The True Story of My Life

ed it a dramatic trifle, in order that no one might expect either a great work or one of a very elaborate character. It was a little sketch, which, after being performed a f

rsal-and then suddenly it was hissed. Some young men, who gave the word to hiss, had said to some others, who inquired fr

of one of my friends. I had head-ache, and was looking very grave. The lady of the house met me with a sympathizing manner, took my hand,

Have I been hiss

issing had been a triumph for me; everybody had joine

ree," and said positively there were no more. One of my most veracious friends now made his appearance, and I asked him upon

er grows just as with Falstaff; here stands one who

ht again, he replied, "Yes, that is possibl

um of money, which I destined to the purposes of a new journey to Paris, wh

my poems into French, and had actually honored me with a poem which is printed in the above-named R vue. My name had thus r

replied, that he was to blame, because he did not understand the northern languages, in which, as he had discovered in late years, there existed a fresh and vigorous literature, and where the poetical ground was so peculiar that you had only to stoop down to find an old golden horn. He asked about the Trollh tta canal, and avowed a wish to

newest drama. I found him thus one day; he nodded kindly to me, and said, "Sit down a minute; I have just now a visit from my mus

eatres, that I might see the life behind the scenes.

ille's blocks of marble. She was thin and slenderly formed, and looked very young. She looked to me there, and more particularly so afterwards in her own house, as an image of mourning; as a young girl who has just wept out her sorrow, and will now let her thoughts repose in quiet. She accosted us kindly in a deep powerful voice. In the course of conversation with Dumas, she forgot me. I stood there quite superfluous. Dumas observed it, said something handsome of me, and on that I ventured to take part in the discourse, although I h

I know; and in order that we may become acquainted, and as you, as you say, are come to Paris especially on my account, we must see each other frequently. You will be welcome to me. I see my friends at my house every Thursday. But dut

t is as if all the others strove to imitate her. She is herself the French tragic muse, the others are only poor human beings. When Rachel plays people fancy

pally in the carpets, curtains, and bookcases was crimson. She herself was dressed in black, probably as she is represented in the well-known English steel engraving of her. Her guests consisted of gentlemen, for the greater

's "Sappho," and then immediately continued the conversation in French. She expressed her pleasure in acting the part of Sappho, and then spoke of Schiller's "Maria Stuart," which character she has personated in a French version of that pl

lone can the part be given. No one should be raving when the heart is almost broken

he wall, which represented the interior of the theatre in London, where she stood forward on the stage, and flowers and garlands were thrown to her across the o

nd she encouraged me with a kind smile around her grave mouth, when I stumbled in F

eak my native language better; but their conversation has not been nearly as interesting as yours. I u

lbum: "L'art c'est le vrai! J'esp re que cet aphorisme ne sem

which I spent in Paris, he himself, who is possessed of intellectual status and worldly wealth, came almost at midnight to my lodging in the Rue Richelieu, ascended the many

nner that reminded me of Thorwaldsen and Bissen, especially of the latter. We did not meet till towards the conclusio

eserve it or not," he looked earnestly in my face, clapped me on the shoulder,

s Madame Reybaud, the authoress of Les Epaves, the little story which I had made use of for my little drama of The Mulatto. I told her all about it, and of the representation of the piece, which interested her so much, that she became from this evening my especial prot

y in exhibiting myself to him as I was. One day he had been relating to his wife my story of the Constant Tin Soldier, and, whilst he said that I was the author of this story, he introduced me to her. Sh

only heard the pulsation of a German heart, which is

e in Paris was made very cheerful and rich in pleasure. I did not feel myself like a stranger there: I met with a friendly reception among the greatest and best.

ttle biographical sketch prefixed to Only a Fiddler, and felt the heartiest goodwill towards me, with whom they were then not personally acquainted. They wrote to me, expressed their thanks for my works and the pleasure they had derived from them, and offered me a kind welcome to their house if I wou

ake myself, and where I know that it is not only as the poet, but as the man, that I am beloved. In how many instanc

perish as the poor Fiddler had done. A musician who had heard her say this, brought to her soon after, not one, but two poor boys, assuring her of their talent, and reminding her of her promise. She kept her word: both boys were received into her house, were educated by her, and are now in the Conservatorium; the

his poems had delighted me extremely, and I wished to talk with him. I stopped at several towns on the Rhine, and inquired after him. In St. Goar, I was shown the house in which he lived. I found him sittin

