especially his "art," too much to heart. Thus, if he spent an evening at the theater, he
nearly went out of his mind if the machinist had put too strong a light into each cheek of
the moon, or if canvases representing the sky were hanging in front of the scene instead
of behind, or if a palm tree appeared in a local landscape, cacti on the Tirolean plains, or
beech trees in the high mountains of Norway. What does it matter; who cares! It is only a
play intended for amusement. The audience was sure to be wrong, sometimes applauding
too much and sometimes too little. "Look, that is wet wood tonight," he said. "It won't
burn!" And when he turned around to see what kind of people were there, he found them
laughing in the wrong places. All this annoyed and pained him. He was a miserable man,
and now he is in his grave.
Here rests, on the other hand, a very fortunate man-I mean to say he was a man of
extremely noble birth. In fact, that constituted his good fortune, for had he not been
highborn he would never have amounted to anything. But, then, everything is so wisely
arranged, and that is a pleasure to know. His coats were embroidered in front and in back,
very much like a fine, embroidered bellpull in a room, for behind the handsome, gaudy
bellpull is always a good, strong, plain cord that really does all the work. And this man had
his good, stout cord behind him, which now does the work behind a new embroidered
bellpull. That's the way it is; everything is so wisely arranged that it is very easy to keep
one's good humor.
Over here there rests-now, this is really sad!-a man who for sixty-seven years worried and
wracked his brains to hit upon a great idea. For the sake of this idea he lived alone all his
days, and when at last he had convinced himself that he had succeeded, he was so
overcome that he died of joy at having found it-before he even had time to announce it to
the world - so nobody ever heard about his great idea. I can almost fancy that he has no
rest in his grave, because of that great idea which no one but himself has enjoyed or ever
can enjoy. For suppose this was an idea that could be explained successfully only at
breakfast time; and everyone knows that ghosts can walk only at midnight. And if this
ghost should appear among his friends at that appointed hour, his idea would be an utter
failure. No one would laugh, for jesting comes unseasonably at midnight, and so the
unhappy ghost would return to the grave with his great idea. It is really very sad.
Here lies a lady who was a miser. During her lifetime she often arose at night and mewed,
so that the neighbors would imagine she kept a cat, which she was too stingy to do.
And here is a young lady of good family. She always insisted upon singing in society, and
when she sang, "Mi manca la voce!" that was the only truth she ever spoke.
Here rests another young girl, of a very different nature. Alas! When the bird of the heart
begins to sing, too often will Reason stop up her ears. Lovely maiden, she was to be
married; but that's an everyday story - may she rest in peace!
Here lies a widow who had the sweetness of the swan on her lips and the gall of the owl in
her heart. She went from one family to another, feeding upon the faults of her neighbors.
Now, this is a family vault; every member of that family lived in the sublime faith that
whatever the world and the newspapers said must indeed be true. If the young son of that
house came home from school and announced, "This is how I heard it--," his news,
whatever it might be, was received without question, because he belonged to the family.
And certain it is that if the cock of that family had decided to crow at midnight, the whole
family would have insisted that morning had dawned, even if the watchman and all the
clocks of the town announced it was midnight.
The great Goethe concluded his Faust with the words, "It may be continued"; and thus will
I conclude our walk in the churchyard.
I go there often, for whenever one of my friends or unfriends, gives me to understand that
he wishes to be as one dead to me, I go there, find a spot of green turf, and dedicate it to