The Case of Minckwitz
In the course of the past month I have been called upon to bear the most acute sorrow, dear friend, of which a fine-strung soul like mine is capable. Indeed, my friend, terrible things have occurred! I am misunderstood! And misunderstood by whom? You will scarce believe me when I tell you, but it is even so: misunderstood by Professor Johannes Minckwitz,8 of Leipsic, the great epic poet and literary connoisseur, for whom I feel the deepest reverence and the most tender affection.
Hear the sad news. One morning as I was innocently turning the leaves of my “Neuhochdeutschen Parnass,”9 my thoughts naturally enough wandering somewhat, my faithful maid-of-all-work stepped over the threshold of my door with weeping eyes.
“What in the world has happened to you?” I asked in great consternation. “Has your lover proved faithless, Thrine?”
“I shall have to leave this place, sir,” sobbed the honest creature.
“I don’t understand you, Thrine; express yourself more explicitly.”
“You are dishonoured! And sooner will I starve than serve a dishonoured master, for folks do say that ‘a servant is no better than his master,’ and I am a respectable woman. Here is the paper, you’d better read and see for yourself!” Thrine sobbed bitterly, and handed me a number of the Leipsic local paper, containing an article heavily marked with a red pencil, and thereby recommending itself specially to my attention.
No sooner had I glanced over the first lines of the terrible article than I grew dizzy, and therewith began to tremble convulsively. Thrine fainted away. Picture the scene to yourself, dear friend. Without raged the storm. Ah, the situation was dramatic. From the paper I gathered that Professor Johannes Minckwitz, in just indignation over the last of my harmless letters, had sued the editor of the Salon for misuse of his name, and for literary forgery, and had entrusted Dr. Coccius, a lawyer in Leipsic, with the impeachment.
“Thrine,” I began, after an effective pause, “I begin to understand that we must part! You knew me in happy days of yore, do not forget me now when sorrow is breaking in upon me. One service I would ask of you before parting, it is the last. Do me the favour to accept the “Neuhochdeutschen Parnass” as a token of remembrance from me. You always need paper to clean the windows, I know. Fare-thee-well, Thrine!”
I was left alone with my anguish. Dishonoured, I cried, dishonoured! Misunderstood, indicted! How different was it, oh Kleinstädter, when you glided innocently through the pages of the Salon in the company of better wits than Minckwitz! Johannes turns from me, and
“Wo ich ihn nicht gab,
Ist mir das Grab.”
So “The Death of a Youthful Hero” did not flow from the pen of the great poet! Never was I more surprised than over this discovery. I am to stand before the jury; I shall be condemned to dishonourable penalties—in a word, like the knapsack of the lieutenant, I am perdu.
The Kleinstädter before the jury? Since I have heard that in the “Lawyer Hamlet” the jury are brought upon the stage to do nothing at all, I have a very clear impression of this horrible situation. In this “Lawyer Hamlet,” which, by the way, has been very scantily advertised (indeed scarce thirty papers devoted more than five columns to a detailed account of the piece), there is a certain Baron von Sonne who defends all poor people, and takes this opportunity of speechifying on various topics. This Baron von Sonne is the man for me; I shall turn to him in my extremity. And as I need not fear that the unknown author of “Lawyer Hamlet” will impeach me for misuse of his name—a guilt which he himself has been careful to avoid—I will herewith give the last act of the play, that is to say, the last act as it would have read if the accused had been the Kleinstädter instead of Stella.
Here goes then—
LAWYER HAMLET.
Fourth Act.
(The court-room. At the left the benches of the jury. In the middle a table for the judge. At the right two small tables for the Crown solicitor and for the defendant. To the front a bench for the accused. As the curtain rises the judges are seen to enter. The jurymen take the seats appointed. The Kleinstädter, with his hands and feet securely fettered, is dragged into the room by gens d’armes. The defendant, Lawyer Hamlet, exchanges some words with the accused. The court solicitor breathes revenge.)
First and Last Scene.
Chairman Lehmann. I request the audience to remain quiet; at the first signs of applause or displeasure all persons occupying the gallery will be turned out. The accused will rise from his seat. (The Kleinstädter rises, his chains clash, the audience shudders.) What is your name? (The Kleinstädter looks perplexed, and does not reply.) Do you hear what I say? I asked you what your name is?
The Accused (greatly embarrassed). Oh, Mr. Chairman——
Chairman. Well now, go ahead! What is your name?
The Accused. My name’s Lehmann too.
Chairman. You are accused of having published a poem in the Salon under the name of our honoured and esteemed Professor Johannes Minckwitz, and so to have passed off your own production for his. What have you to say for yourself?
Accused. Nix.10
Lawyer Hamlet. Gentlemen of the jury, I beg that you will note this “nix”; it is of the greatest importance.
Chairman. I must request the defendant not to interrupt the proceedings. Prisoner, no doubt you are aware of the fact that it is culpable to assign to Professor Minckwitz the name of poet—that is, of course I mean poet of verses which he did not make.
