The Tanners

Kaspar had a low opinion of Sebastian; that’s why he was mocking him. He had no understanding whatever for tragic individuals, or rather, he understood them all too easily, all too well, and therefore had no respect for them. Moreover, he was in a diabolical mood this evening.

Hedwig leapt to defend the poor insulted fellow who was unable to stand up for himself: “How awful of you to speak in such a way, Kaspar,” she cried to her brother with an ardor that sprang from her eagerness to defend the lad, “and certainly not clever either. You enjoy hurting a person who should be spared and respected by all for the sake of his unhappiness. Mock all you like. I know you regret your words. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d have to consider you a ruffian, a tormenter. It’s so easy to torment an unfortunate, defenseless person, one might as well torture some poor animal. The defenseless all too easily fill the strong with a desire to inflict pain. If you can feel strong, be happy, and leave the weaker ones in peace. You show your strength in a bad light, misusing it to torment the weak. Why isn’t it enough for you to stand on a firm footing, do you have to place your foot upon the necks of others, the hesitant seekers, making them doubt themselves even more and sending them plummeting down, down into the waters of despair? Must self-confidence, courage, strength and determination always commit the sin of pitilessly, tactlessly riding roughshod over others, even though these others aren’t in their way at all, they’re just standing there covetously listening to the peals of fame, respect and success ringing out? Is it noble and good to insult a soul filled with longing? Poets are so easily hurt; oh, one should never hurt poets. By the way, I’m not even speaking about you now, my little Kaspar; for have you yourself amounted to much of anything in this world? You yourself perhaps still amount to nothing and have no cause to scoff at others who amount to nothing as well. When you wrestle with fate, let others do the same as best they can. Both of you are already wrestling, so why battle one another? How foolish, how unwise. Both of you will find pain enough in the perils and meanderings and promises and failures in your art; must you insist on causing one another even more pain? In all truth, I’d be a poet’s brother if I were a painter. And never be so swift to look in scorn upon someone who is failing or appears lethargic or inactive. How quickly his sunshine, his poems can arise from these long, dull dreams! And where does that leave the ones who were so hasty with their scorn? Sebastian is struggling honestly with life, that in itself should be a reason to respect and love him. How can one mock him for his soft heart? Shame on you, Kaspar, and may you never again give me cause — if you have even a trace of love for your sister — to get worked up like this over you. I’d rather not. I revere Sebastian because I know he has the courage to admit his many failings. As for the rest, it’s all just idle chatter — feel free to leave if you prefer not to walk with us. What a face you’re making, Kaspar! Just because a girl who enjoys the privilege of being your sister happens to give you a lecture, is this grounds for anger? No, don’t be angry. Please. And of course you’re allowed to make fun of poetry. Why ever not. I was taking things too seriously a moment ago. Forgive me.”

A delicate, shy but tender smile was playing in the dark about Sebastian’s lips. Hedwig devoted herself to flattering her brother until his mood improved. He then gave an imitation of her impassioned speech, causing all three of them to break out in resounding laughter. Sebastian in particular laughed himself silly. Gradually all had grown still and empty beneath the trees; people had returned to their homes, the lights were dreaming, but many lights had been extinguished as well, and the distance no longer glittered. There in rural parts, it seemed, lights were snuffed out earlier; the distant mountains now lay like dead black bodies, but still isolated human couples remained who weren’t making for home, but rather looked as if they meant to spend the entire night conversing wide-awake beneath the sky.