A fairy-tale for children in three acts, with interludes, a prologue and an epilogue.
TRANSLATED BY LILLIE WINTER, B.A.
THE KING
THE PRINCESS, his daughter
PRINCE NATHANIEL of Malsinki
LEANDER, Court scholar
HANSWURST, Court fool
A Groom of the Chamber
The Cook
LORENZ }
BARTHEL } Peasant brothers
GOTTLIEB }
Hinze, a tom-cat
A Tavern-keeper
KUNZ }
MICHEL } Peasants
A Bugbear
A Peace-maker
The Playwright
A Soldier
Two Hussars
Two Lovers
Servants
Musicians
A Peasant
The Prompter
A Shoemaker
A Historian
FISCHER
MÜLLER
BÖTTICHER
LEUTNER
WIESENER
WIESENER'S NEIGHBOR
Elephants
Lions
Bears
An officer
Eagles and other birds
A rabbit
Partridges
Jupiter
Terkaleon
The Machinist
Spirits
Monkeys
The Public.
The scene is laid in the pit, the candles are already lighted, the musicians are gathered in the orchestra. The theatre is filled, people talking in confusion, some arriving, etc.
FISCHER, MÜLLER, SCHLOSSER, BÖTTICHER, in the pit
Say, but I am curious, Herr Müller, what do you think of today's play?
I should be more likely to expect the sky to fall in than to see such a play at our theatre.
Do you know the play?
Not at all. A strange title that: Puss in Boots. I do hope they're not going to present that child's play at the theatre.
Why, is it an opera?
Anything but that; the bill says: A Fairy-tale for Children.
A fairy-tale? But in Heaven's name, we're not children, are we, that they want to present such pieces for us? They certainly won't put an actual cat on the stage, will they?
It may turn out to be an imitation of the new Arcadians, a sort of
Terkaleon.
Now that wouldn't be bad, for I've been wishing this long while to see some time such a wonderful opera without music.
Without music it is absurd, for, my dear friend, we're beyond such childish nonsense, such superstition; enlightenment has borne its natural fruits.
It may turn out to be a regular picture of domestic life, and the cat is only a joke, something like a jest, so to speak, a motive, if I may call it that.
To tell you my honest opinion, I take the whole thing to be a trick to spread sentiment among the people, give them suggestions. You'll see if I'm not right. A revolutionary play, as far as I can understand.
I agree with you, too, for otherwise the style would be horribly offensive. For my part I must admit I never could believe in witches or spirits, not to mention Puss in Boots.
The age of these phantoms is past. Why, there comes Leutner; perhaps he can tell us more.
[Leutner pushes himself through the crowd.]
Good evening, good evening! Well, how are you?
Do tell us, will you, what sort of play we're having tonight?
[The music begins.]
So late already? Why, I've come in the nick of time. About the play? I have just been speaking with the author; he is at the theatre and helping dress the tom-cat.
Is helping?—The author?—The cat? So a cat will appear, after all?
Yes, indeed, why his name is even on the bill.
I say, who's playing that part?
The strange actor, of course, the great man.
Indeed? But how can they possibly play such nonsense?
For a change, the author thinks.
A fine change, why not Bluebeard too, and Prince Kobold? Indeed! Some excellent subjects for the drama!
But how are they going to dress the cat?—And I wonder whether he wears real boots?
I am just as impatient as all of you.
But shall we really have such stuff played to us? We've come here out of curiosity, to be sure, but still we have taste.
I feel like making a noise.
It's rather cold, too. I'll make a start. (He stamps with his feet, the others fall in.)
What does this pounding mean?
That's to rescue good taste.
Well, then I won't be the last, either. (He stamps.)
Be quiet, or you can't hear the music. (All are stamping.)
But, I say, we really ought to let them go through the play, for, after all, we've given our money anyhow; afterward we'll pound so they'll hear us out doors.
No, they'll now—taste—rules—art—otherwise everything will go to ruin.
Gentlemen, shall the police be sent in?
We have paid, we represent the public, and therefore we will have our own good taste and no farces.
The play will begin immediately.
No play—we want no play—we want good taste—
Good taste! good taste!
I am puzzled—what do you mean, if I may ask?
Good taste! Are you an author and don't even know what good taste means?
