CHAPTER XVII
[Why Germans Wear Spectacles]
A mile or two above Eberbach we saw a peculiar ruin projecting above thefoliage which clothed the peak of a high and very steep hill. This ruinconsisted of merely a couple of crumbling masses of masonry which borea rude resemblance to human faces; they leaned forward and touchedforeheads, and had the look of being absorbed in conversation. Thisruin had nothing very imposing or picturesque about it, and there was nogreat deal of it, yet it was called the "Spectacular Ruin."
LEGEND OF THE "SPECTACULAR RUIN"
The captain of the raft, who was as full of history as he could stick,said that in the Middle Ages a most prodigious fire-breathing dragonused to live in that region, and made more trouble than a tax-collector.He was as long as a railway-train, and had the customary impenetrablegreen scales all over him. His breath bred pestilence and conflagration,and his appetite bred famine. He ate men and cattle impartially, andwas exceedingly unpopular. The German emperor of that day made the usualoffer: he would grant to the destroyer of the dragon, any one solitarything he might ask for; for he had a surplusage of daughters, and it wascustomary for dragon-killers to take a daughter for pay.
So the most renowned knights came from the four corners of the earth andretired down the dragon's throat one after the other. A panic arose andspread. Heroes grew cautious. The procession ceased. The dragon becamemore destructive than ever. The people lost all hope of succor, and fledto the mountains for refuge.
At last Sir Wissenschaft, a poor and obscure knight, out of a farcountry, arrived to do battle with the monster. A pitiable object hewas, with his armor hanging in rags about him, and his strange-shapedknapsack strapped upon his back. Everybody turned up their noses at him,and some openly jeered him. But he was calm. He simply inquired ifthe emperor's offer was still in force. The emperor said it was--butcharitably advised him to go and hunt hares and not endanger so preciousa life as his in an attempt which had brought death to so many of theworld's most illustrious heroes.
But this tramp only asked--"Were any of these heroes men of science?"This raised a laugh, of course, for science was despised in those days.But the tramp was not in the least ruffled. He said he might be a littlein advance of his age, but no matter--science would come to be honored,some time or other. He said he would march against the dragon in themorning. Out of compassion, then, a decent spear was offered him, buthe declined, and said, "spears were useless to men of science." Theyallowed him to sup in the servants' hall, and gave him a bed in thestables.
When he started forth in the morning, thousands were gathered to see.The emperor said:
"Do not be rash, take a spear, and leave off your knapsack."
But the tramp said:
"It is not a knapsack," and moved straight on.
The dragon was waiting and ready. He was breathing forth vast volumesof sulphurous smoke and lurid blasts of flame. The ragged knightstole warily to a good position, then he unslung his cylindricalknapsack--which was simply the common fire-extinguisher known to moderntimes--and the first chance he got he turned on his hose and shot thedragon square in the center of his cavernous mouth. Out went the firesin an instant, and the dragon curled up and died.
This man had brought brains to his aid. He had reared dragons from theegg, in his laboratory, he had watched over them like a mother, andpatiently studied them and experimented upon them while they grew. Thushe had found out that fire was the life principle of a dragon; put outthe dragon's fires and it could make steam no longer, and must die.He could not put out a fire with a spear, therefore he invented theextinguisher. The dragon being dead, the emperor fell on the hero's neckand said:
"Deliverer, name your request," at the same time beckoning out behindwith his heel for a detachment of his daughters to form and advance. Butthe tramp gave them no observance. He simply said:
"My request is, that upon me be conferred the monopoly of themanufacture and sale of spectacles in Germany."
The emperor sprang aside and exclaimed:
"This transcends all the impudence I ever heard! A modest demand, by myhalidome! Why didn't you ask for the imperial revenues at once, and bedone with it?"
But the monarch had given his word, and he kept it. To everybody'ssurprise, the unselfish monopolist immediately reduced the price ofspectacles to such a degree that a great and crushing burden was removedfrom the nation. The emperor, to commemorate this generous act, and totestify his appreciation of it, issued a decree commanding everybody tobuy this benefactor's spectacles and wear them, whether they needed themor not.
So originated the wide-spread custom of wearing spectacles in Germany;and as a custom once established in these old lands is imperishable,this one remains universal in the empire to this day. Such is the legendof the monopolist's once stately and sumptuous castle, now called the"Spectacular Ruin."
