Schilsky

“ But Schilsky thumped his fist on the lid, and said, if Krafft did not sing it, no one should; and that was the end of the matter. Krafft was pulled to the piano.
Schilsky took his seat, and, losing his nervousness as soon as he touched the keys, preluded firmly and easily, with his large, white hands. Now, every one leaned forward to see him better; especially the ladies threw themselves into positions from which they could watch hair and hands, and the slender, swaying figure. ”

“ Oh, he has talent, great talent, has young Schilsky! This is not the usual work of a pupil. It has form, and it has ideas, and it is new and daring. I know one of the motives from hearing Franz play it," and she hummed a theme as she replaced on the shelf, the scrupulously cleaned pot. "For such a young man, it is wonderful; but he will do better still, depend upon it, he will." ”

“ You don't know Lulu. I am her master, I tell you. She can't call her soul her own."
"And yet," said Krafft, unmoved, "it's a fact all the same."
Schilsky applied a pair of curling tongs to his hair, at such a degree of heat that a lock frizzled, and came off in his hand. His anger redoubled. "Is it my fault that she acts like a wet-nurse? Is that what you call being under her thumb?" he cried.
Furst tried to conciliate him and to make peace. "You're a lucky dog, old fellow, and you know you are. We all know it—in spite of occasional tantaras. ”

“ Krafft was silent, but Furst kissed his finger-tips to a large hanging photograph of the girl in question, and was facetious on the subject of dark, sallow women.
"And you, Heinz? What do you say?" demanded Schilsky with growing impatience.
Still Krafft did not reply, and Schilsky was mastered by a violent irritation.
"Why the devil can't you open your mouth? What's the matter with you? Have YOU anything like that to show—you Joseph, you?"
Krafft let a waxen hand drop over the side of the sofa and trail on the floor. ”

“ Schilsky winced as though he had been struck. Her age—she was eight years older than he—was one of his sorest points.
“Oh, come on, now,” said Furst as he poured out the coffee. “That’s hardly fair. She’s not so young as she might be, it’s true, but no one can hold a candle to her still. Lulu is Lulu.”
“Ten minutes before the registrar,” continued Krafft, meditatively shaking his head. “And for the rest of life, chains. And convention. And security, which stales. ”

“ In answer to Schilsky, he said faintly, without opening his eyes: "Nothing would. You are an ox. When I wake this morning, with a mouth like gum arabic, he sits there as if he had not stirred all night. Then to bed, and snores till midday, through all the hellish light and noise."
Here Furst could not resist making a little joke. He announced himself by a chuckle-like the click of a clock about to strike.
"He's got to make the most of his liberty. He doesn't often get off duty. We know, we know." He laughed tonelessly, and winked at Krafft. ”

“ The only answer Schilsky gave was a muttered request to cease making an idiot of himself.
This was going rather too far; but no one protested, except Ford, the pianist, who said in English: “Speesch? Call that a speesch?”
Furst, inclined in the first moment of rebuff to be touchy, allowed his natural goodness of heart to prevail. He leaned forward, and said, not without pathos: “Old man, we are all your friends here. Something’s the matter. Tell us what it is.”
Before Schilsky could reply, Krafft awakened from his apparent stupor to say with extreme distinctness: “I’ll tell you. ”

“ Schilsky was nowhere to be seen. Half a week later, the same thing was repeated, except that on this day, she made herself prettier than ever: she was like some gay, garden flower, in a big white hat, round the brim of which lay scarlet poppies, and a dress of a light blue, which heightened the colour of her cheeks, and, reflected in her eyes, made them bluer than a fjord in the sun. But her spirits were low; if she did not see him this time, despair would crush her.
But she did—saw him while she was still some distance off, standing near the portico of the Conservatorium ”

“ Furst—he had proved to be a jolly little man, who, with unbuttoned vest, absorbed large quantities of beer and perspired freely—Furst alone was of the opinion, which he expressed forcibly, in his hearty Saxon dialect, that had Schilsky left Leipzig at this particular time, he would have been a fool indeed. ”