Consider a young beginner—
We want to know nothing about beginners—we want to see a decent play-a play in good taste!
What sort? What kind?
Domestic stories—elopements—brothers and sisters from the country—something like that.
[The Author comes out from behind the curtain.]
Gentlemen—
Is that the author?
He doesn't look much like an author.
Impertinent fellow!
His hair isn't even trimmed.
Gentlemen-pardon my boldness.
How can you write such plays? Why haven't you trained yourself?
Grant me just one minute's audience before you condemn me. I know that the honorable public must pass judgment on the author, and that from them there is no appeal, but I know the justice of an honorable public, and I am assured they will not frighten me away from a course in which I so need their indulgent guidance.
He doesn't talk badly.
He's more courteous than I thought.
He has respect for the public, after all.
I am ashamed to present to such illustrious judges the modest inspiration of my Muse; it is only the skill of our actors which still consoles me to some extent, otherwise I should be sunk in despair without further ado.
I am sorry for him.
A good fellow!
When I heard your worthy stamping—nothing has ever frightened me so, I am still pale and trembling and do not myself comprehend how I have attained to the courage of thus appearing before you.
Well, clap, then! (All clap.)
I wanted to make an attempt to furnish amusement by means of humor, by cheerfulness and real jokes, and hope I have been successful, since our newest plays so seldom afford us an opportunity to laugh.
That's certainly true!
He's right—that man.
Bravo! Bravo!
Bravo! Bravo! (They clap.)
I leave you, honored sirs, to decide now whether my attempt is to be rejected entirely—trembling, I withdraw, and the play will begin. (He bows very respectfully and goes behind the curtain.)
Bravo! Bravo!
Da capo!—
[All are laughing. The music begins again; meanwhile the curtain rises.]
Small room in a peasant's cottage
LORENZ, BARTHEL, GOTTLIEB. The tom-cat HINZE, is lying on a bench by the stove.
I think that after the death of our father, our little fortune can be divided easily. You know the deceased has left only three pieces of property—a horse, an ox, and that cat there. I, as the eldest, will take the horse; Barthel, second after me, gets the ox, and so the cat is naturally left for our youngest brother.
LEUTNER (in the pit).
For Heaven's sake! Did any one ever see such an exposition! Just see how far dramatic art has degenerated!
But I understand everything perfectly well.
That's just the trouble, you should give the spectator a cunning suggestion, not throw the matter right into his teeth.
But now you know, don't you, where you are?
Yes, but you certainly mustn't know that so quickly; why, the very best part of the fun consists in getting at it little by little.
I think, brother Gottlieb, you will also be satisfied with this division; unfortunately you are the youngest, and so you must grant us some privileges.
Yes, to be sure.
But why doesn't the court of awards interfere in the inheritance? What improbabilities!
So then we're going now, dear Gottlieb; farewell, don't let time hang heavy on your hands.
Good-bye.
[Exit the brothers.]
GOTTLIEB (alone).
They are going away—and I am alone. We all three have our lodgings. Lorenz, of course, can till the ground with his horse, Barthel can slaughter and pickle his ox and live on it a while—but what am I, poor unfortunate, to do with my cat? At the most, I can have a muff for the winter made out of his fur, but I think he is even shedding it now. There he lies asleep quite comfortably—poor Hinze! Soon we shall have to part. I am sorry I brought him up, I know him as I know myself—but he will have to believe me, I cannot help myself, I must really sell him. He looks at me as though he understood. I could almost begin to cry.
[He walks up and down, lost in thought.]
Well, you see now, don't, you, that it's going to be a touching picture of family life? The peasant is poor and without money; now, in the direst need, he will sell his faithful pet to some susceptible young lady, and in the end that will be the foundation of his good fortune. Probably it is an imitation of Kotzebue's Parrot; here the bird is replaced by a cat and the play runs on of itself.
Now that it's working out this way, I am satisfied too.
HINZE, the tom-cat (rises, stretches, arches his back, yawns, then speaks).
My dear Gottlieb—I really sympathize with you.
GOTTLIEB (astonished).
What, puss, you are speaking?
THE CRITICS (in the pit).
The cat is talking? What does that mean, pray?
It's impossible for me to get the proper illusion here.