said he, in a very cold to

friend, Chamisso!" replied I, and a

ed; threw his arms around my neck,

that I could only stay a couple of hours, because I was tra

your novel of O. T. to a large circle; one of these friends I must, at all events, fetch here, and you

ich acquaintance had ended in their being a married couple. He called her, mentioned to her my name, and I was regarded as an o

ating, and depressing; and if I have done so, in the spirit which operated in my soul, it will not be called pride or vanity;-neither of them would

h, and therefore there certainly cannot have been anything of the kind;-with the exception of one which

r Danish poets also, as for instance, Christian Winter, have an equally great right to complain. Mr. Boas had drawn his information out of the miserable gossip of every-day life; his work excited attention in Copenhagen, and nobody there would allow themselves to be considered as his infor

nconsiderate. That my Improvisatore and Only a Fiddler did not please him, is a matter of taste, and to that I must submit myself. But when he, before the whole of Germany, where probably people will presume that what he has written is true, if he declare it to be, as is the case, the universal judgment against me in my native land;

pressed myself thus on this subject I will gladly offer Mr. Boas my hand; and if, in his next visit to Denmark, no other poet will receive him, I will do my utmost for him; I know that he will not be able to judge me more severely when we know each other, than when we knew each other not. His judgment would also have been quite of another character had he come to Denmark but one year later; things changed very much in a year's time. Then the tide had turned in my favor; I th

ark have been placed by every one, without any hesita

ther of these words are fully correct with regard to Andersen's stories. In my translation of his "Eventyr fortalte for Born," I gave as an equivalent title, "Wonderful Stories for Children," and perhaps this near as I could come.-M. H.] which at that time was not so very much thought of. One monthly critical journal even complained that a young author who had just published a work like the Improvisatore, should immediately come out with anything so childish as the tales. I

ably near affinity to a story of Hoffman's. In my increasing disposition for children's stories, I therefore followed my own impulse, and invented them mostly myself. In the following year a new volume came out, and soon after that a third, in which the longes

ld for Children. I had written my narrative down upon paper, exactly in the language, and with the expressions in which I had myself related them, by word of mouth, to the little ones, and I had arrived at the conviction that people of different ages were equally amused with them. The children made themselves merry for the most part over what might be called the actors, older people, on the contrary, were interested in the deeper meaning. The stories furnished reading for children and grown people, and th

s of writing, and of observing still more attentively the rich wells of nature out of which I must create it. If attention be paid to the order in which my stories are written, it certainly will be seen that

who have had influence on me as the poet; but none of these have had more, nor in a nobler sense of the word, than the lady to whom I here turn myself; she, through whom I

with honor and kindness: I thought, therefore, that it would not be unbecoming in me to pay a visit to the young artist. She was, at this time, entirely unknown out of Sweden, so that I was convinced that, even in Copenhagen, her name was known only by few. She received me very courteously, but ye

enny Lind, informed me of her arrival here and told me that she remembered me very kindly, and that now she had read my writings. He entreated me to go with him to

tings and of Miss Fredrika Bremer, who also was her affectionate friend. The conversation was so

in my native land is so affectionate and kind to me, and if I made my a

ow how she acted, but nevertheless, I was convinced that such was the disposition at this moment in Copenhagen, tha

d for the Copenhageners the great

sang her Swedish songs; there was something so peculiar in this, so bewitching; people thought nothing about the concert room; the popular melodies uttered by a being so purely feminine, and bearing the universal stamp of genius, exercised their omnipotent sway-the whole of Copenhagen was in

I will endeavor, I will be better qualifie

ll those around her; at home, in her own chamber, a sensi

as a singer, we are both of us perfectly agreed; she stands as high as any artist of our time can stand; but as yet you do not know her in her full greatness. Speak to her about her art, and you will wonder at the expansion of her mind, and w

n with Meyerbeer turned upon Jenny Lind; he had heard

es she act?