On the right bank, two or three miles below the Spectacular Ruin, wepassed by a noble pile of castellated buildings overlooking the waterfrom the crest of a lofty elevation. A stretch of two hundred yards ofthe high front wall was heavily draped with ivy, and out of the massof buildings within rose three picturesque old towers. The place was infine order, and was inhabited by a family of princely rank. This castlehad its legend, too, but I should not feel justified in repeating itbecause I doubted the truth of some of its minor details.
Along in this region a multitude of Italian laborers were blasting awaythe frontage of the hills to make room for the new railway. They werefifty or a hundred feet above the river. As we turned a sharp cornerthey began to wave signals and shout warnings to us to look out for theexplosions. It was all very well to warn us, but what could _we_ do?You can't back a raft upstream, you can't hurry it downstream, you can'tscatter out to one side when you haven't any room to speak of, you won'ttake to the perpendicular cliffs on the other shore when they appear tobe blasting there, too. Your resources are limited, you see. There issimply nothing for it but to watch and pray.
For some hours we had been making three and a half or four miles an hourand we were still making that. We had been dancing right along untilthose men began to shout; then for the next ten minutes it seemed to methat I had never seen a raft go so slowly. When the first blast wentoff we raised our sun-umbrellas and waited for the result. No harmdone; none of the stones fell in the water. Another blast followed, andanother and another. Some of the rubbish fell in the water just asternof us.
We ran that whole battery of nine blasts in a row, and it was certainlyone of the most exciting and uncomfortable weeks I ever spent, eitheraship or ashore. Of course we frequently manned the poles and shovedearnestly for a second or so, but every time one of those spurts of dustand debris shot aloft every man dropped his pole and looked up to getthe bearings of his share of it. It was very busy times along there fora while. It appeared certain that we must perish, but even that wasnot the bitterest thought; no, the abjectly unheroic nature of thedeath--that was the sting--that and the bizarre wording of the resultingobituary: "_Shot with a rock, on a raft_." There would be no poetrywritten about it. None _could_ be written about it. Example:
_Not_ by war's shock, or war's shaft,--_shot_, with a rock, on a raft.
No poet who valued his reputation would touch such a theme as that. Ishould be distinguished as the only "distinguished dead" who went downto the grave unsonneted, in 1878.
But we escaped, and I have never regretted it. The last blast was apeculiarly strong one, and after the small rubbish was done rainingaround us and we were just going to shake hands over our deliverance, alater and larger stone came down amongst our little group of pedestriansand wrecked an umbrella. It did no other harm, but we took to the waterjust the same.
It seems that the heavy work in the quarries and the new railwaygradings is done mainly by Italians. That was a revelation. We havethe notion in our country that Italians never do heavy work at all, butconfine themselves to the lighter arts, like organ-grinding, operaticsinging, and assassination. We h
ave blundered, that is plain.
All along the river, near every village, we saw little station-housesfor the future railway. They were finished and waiting for the rails andbusiness. They were as trim and snug and pretty as they could be. Theywere always of brick or stone; they were of graceful shape, they hadvines and flowers about them already, and around them the grass wasbright and green, and showed that it was carefully looked after. Theywere a decoration to the beautiful landscape, not an offense. Whereverone saw a pile of gravel or a pile of broken stone, it was always heapedas trimly and exactly as a new grave or a stack of cannon-balls; nothingabout those stations or along the railroad or the wagon-road wasallowed to look shabby or be unornamental. The keeping a country in suchbeautiful order as Germany exhibits, has a wise practical side toit, too, for it keeps thousands of people in work and bread who wouldotherwise be idle and mischievous.
As the night shut down, the captain wanted to tie up, but I thoughtmaybe we might make Hirschhorn, so we went on. Presently the sky becameovercast, and the captain came aft looking uneasy. He cast his eyealoft, then shook his head, and said it was coming on to blow. My partywanted to land at once--therefore I wanted to go on. The captain said weought to shorten sail anyway, out of common prudence. Consequently, thelarboard watch was ordered to lay in his pole. It grew quite dark, now,and the wind began to rise. It wailed through the swaying branches ofthe trees, and swept our decks in fitful gusts. Things were taking on anugly look. The captain shouted to the steersman on the forward log:
"How's she landing?"
The answer came faint and hoarse from far forward:
"Nor'-east-and-by-nor'--east-by-east, half-east, sir."
