The Prose Writings of Heinrich HeineHeine, Heinrich
General
The Prose Writings of Heinrich Heine
Heine, Heinrich
Heine, Heinrich, 1797-1856 -- Translations into English
horse, and looked down on the motley crowd.
Neighbour Peter and Long Conrad nearly broke their necks on this
occasion, and that would have been well, for the one afterwards ran away
from his parents, enlisted as a soldier, deserted, and was finally shot
in Mayence, while the other, having made geographical researches in
strange pockets, became a working member of a public tread-mill
institute. But having broken the iron bands which bound him to his
fatherland, he passed safely beyond sea, and eventually died in London,
in consequence of wearing a much too long cravat, one end of which
happened to be firmly attached to something, just as a royal official
removed a plank from beneath his feet.
Long Conrad told us there was no school to-day on account of the homage.
We had to wait a long time till this was over. At last the balcony of
the Council House was filled with gay gentlemen, flags and trumpets, and
our burgomaster, in his celebrated red coat, delivered an oration, which
stretched out like India rubber, or like a night-cap into which one has
thrown a stone--only that it was not the stone of wisdom--and I could
distinctly understand many of his phrases, for instance, that "we are
now to be made happy"--and at the last words the trumpets and drums
sounded, and the flags waved, and the people cried Hurrah!--and as I
myself cried Hurrah! I held fast to the old Prince Elector. And that was
necessary, for I began to grow giddy; it seemed to me that the people
were standing on their heads while the world whizzed around, and the
Prince Elector, with his long wig, nodded and whispered, "Hold fast to
me!"--and not till the cannon re-echoed along the wall did I become
sobered, and climbed slowly down from the great bronze horse.
As I went home I saw crazy Aloysius again dancing on one leg, while he
chattered the names of French generals, and crooked Gumpertz was rolling
in the gutter drunk, and growling _ça ira, ça ira_--and I said to my
mother that we were all to be made happy, and so there was no school
to-day.
CHAPTER VII.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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