ome idea of her representation of Alice. He said to me that perhap

a ticket. Jenny Lind appeared still greater than ever in her art, because they had an opportunity of seeing her in many and such extremely different parts. Her Norma is plastic; every attitude might serve as the most beautiful model to a sculptor, and yet people felt that these were the inspiration of the moment, and had not been studied before the glas

r of the Regiment where there is a deal of dialogue, the Swedish had something agreeable-and what acting! nay, the word itself is a contradiction-it was nature; anything as true never before appeared on the stage. She shows us perfectly the true child of nature grown up in the camp, but an inborn nobility pervades every movement. The Daugh

r being so gifted as she;" and his words expressed my full conviction; one feels as she makes her ap

er whole soul, and feels her vocation in it. A noble, pious disposition like hers cannot be spoiled by homage. On one occasion only did I hear her express her joy in her talent and her self-consciousness. It was during her last residence in Copenhagen. Almost every evening she appeared either in the opera or at concerts; every hour was in requisition. She heard of a

"let me give a night's performance for the benefit of

med of this, and, that by this means, a number of poor children would be bene

tiful," said she, "

lf as happy that I know and understand such a spirit. God give to

must forget oneself in the service of the Supreme. No books, no men have had a better or a more ennobling i

to my soul. What blessings have not compensated me for the former dark days! Repose and certainty have forced themselves into my heart. Such repose can easily uni

most friendly manner to spend some time at their house. Count von Rantzau-Breitenburg repeated also in his letters how welcome

in the air, and I was as much cared for as if I had been a beloved relation of the family. Alas it was the last time that I came hither; Count Rantzau had, even then, a presentiment of his approaching death. One day we met in the garden; he seized my hand, pressed it warmly, expressed his pleasure in my talents being acknowledged abroad, and his friendship for me, adding, in conclusion, "Yes, my dear young friend,

d he, and his sorrowful words were true. He died the following winter in

ut I had no letters of introduction to him, and, at that time, not one line of my writings was translated. Many persons had described Goethe to me as a very proud man, and the question arose whether indee

spirituelle lady received me with much kindness. She told me that her son Walter had been my friend for a long time; that as a boy he had made a whole play out of my Improvisato

from which so much light had streamed forth over the world. I approached that land which had been rendered sacre

t glorious and the best of all those whom I here saw around me, would grow into my heart; how many of my future friends sat around me here-how dear this city would become to me-in Germany my second home. I was invited by Goethe's worthy friend, the excellent Chancellor Muller, and I met with the most

ole life. He introduced me into the family circle, the amiable chancellor received me equally cordially; and I who had, on my arrival, fancied

g, which stands high, and close to an extensive forest. The old fashioned furniture within the house, and the distant views from the park into the Hartz mountains, produced immediately a peculiar impression. All the young peasants had assembled at the castle to celebrate the birthd

, certainly one of the noblest and best which beats, is possessed by Karl Alexander of Saxe-Weimar. I had the happiness of a sufficient length of time to establish this belief. During this, my first residence here, I came several times to the happy Et

st, and the soundly honest and child-like minded Eckermann belonged to the circle at Ettersburg. The evenings passed like a spiritual dream; alter

n and the rushing waterfall." Close beside the princely pair, who understood and valued that which was great, repose these their immortal friends. Withered laurel garlands lay upon the simple brown coffins, of which the whole magnificence consists in the im

for the last time looked back to the city and the castle, a deep melancholy took hold on my soul, and it was to me as if a beautiful portion of my life here had its close; I thought that the journey, after I had le

hose singing, so full of soul, has pleased and enchanted so many thousands, accompanied Clara Schumann, and the composer and the poet were alone the audience: a little festive supper and a mutual interchange of ideas shortened the evening only too much.

von Vogelstein, who did me the honor of painting my portrait, which was included in the royal collection of portraits. The theatre intendant, Herr von L ttichau, provided me every evening with a seat in the manager's box; and one of

l is the world! How goo

ive becomes ever more

her Edmund, who is an o

, where he had spent

ious places, spent som

hills, and was receive

us fa

ough a course of years to a valuable album, which she, if he die before her, is to publish. Among the many glorious ideas there, one struck me as peculiar; the Flight into Egypt. It is night; every one sleeps in the picture,-Mary, Joseph, the flowers and the shrubs, nay even the ass which carries her-all, except the child Jesus, who, with open round countenance, watches

d there became acquainted with Kohl the traveller, and the clever authoress, the Countess Hahn-Hahn, in whom I discerned a woman by disposition and individual character in whom confidence may be placed. Where one is well received there one gladly lingers. I found myself unspeakably happy on this little journey in Germany, and became co

ad not been for several years; but the dear

an which flew fa

ead upon a wil

am grown older; I feel it not in myself. Chamisso's sons, whom I saw the last time playing here in the little garden with bare necks, came now to meet me with h

