So fall through altogether the stage-coach intrigues with the stage-coaches themselves, those true hot-houses of episodes and declarations. But, it will be said, there is now a stage-coach in Hanover. Good, I know it; and one quite as good as an English one. And must we, therefore, begin all our romances on the way between Haarburg and Minden, which we now leave so swiftly behind us that we have hardly time to see it? All that the travellers do there, is to break out in praise of the king who has ordered this coach, and to sleep; for they are generally so wearied before they get into this coach, that they then fancy they are got home, or that they lie in bed. But those are proper objects truly to fill a romance with! To introduce five sleeping merchants, all snoring; or to fill out a chapter with the praises of the king! The first is by no means a fit subject for any book, and the latter for no romance.
But through this exception, I have wandered from my proper business. Yes, if there were not left yet a monastery or two, to which we can bring a loving couple for refuge, I should not know how to carry on a German romance to the third page; and when, in fact, there shall no longer be a cloister left, there is an end of German romance.
The majority of the company paid their tribute of approbation to this satire. The observations which they made upon it were interrupted in good time by the appearance of a steaming bowl of punch. When the guests had filled their glasses, Hoffmann seized his guitar, and accompanied the voices of the rest, who sung Schiller's famous song.
Four Elements all thoroughly blent, Build up the world, our being cement.
Press ye the juice of citrons, and pour; Harsh is of life the innermost core.
Now let the sugar's tempering juice, Softly the fiery harsh strength reduce;
Now let the water bright gushing fall; Peacefully water embraceth all.
Let drops of spirit therein be thrown; Life to the life it giveth alone.
Quaff it off quickly ere virtue goes, Only revives the well while it glows.
Freisleben arose, and said, "Let us drink to the prosperity of our friend. May many happy years find him still young in his spirit, and in the love of his art. May future generations lament that he did not live amongst them. May he be continually surrounded by friends who love him as we do! May he only know sickness that he may learn more vividly to enjoy health. May so much earthly good fall to his lot, that he may live contented. To his prosperity let us give a three times thundering Live-hoch! Vivat!--vivat!--vivat!"