“ Then Furst grew obstreperous, and wanted to pour his beer on the floor as soon as it was set before him, so that they were put out of two places, in the second of which they left Krafft. But the better half of the night was over before Schilsky was comfortably drunk, and in a state to unbosom himself to a sympathetic waitress, about the hardship it was to be bound to some one older than yourself. ”

“ But Krafft's first words made him start.
Having watched him for some time, the latter said slowly. "I say, old fellow, are you sure it's all square about Lulu and this Dresden business?"
Razor in hand, Schilsky turned and looked at him. As he did so, he coloured, and answered with an over-anxious haste: "Of course I am. I made her go. She didn't want to."
"That's a well-known trick."
The young man scowled and thrust out his under-lip. "Do you think I'm not up to their tricks? Do you want to teach me how to manage a woman? I tell you I sent her away." ”

“ An English chap shot himself on her account.”
“You don’t say!” drawled his companion. “It’s a queer thing, how common suicide’s getting to be. You can’t pick up a noospaper, nowadays, without finding some fool or other has blown his brains out.”
“Look out!—here they come.”
Behind the thick glass doors, Schilsky became visible. He was talking volubly to a Jewish-looking stranger in a fur-lined coat. His hat was pushed far back on his forehead ”

“ As they went, he passed in review the important items of the day: so-and-so had strained a muscle, so-and-so had spoilt a second piano. But his particular interest centred upon that evening’s ABENDUNTERHALTUNG. A man named Schilsky, whom it was no exaggeration to call their finest, very finest violinist was to play Vieuxtemps’ Concerto in D. Dove all but smacked his lips as he spoke of it. In reply to a query from Maurice, he declared with vehemence that this Schilsky was a genius. Although so great a violinist, he could play almost every other instrument with case ”

“ Most of those present were in ecstasies at this divulging of his private life, which went forward to the accompaniment of snores from Ford, and the voice of Dove, who, with portentous gravity, sang over and over again, the first strophe of THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.
“A fury!” said Schilsky. “A . . . a what do you call it ?—a . . . Meg . . . a Meg—” He gave it up and went on: “By God, but Lulu knows how! Keep clear of her nails, boys—I’d advise you!” At this point, he pulled back his collar, and exhibited a long, dark scratch on the side of his neck. ”

“ He drained his glass. "I've had the life of a dog, I tell you—of a dog! There's not been a moment in the day when she hasn't spied on me, and followed me, and made me ridiculous. Over every trifle she has got up a fresh scene. She's even gone so far as to come to my room and search my pockets, when she knew I wasn't at home."
"Yes, yes," sneered Krafft. "Exactly! And so, gentlemen he was now for slinking off without a word to her."
"Oh, PFUI!" spat the American.
"Call him a liar!" said a voice.
"Liar?" repeated Schilsky dramatically. "Why liar? ”

“ Of all the men connected with German popular literature, Schiller is most in the hearts of the people of Germany. The spirit of liberty shown in his 'William Tell'—his exile from his native Wirtemberg for the free expressions used in the first play he ever wrote—his high order of genius as a poet and historian—the subjects he chose, and the way he treated them, and, finally, his social and domestic character, have all combined to endear him to the whole people. ”

“ IV. LIFE OF SCHILLER.10 The hundredth anniversary of the birthday of Schiller, which, according to the accounts published in the German newspapers, seems to have been celebrated in most parts of the civilized, nay, even the uncivilized world, is an event in some respects unprecedented in the literary annals of the human race. A nation honors herself by honoring her sons, and it is but natural that in Germany every town and village should have vied in doing honor to the memory of one of their greatest poets. ”

“ Believe me, friend,
It happen'd all precisely as I've said.
FISHER.
How! Tell a prisoner, and to Kussnacht borne?
The best man in the land, the bravest arm,
Had we for liberty to strike a blow!
KUNZ.
The Viceroy takes him up the lake in person:
They were about to go on board, as I
Started from Fluelen; but the gathering storm,
That drove me here to land so suddenly,
May well have hindered them from setting out.
FISHER.
Our Tell in chains, and in the Viceroy's power!
O, trust me, Gessler will entomb him, where
He never more shall see the light of day ”