"Let her go off a point!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"What water have you got?"
"Shoal, sir. Two foot large, on the stabboard, two and a half scant onthe labboard!"
"Let her go off another point!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"Forward, men, all of you! Lively, now! Stand by to crowd her round theweather corner!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
Then followed a wild running and trampling and hoarse shouting, but theforms of the men were lost in the darkness and the sounds were distortedand confused by the roaring of the wind through the shingle-bundles. Bythis time the sea was running inches high, and threatening every momentto engulf the frail bark. Now came the mate, hurrying aft, and said,close to the captain's ear, in a low, agitated voice:
"Prepare for the worst, sir--we have sprung a leak!"
"Heavens! where?"
"Right aft the second row of logs."
"Nothing but a miracle can save us! Don't let the men know, or therewill be a panic and mutiny! Lay her in shore and stand by to jump withthe stern-line the moment she touches. Gentlemen, I must look to you tosecond my endeavors in this hour of peril. You have hats--go forward andbail for your lives!"
Down swept another mighty blast of wind, clothed in spray and thickdarkness. At such a moment as this, came from away forward that mostappalling of all cries that are ever heard at sea:
"MAN OVERBOARD!"
The captain shouted:
"Hard a-port! Never mind the man! Let him climb aboard or wade ashore!"
Another cry came down the wind:
"Breakers ahead!"
"Where away?"
"Not a log's length off her port fore-foot!"
We had groped our slippery way forward, and were now bailing with thefrenzy of despair, when we heard the mate's terrified cry, from far aft:
"Stop that dashed bailing, or we shall be aground!"
But this was immediately followed by the glad shout:
"Land aboard the starboard transom!"
"Saved!" cried the captain. "Jump ashore and take a turn around a treeand pass the bight aboard!"
The next moment we were all on shore weeping and embracing for joy,while the rain poured down in torrents. The captain said he had been amariner for forty years on the Neckar, and in that time had seen stormsto make a man's cheek blanch and his pulses stop, but he had never,never seen a storm that even approached this one. How familiar thatsounded! For I have been at sea a good deal and have heard that remarkfrom captains with a frequency accordingly.
We framed in our minds the usual resolution of thanks and admirationand gratitude, and took the first opportunity to vote it, and put itin writing and present it to the captain, with the customary speech. Wetramped through the darkness and the drenching summer rain full threemiles, and reached "The Naturalist Tavern" in the village of Hirschhornjust an hour before midnight, almost exhausted from hardship, fatigue,and terror. I can never forget that night.
The landlord was rich, and therefore could afford to be crusty anddisobliging; he did not at all like being turned out of his warm bed toopen his house for us. But no matter, his household got up and cookeda quick supper for us, and we brewed a hot punch for ourselves, to keepoff consumption. After supper and punch we had an hour's soothing smokewhile we fought the naval battle over again and voted the resolutions;then we retired to exceedingly neat and pretty chambers upstairs thathad clean, comfortable beds in them with heirloom pillowcases mostelaborately and tastefully embroidered by hand.
Such rooms and beds and embroidered linen are as frequent in Germanvillage inns as they are rare in ours. Our villages are superiorto German villages in more merits, excellences, conveniences, andprivileges than I can enumerate, but the hotels do not belong in thelist.
"The Naturalist Tavern" was not a meaningless name; for all the hallsand all the rooms were lined with large glass cases which were filledwith all sorts of birds and animals, glass-eyed, ably stuffed, and setup in the most natural eloquent and dramatic attitudes. The moment wewere abed, the rain cleared away and the moon came out. I dozed off tosleep while contemplating a great white stuffed owl which was lookingintently down on me from a high perch with the air of a person whothought he had met me before, but could not make out for certain.
But young Z did not get off so easily. He said that as he was sinkingdeliciously to sleep, the moon lifted away the shadows and developeda huge cat, on a bracket, dead and stuffed, but crouching, with everymuscle tense, for a spring, and with its glittering glass eyes aimedstraight at him. It made Z uncomfortable. He tried closing his own eyes,but that did not answer, for a natural instinct kept making him openthem again to see if the cat was still getting ready to launch athim--which she always was. He tried turning his back, but that was afailure; he knew the sinister eyes were on him still. So at last he hadto get up, after an hour or two of worry and experiment, and set the catout in the hall. So he won, that time.