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I shall never forget hearing him play the "Walpurgis Nacht," when he appeared at the Amphitheatre in 1835 or 1836. It was painting a picture by means of sounds. His descriptive powers were wonderful. Anybody with the least touch of imagination could bring before "his mind's eye" the infernal revel that the artist was depicting. The enchantments of the witches were visible.
After this came "Stille Nacht," and Uncle Bob joined in, and then the Candy Man, and presently the entrance of Dr. Prue was proclaimed by a vigorous alto. The effect was most gratifying to the performers, and from the piano Margaret Elizabeth murmured, "Very good." When the singing was over she took her seat on a low ottoman in the midst of the children, who drew closer.
Der Eichwald brauset, die Wolken ziehn, Das Maegdlein wandelt an Ufers Gruen; Es bricht sich die Welle mit Macht, mit Macht, Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht, Das Auge von Weinen getruebet: Das Herz is gestorben, die Welt ist leer, Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zurueck, Ich babe genossen das irdische Glueck, Ich babe gelebt and geliebet.
Her eyes were cast down, and she was nervously plaiting the edge of her little black-bordered handkerchief. All at once she raised her eyes and looked straight at the window. How blue her eyes were! Rex dropped his face in his hands. "Oh God! I love her!" he groaned. "Gute Nacht, gnaedige Herrn!" Sepp and Federl stood in their door with a light.
It is better, is it not? All day you may rest and smoke!" Byrne led Harmony past the drunken Portier, who turned with caution and bowed after them. "Gute Nacht," he called. "Kuss die Hand, Fraulein. Four rooms and the salon and a bath of the finest." As they went up the Hirschengasse they could hear him pursuing his unsteady way down the street and singing lustily.
A disliker of coarse expressions, and extremes of every kind, with a perfect horror for revolutions and attempts to revolutionize, exclaiming now and then, as a shriek escapes from whipped and bleeding Hungary, a groan from gasping Poland, and a half-stifled curse from down- trodden but scowling Italy, "Confound the revolutionary canaille, why can't it be quiet!" in a word, putting one in mind of the parvenu in the "Walpurgis Nacht."
As the beggars and wanderers went slinking out of the room, some called impudently, cheerfully: 'Nacht, Frau Wirtin G'Nacht, Wirtin 'te Nacht, Frau, to all of which the hostess answered a stereotyped 'Gute Nacht, never turning her head from her sewing, or indicating by the faintest movement that she was addressing the men who were filing raggedly to the doorway.
And I weep. Ach! It was of most beautifullest." Miriam felt as if she were being robbed.... This was Ulrica. "You remember the Konfirmation, miss?" "Oh, I remember." "Have you weeped?" "We say cry, not weep, except in poetry weinen, to cry." "Have you cry?" "No, I didn't cry. But we mustn't talk. We must go to sleep. Good night." "Gute Nacht. Ach, wie empfindlich bin ich, wie empfindlich...."
She spoke rapidly and I would listen with the closest attention, only to give up in despair, and to say, "Gute Nacht," evening after evening, with my head buzzing and my mind a blank.
"No, and on second thoughts, I don't care to hear it now. Another time. Good night!" "Ah! the gentleman is too good! Thousand thanks! Gute Nacht, gnaediger Herr!" Gethryn remained looking at the crags. "They cannot be half a mile from here," he thought. "I suppose the path is good enough; if not, I can turn back. The lake will look well from there by moonlight."
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