“ Schiller destroys what I have toiled to create; he builds up what I fancied I had overthrown—this abominable revolution in the minds of men, this heaven-storming conviviality, this wild glowing, and reeling, so very indistinct and cloudy, so replete with tears, sighs, groans, and shouts, and so antagonistic to lucid, sublime thought, and pure enthusiasm. His ‘Robbers’ I abhor—this Franz Moor is the deformed creation of powerful but immature talent. ”

“ Hear then, and mark me well; for thou wilt see, I long have known the grief that weighs thee down. The viceroy hates thee, fain would injure thee, For thou hast crossed his wish to bend the Swiss In homage to this upstart house of princes, And kept them stanch, like their good sires of old, In true allegiance to the empire. Say. Is't not so, Werner? Tell nee, am I wrong? STAUFFACHER. 'Tis even so. For this doth Gessler hate me. GERTRUDE. He burns with envy, too, to see thee living Happy and free on thy inheritance, For he has none. ”

“ Talk, talk, everywhere, and nowhere the strong hand of constructive statesmanship. And so came the abortive revolution of 1848, with its ensuing disgusts, until finally the man of destiny appeared and conducted affairs, by way of Sadowa and Sedan, to the new German Empire.
Now in that era of the doctrinaires, of the philosophical break-up and of seething political passions, it was but natural that those who thought of Schiller at all thought not so much of the dramatic artist as of the prophet whose sentiments could be quoted for present edification or reproof. ”

“ Schiller's had on it a garland of silver leaves presented by the women of Hamburg, and another of leaves of green gauze or crape, on every one of which was worked in gold thread the name of one of his plays. A great actress had made it herself as her tribute to his genius. From all I observe, I should judge that the German people love Schiller much more than they do Goethe. The dukes and duchesses lie farther back in the vault in their red velvet coffins, quite unnoticed. So much better is genius than rank! ”

“ But while the critics and doctrinaires were contending thus variously about the merits of Schiller, his name endeared itself more and more to the many who were chafing under the régime of princely absolutism and were longing for a freer Germany. They idealized him as the poet of liberty,—chiefly, it would seem, on account of 'William Tell', or, among radical and boisterous youth, on account of 'The Robbers'; for the 'freedom' of his poems is a metaphysical rather than a political concept. ”

“ The stormy and errant impulses of his youth had been subdued; he had mastered himself and his circumstances; the great problem of life, which had filled him with strife and impatience, lay clear before him; his circumstances were easy; and his position at the head of German literature, which he had himself brought out of chaos or formalism into orderly vigor, gained him the homage of Europe. Schiller and other friends were dead ”

“ Add courage to this openness, and you have a man who can own himself in the wrong, can forgive, can trust, can adventure, can, in short, use all the means that insight and sympathy endow him with.” A plucky and warm-hearted boy, under the care of an honest, brave, and intelligent father and a tender and religious mother,—this is all we know and care to know about Schiller during the first ten years of his life. In the year 1768 there begins a new period in the life of Schiller. His father was settled at Ludwigsburg, the ordinary residence of the reigning Duke of Wurtemberg, the Duke Charles. ”

“ For all this barbaric ostentation the people of Württemberg were expected to foot the bills. 'Fatherland!' said his Highness, when a protest was raised on behalf of the country, 'Bah! I am the fatherland.'
Here it was, then, that the young Friedrich Schiller got his first childish impressions of the great world; of sovereignty exercised that a few might strut in gay plumage while the many toiled to keep them in funds; of state policies determined by wretched court intrigues; of natural rights trampled upon at the caprice of a prince or a prince's favorite. ”

“ In the land of his birth, by those who undervalue him the most, he is ranked as the second name in German literature; everywhere else he is ranked as the first. For us, who are aliens to Germany, Schiller is the representative of the German intellect in its highest form; and to him, at all events, whether first or second, it is certainly due, that the German intellect has become a known power, and a power of growing magnitude, for the great commonwealth of Christendom. ”