous woe--all of this awoke
in me a feeling like that of enchantment; I was suddenly as if
transported into Scherezade's story, and I thought that broad-leaved
palms, and long-necked camels, and gold-covered elephants, and other
fabulous trees and animals must forthwith appear. The supercargo who was
on the vessel, and who understood as little of the language as I myself,
could not, in his truly English narrow-mindedness, narrate to me enough
of what a ridiculous race they were, nearly all pure Mohammedans
collected from every land of Asia, from the limits of China to the
Arabian Sea, there being even some jet-black, woolly-haired Africans
among them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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