Rather than let myself be disappointed like this I never want to see another play all my life.
Why should I not be able to speak, Gottlieb?
I should not have suspected it; I never heard a cat speak in all my life.
Because we do not join in every conversation, you think we're nothing but dogs.
I think your only business is to catch mice.
If we had not, in our intercourse with human beings, got a certain contempt for speech, we could all speak.
Well, I'll own that! But why don't you give any one an opportunity to discover you?
That's to avoid responsibility, for if once the power of speech were inflicted on us so-called animals, there wouldn't be any joy left in the world. What isn't the dog compelled to do and learn! The horse! They are foolish animals to show their intelligence, they must give way entirely to their vanity; we cats still continue to be the freest race because, with all our skill, we can act so clumsily that human beings quite give up the idea of training us.
But why do you disclose all this to me?
Because you are a good, a noble man, one of the few who take no delight in servility and slavery; see, that is why I disclose myself to you completely and fully.
GOTTLIEB (gives him his hand).
Good friend!
Human beings labor under the delusion that the only remarkable thing about us is that instinctive purring which arises from a certain feeling of comfort; for that reason they often stroke us awkwardly and then we usually purr to secure ourselves against blows. But if they knew how to manage us in the right way, believe me, they would accustom our good nature to everything, and Michel, your neighbor's tom-cat, would even at times be pleased to jump through a hoop for the king.
You're right in that.
I love you, Master Gottlieb, very much. You have never stroked me the wrong way, you have let me sleep when I felt like it, you have objected whenever your brothers wanted to take me up, to go with me into the dark, and see the so-called electrical sparks—for all this I now want to show my gratitude.
Noble-hearted Hinze! Ah, how unjustly do they speak ill of you and scornfully, doubting your loyalty and devotion! My eyes are being opened—how my knowledge of human nature is increasing and so unexpectedly!
Friends, where has our hope for a picture of family life gone to?
Why it is almost too nonsensical.
I feel as though I were in a dream.
You are a good man, Master Gottlieb; but, do not take it ill of me, you are somewhat narrow, confined—to speak out freely, not one of the best heads.
Alas, no!
You don't know now, for example, what you want to do.
You read my thoughts perfectly.
If you had a muff made out of my fur—
Do not take it amiss, comrade, that this idea just passed through my mind.
Why, no, it was an altogether human thought. Can you think of no way of managing?
Not a thing!
You might carry me around and show me for money; but that is never a sure means of support.
No.
You might publish a journal or a German paper, with the motto, Homo sum—or a novel; I should be willing to collaborate with you—but that is too much bother.
Yes.
Well, I'll see that I take even better care of you. Depend upon it, you are yet to become very happy through me.
O, best, most noble man. (He embraces him tenderly.)
But you must also trust me.
Entirely. Why, now I realize your honorable spirit.
Well, then, do me a favor and bring the shoemaker immediately to take my measure for a pair of boots.
The shoemaker? Boots?
You are surprised, but in accomplishing what I intend to do for you, I have to walk and run so much that I have to wear boots.
But why not shoes?
Master Gottlieb, you do not understand the matter; they must lend me some dignity, an imposing air, in short, a certain manliness to which one never attains in shoes.
Well, as you think best; but the shoemaker will be surprised.
Not at all; we must act only as if it were nothing remarkable that I should wish to wear boots; one gets used to everything.
Yes, indeed; why, my conversation with you has actually become quite easy! But another thing; now that we have become such good friends, do call me by my first name, too; why do you still want to stand on ceremony with me?
As you like, Gottlieb.
There's the shoemaker passing. Hey! Pst! Friend Leichdorn! Will you please stop a moment?
[The shoemaker comes in.]
God bless you! What's the news?
I have ordered no work from you for a long time.
No, my friend, all in all, I have very little to do now.
I should like to have another pair of boots made—
Please take a seat. I have a measure with me.
Not for myself, but for my young friend there.
For this one here? Very well.
HINZE (sits on a chair and holds out his right leg).
Now how should you like it, pussy?
In the first place, good soles, then brown flaps, and, above all things, stiff.
Very well. (He takes the measure.) Will you be so kind as to draw your claws in a bit—or rather nails? I have already scratched myself. (He takes the measure.)