t so hard as

oul's beloved

ear ones, and i

e which leads t

was almost rendered dumb by all this eloquence, this firework of wit. The world knows her writings, but another talent which she is possessed of, is less generally known, namely her talent for drawing. Here again it is the ideas which astonish us. It was thus, I observed, she had treated in a sketch an accident which had occurred just before, a young

re found, and old acquaintance which were renewed, ought I not to mention! I met Cornelius from Rome, Schelling from Munich, my countryman I might almost call him; Steffens, the Norwegian, and once again Tieck, whom I had not seen since my first visit to Germany. He w

romance of Only a Fiddler, and inquired from Tieck about me. Meantime their Majesties were absent from Berl

reitenburg, who was with the King and Queen of Denmark at the watering-place of F÷hr. He wrote, saying that he had the pleasure of announcing to me the most gracious invitation of their Majesties to F÷hr. This island, as is well known, lies in the North Sea, not f

and I rejoiced to be once more in close intima

ithfully attached, and whom I at that very time learned to love with my whole soul. Everything that surrounded me, man and nature, reflected themselves imperishably in my soul. I felt myself, as it were, conducted to a

ong the shrubby heath. Presently we reached moorlands. Long-continued rain had changed meadows and cornfields into great lakes; the embankments along which we drove were like morasses; the horses sank deeply into them. In many places the light carriage was obliged to be supported by the peasants, that it might not fall upon the cottages below the embankment. Severa

g waved, and music was heard. I was soon established in my quarters, and every day, until the departure of their Majesties, had I the honor of an invitation from them to dinner, as well as to pass the evening in their circle. On several evenings I read aloud my little stories (M rchen) to the king and queen, and both of them were gracious and af

urf, on which a few flocks graze. When the sea rises these are driven into the garrets of the houses, and the waves roll over this little region, which is miles distant from the shore. Oland, which we visited, contains a little town. The houses stand closely side by side, as if, in their sore need they would all huddle together. They are all erected upon a platform, and have little windows, as in the cabin of

nor the mainland could help be sent to them. The church-yard is half washed away; coffins and corpses were frequently exposed to view by the breakers: it is an ap

t it was so small and low, that one was obliged to go round it; nevertheless they showed by it their good will. The queen was deeply affected by their having cut down their only shrub, a rose bush, to lay over a marshy place which she would have to cross. The g

to a dancing room. Young and old danced; servants flew hither and thither with refreshments; sailors stood upon the paddle-boxes and took the soundings, and their deep-to

d the passage accurately known, or else, when the tide comes, he who crosses will be inevitably lost. It requires only a few minutes, and then where dry land was large ships may sail. We saw a whole row of wagons driving from F÷hr to Amrom. Seen upon the white sand and against the blue horizon, they seem to be twice as large as they really were. All around were spread out, like a net, the sheets of

a had retired above a mile; the vessels lay like dead fishes upon the sand, and awaiting the returning tide. A few sailors had clambered down and moved about on the sandy ground like black points. Where the sea itself kept the white level sand in movement, a long bank elevated itself, which, during the time of high-water, is concealed, and upon wh

tle ball in the bath-saloon, as well as to the promenade by moonlight, thronged with gues

e moments of thankfulness in which, as it were, we feel a desire to press God to our hearts. How deeply I felt, at this time, my own nothingness; how all, all, had come from him. Rantzau knew what an interesting day this was to me. After dinner the king and the qu

quired if I had not some certain ye

t much," sa

," replied I, "and my writ

, inquired farther into my circ

serviceable to your litera

was renewed, and some of those who stood near me re

y, "put the very wor

he king," I said, "found that I required somethi

in, I can live honorably and free from care. My king gave it to me out of the pure good-will of his own heart. King Christian is enlightened, cle

; even the German visitors at the baths honor

r; they purify his mind, and he must thereby feel an impulse, a wish, to deserve all that he enjoys. At my parting-audience with the queen, she gave me a valuable

riant corn and clover-fields are enclosed, with hedges of hazels and wild roses; the peasants' houses are surrounded by large apple-orchards, full of fruit. Wood and hill alternate. Now we see the ocean, and now the narrow Lesser Belt, which resembles a river. The Castle of Augustenburg is magnificent, with its garden full of flowers, extending

filled with peace; and everything around derives a peculiar glory. The