And they must be finished quickly. (As his leg is being stroked he begins to purr involuntarily.)
The pussy is comfortable.
Yes, he's a good-humored fellow. He has just come from school, what they usually call a "smarty."
Well, good-bye.
[Exit.]
Wouldn't you perhaps like to have your whiskers trimmed too?
On no account, I look so much more respectable, and you certainly must know that cats immediately become unmanly after that. A tom-cat without whiskers is but a contemptible creature.
If I only knew what you are planning!
You'll find out in due time. Now I want to take a little walk on the roofs; there's a fine, open view there and you're likely to catch a dove too.
As a good friend, I want to warn you not to let yourself be caught at it.
Don't worry, I'm not a novice. Meanwhile, good-bye.
[Exit.]
GOTTLIEB (alone).
Natural history always says that cats cannot be trusted and that they belong to the lion family, and I am in such fearful dread of a lion. Now if the cat had no conscience, he could run away from me afterward with the boots for which I must now give my last penny and then sell them somewhere for nothing, or it's possible that he wants to make a bid for favor with the shoemaker and then go into his service. But he has a tom-cat already. No, Hinze, my brothers have betrayed me, and now I will try my luck with you. He spoke so nobly, he was so touched—there he sits on the roof yonder, stroking his whiskers—forgive me, my fine friend, that I could even for a moment doubt your magnanimity.
[Exit.]
What nonsense!
What does the cat need those boots for?—to be able to walk better?
Silly stuff!
But it seems as though I saw a cat before me.
Be still, the scene is changing.
Hall in the royal palace
The KING with crown and sceptre. The PRINCESS, his daughter
A thousand handsome princes, my precious daughter, have already sued for your hand and laid their kingdoms at your feet, but you have continued to refuse them. Tell us the reason for this, my treasure.
My most gracious father, I have always believed that my heart must first feel certain emotions before my neck would bow under the yoke of marriage. For a marriage without love, they say, is truly hell upon earth.
That is right, my dear daughter. Ah, indeed, indeed, have you spoken words of truth: a hell on earth! Alas, if only I were not qualified to discuss it! Indeed I should have preferred to remain ignorant! But as it is, dear treasure, I have my tale to tell, as they say. Your mother, my consort of blessed memory—ah, Princess, see, the tears rush to my eyes even in my old age—she was a good queen, she wore the crown with an indescribable air of majesty—but she gave me very little peace. Well, may her ashes rest in peace among her royal relatives.
Your majesty excites yourself too much.
When the memory of it returns to me, O my child, on my knees I would entreat you—do be careful in marrying! It is a great truth that linen and a bridegroom must not be bought by candle-light, a truth which should be found in every book. What did I suffer! No day passed without a quarrel; I could not sleep peacefully, could not conduct my administrative business quietly, I could not think of anything, could not read a book—I was always interrupted. And still my spirit sometimes yearns for you, my blessed Klothilde! My eyes smart—I am a real old fool.
PRINCESS (tenderly).
My father!
I tremble to think of the dangers that face you, for, even if you do fall in love now, my daughter, ah! you should just see what thick books wise men have filled on this subject—see, your very passion, then, can also make you miserable. The happiest, the most blissful emotion can ruin us; moreover, love is, as it were, a magic cup; instead of nectar we often drink poison; then our pillow is wet with tears; all hope, all consolation are gone. (The sound of a trumpet is heard.) Why, it isn't dinner-time yet, is it? Probably another new prince who wants to fall in love with you. Take care, my daughter; you are my only child, and you do not realize how near my heart your happiness lies. (He kisses her and leaves the hall. Applause is heard in the pit.)
That's a scene for you, in which you can find sound common sense.
I am also moved.
He's an excellent sovereign.
Now he didn't exactly have to appear with a crown.
It entirely spoils the sympathy one feels for him as an affectionate father.
THE PRINCESS (alone).
I do not understand at all; why, not one of the princes has yet touched my heart with love. I always keep in mind my father's warnings; he is a great sovereign and nevertheless a good father too, and is always thinking of my happiness; if only he did not have such a hasty temper! But fortune and misfortune are always coupled thus. My joy I find in the arts and sciences, for books constitute all my happiness.
The PRINCESS, LEANDER, the court scholar.
Well, your Royal Highness! (They sit down.)
Here. Master Leander, is my essay. I have entitled it Thoughts at
Night.
LEANDER (reads).
Excellent! Inspired! Ah! I feel as though I hear the hour of midnight striking. When did you write it?
Yesterday noon, after dinner.
Beautifully conceived! Truly, beautifully conceived! But with your most gracious permission! The moon shines sadly down in the world. If you will not take it amiss, it should read: into the world.
Very well, I will note that for the future; it's too stupid that poetry should be made so hard for us; one can't write five or six lines without making a mistake.
That's the obstinacy of language, so to speak.
Are not the emotions tenderly and delicately phrased!
Indescribably! It is scarcely comprehensible how a feminine mind could write such a thing.
Now I might try my hand at moonlight descriptions. Don't you think so?
Naturally you keep going farther all the time; you keep rising higher.
I have also begun a piece: The Unhappy Misanthrope; or, Lost Peace and Restored Innocence!
Even the title itself is fascinating.
And then I feel an incomprehensible desire within me to write some horrible ghost story. As I said before, if it were not for those grammatical errors!
Do not worry about that, incomparable princess! They are easily corrected.
[Groom from the Chamber enters.]
The Prince of Malsinki, who has just arrived, wishes to wait on your royal highness.
[Exit.]
Your obedient servant.
[Exit.]
Prince NATHANIEL of Malsinki. The KING
Here, Prince, is my daughter, a young, simple creature, as you see her before you. (Aside.) Be polite, my daughter, courteous; he is an illustrious prince from afar; his country is not even on my map, I have already looked it up; I have an amazing amount of respect for him.
I am glad to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance.
Beautiful Princess, the report of your beauty has been spread so widely over the whole world that I have come here from a far distant corner for the happiness of seeing you face to face.
Indeed it is astonishing, how many countries and kingdoms there are! You would not believe how many thousand crown-princes have been here already, to pay their addresses to my daughter; sometimes they arrive by dozens, especially when the weather is fine—and now you have come all the way from—I beg your pardon, topography is such a very extensive subject—in what region does your country lie?
Mighty king, if you travel from here first down the great highway, then you turn to the right and go on; but when you reach a mountain, turn to the left again, then you go to the ocean and sail directly north (if the wind is favorable, of course), and so, if the journey is successful, you reach my dominions in a year and a half.
The deuce! I must have my court scholar explain that to me. You are probably a neighbor of the North Pole or Zodiac, or something like that, I suppose!
Not that I know of.
Perhaps somewhere near the savages?
I beg your pardon, all my subjects are very tame.
But you must live confoundedly far away. I can't get a clear idea of it yet.
The geography of my country is still not exactly fixed; I expect to discover more every day; and then it may easily come about that we shall even become neighbors in the end.
That will be splendid! And if, after all, a few countries still stand in our way, I will help you in your discoveries. My neighbor is not a good friend of mine, so to speak, and he has a fine country; all the raisins come from there; why, I should be only too glad to have it! But another thing; do tell me, how, living so far away, can you speak our language so fluently!
Hush!
What?
Hush! hush!
I do not understand.
NATHANIEL, (softly to him).
Do be quiet about it, pray, for otherwise the audience down there will surely notice that it is really very unnatural.
It doesn't matter. They clapped before and so I can afford to take a chance.
You see, it is only for the sake of the drama that I speak your language; for otherwise, of course, the matter is incomprehensible.
Ah, so! Well, come, Prince, the table is set!
[The PRINCE escorts the princess out, the KING precedes.]
Cursed improbabilities there are in this play!
And the king doesn't remain at all true to his character.
Why, nothing but the natural should ever be presented on the stage! The prince should speak an altogether unknown language and have an interpreter with him; the princess should make grammatical errors, since she herself admits that she writes incorrectly.
Of course! Of course! The whole thing is unquestionable nonsense; the author himself is always forgetting what he has said the moment before.
The scene is laid in front of a tavern.
LORENZ, KUNZ, MICHEL are sitting on a bench. The HOST
I shall have to be going again soon! I still have a long way home.
You are a subject of the king, aren't you?
Yes, indeed; what do you call your good ruler?
He is just called Bugbear.
That is a foolish title. Why, has he no other name?
When he has edicts issued, they always read: For the good of the public, the Law demands—hence I believe that is his real name. All petitions, too, are always laid before the Law. He is a fearful man.
Still, I should rather be under a king; why, a king is more dignified. They say the Bugbear is a very ungracious master.
He is not especially gracious, that is true of course, but, on the other hand, he is justice itself. Cases are even sent to him from abroad and he must settle them.
They say wonderful things about him; the story goes he can transform himself into any animal.
It is true, and then he travels around incognito and spies out the sentiments of his subjects; that's the very reason why we trust no cat, no strange dog or horse, because we always think the ruler might probably be inside of them.
Then surely we are in a better position, too. Our king never goes out without wearing his crown, his cloak, and his sceptre; by these, he is known three hundred paces away. Well, take care of yourselves.
[Exit.]
Now he is already in his own country.
Is the border line so near?
Surely, that very tree belongs to the king; you can see from this very spot everything that goes on in his country; this border line here is a lucky thing for me. I should have been bankrupt long ago if the deserters from over there had not supported me; almost every day several come.
Is the service there so hard?
Not that; but running away is so easy, and just because it is so strictly forbidden the fellows get such an exceptional desire to desert. Look, I bet that's another one coming!
[A soldier comes running.]
A can of beer, host! Quick!
Who are you?
A deserter.
Perhaps 'twas his love for his parents which made him desert.
Poor fellow, do take pity on him, host.
Why if he has money, there won't be any lack of beer. (Goes into the house.)
[Two hussars come riding and dismount.]
Well, thank God, we've got so far! Your health, neighbor!
This is the border.
Yes, Heaven be thanked! Didn't we have to ride for the sake of that fellow? Beer, host!
HOST (with several glasses).
Here, gentlemen, a fine, cool drink; you are all pretty warm.
Here, you rascal! To your health!
Best thanks, I will meantime hold your horses for you.
The fellow can run! It's good that the border is never so very far away; for otherwise it would be deucedly hard service.
Well, we must go back, I suppose. Good-bye, deserter! Much luck on your way!
[They mount and ride away.]
Will you stay here?
No, I am going away; why I must enlist with the neighboring duke.
Say, come and see me when you desert again.
Certainly. Farewell!
[They shake hands. Exeunt soldier and guests, exit host into the house. The curtain falls.]
Why, it's getting wilder and wilder! What was the purpose of the last scene, I wonder?
Nothing at all, it is entirely superfluous; only to introduce some new nonsense. The theme of the cat is now lost entirely and there is no fixed point of view at all.
I feel exactly as though I were intoxicated.
I say, in what period is the play supposed to be taking place?
The hussars, of course, are a recent invention.
We simply shouldn't bear it, but stamp hard. Now we haven't the faintest idea of what the play is coming to.
And no love, either! Nothing in it for the heart, for the imagination.
As soon as any more of that nonsense occurs, for my part at least, I'll begin to stamp.
WIESENER (to his neighbor).
I like the play now.
Very fine, indeed, very fine; a great man, the author; he has imitated the Magic Flute well.
I liked the hussars particularly well; people seldom take the risk of bringing horses on the stage—and why not? They often have more sense than human beings. I would rather see a good horse than many a human being in the more modern plays.
The Moors in Kotzebue—a horse is after all nothing but another kind of Moor.
Do you not know to what regiment the hussars belonged
I did not even look at them carefully. Too bad they went away so soon—indeed I'd rather like to see a whole play with nothing but hussars. I like the cavalry so much.
LEUTNER (to BÖTTICHER).
What do you think of all this?
Why, I simply can't get the excellent acting of the man who plays the cat out of my head. What a study! What art! What observation! What costuming!
That is true; he really does look like a large tom-cat.
And just notice his whole mask, as I would rather call his costume, for since he has so completely disguised his natural appearance, this expression is far more fitting. But I say, God bless the ancients when blessing is due. You probably do not know that the ancients acted all parts, without exception, in masks, as you will find in Athenaeus, Pollux and others. It is hard, you see, to know all these things so accurately, because one must now and then look up those books oneself to find them. At the same time, however, one then has the advantage of being able to quote them. There is a difficult passage in Pausanias.