Accused. I did not know it, Mr. Chairman; I am innocent.
Lawyer Hamlet. Gentlemen of the jury, I beg that you will note these words; they are of the utmost importance to the following transactions.
Chairman. I wish to ask whether the accused has ever read the poems of Professor Minckwitz.
The Accused (in violent excitement). Never, Mr. Chairman, never! My record is spotless.
Chairman. Why did you not read the poems?
The Accused. All my efforts to obtain the volume were fruitless. I called upon three of my friends who possess a well-equipped library; two of them threatened to impeach me for libel, the third kicked me down stairs.
Chairman. You may sit down. (To the jury.) A number of witnesses have been summoned before the court whose names the Kleinstädter is also charged with having forged. It seems indeed that forgery of names has been systematically indulged in by the prisoner. (To the bailiff.) Bid the witnesses enter.
(General tumult. Chairman’s bell.)
Chairman (to first witness). What is your name?
Witness. Dr. Max Hirsch.
Chairman. Not related to the accused? Not in his service?
Witness. No.
Chairman. In the Kleinstädter’s second letter a speech is quoted which purports to have been delivered by you in Parliament, beginning, “In England... Sheffield... partnership... etc.” Is that correct?
Witness. No. (Sits down.)
Chairman. Second witness: His Majesty the Emperor of Siam. In his fourth letter the Kleinstädter relates how your most serene Highness said to your Highness’ servant among other things, “Ra-phra, how could my predecessor condemn a man of your integrity?” Is that true?
Witness. Never a word of it, by Jove. (Sits down.)
Chairman. Third witness: His Excellency the Imperial Chancellor Freiherr von Beust.
Lawyer Hamlet. I protest against the examination of this witness. Mr. Chairman and Judges, without venturing to impute motives not strictly impersonal to the witness, I feel it my duty to call attention to the fact that the relations between the accused and the witness are too close to assure an unbiassed testimony. Both are countrymen, both are great men; in the name of my client I move that this witness should not be cross-examined.
(The judges put their heads together. After some time the Chairman announces that the court rejects the arguments of the defence as irrelevant, and demands the cross-examination of the witness.)
Chairman. Freiherr von Beust! Not related to the accused?
Witness. No.
Chairman. Not in his service?
Witness. No.
Chairman. In his fifth letter the Kleinstädter quoted a long telegram with the signature of your Excellency, which your Excellency was said to have addressed to the diplomatic representatives at the Journalistentag. Will your Excellency have the kindness to inform us as to the precise facts?
Witness. Well, now, good friend, I’m afraid I’ll not be able to help you. I have sent a good many telegrams in my day.
Chairman. Thank you. (Witness leaves the stand. Chairman addresses the jury.) Provided the gentlemen of the jury have no objections to offer, I will cross-examine the other witnesses all together. Fourth, fifth, and sixth witnesses: Victor Hugo, public writer on the Isle of Guernsey; Richard Wagner, musician in spe, and just now in Switzerland; and third, the man who wrote the prize novel! Gentlemen! in the letters of the Kleinstädter he quotes, or pretends to quote, from your writings; from you, Victor Hugo, a chapter from an unprinted novel about Barbara Ubryk, entitled, “La nonne qui ne rit pas—mais pas du tout.” The chapter to be headed, “Naxos, nix, nox, nux,” and beginning, “Night. Deep night, gloomy, dark. Upon the ground rotten straw. Husks and stems without fruit. In a word, straw.” From you, Mr. Wagner, he quoted verses from Rheingold—
“Winselnde Winde
Wagalaweia!
Oh Eselinde,
Oh Eseleia!”
From you, prize-crowned poet, the novel, The Bloody Tragedy at the Churchyard. Are these quotations authentic—are you the authors of the same?
Witnesses (in concert). No. (They sit down.)
Chairman. Has the accused anything to say for himself?
The Accused. Nix.
Chairman. The list of witnesses is exhausted; the representative of the plaintiff, the Crown Solicitor, has the floor.
Crown Solicitor. Never, gentlemen of the jury, did I fulfil the serious and difficult function of my office with a more quiet conscience or a lighter heart. There is not the faintest doubt stirring within me, no shadow of uneasiness falls upon me; the guilt of the accused is clear as day! We have here before us a hardened villain, a sinner of the deepest dye. What has occurred? A well-known magazine brings out a poem under the name of “Minckwitz.” The poem is not by Minckwitz; the forgery is evident. Taken alone, the fact of choosing this form of criticism would not be criminal; but, gentlemen, when this misuse of a writer’s name has the result of lowering him in public opinion it is decidedly culpable. And here this is the case. If Minckwitz were a poet of distinction, criticism would do him no harm; but as the Kleinstädter’s criticism is just in all points, it does harm Herr Professor Minckwitz, and lowers him in public opinion. The defendant might perhaps say that there is no penal law in the world which forbids criticism of a poet, and that the satire in question did not attack Minckwitz the man, but Minckwitz the poet. Do not permit yourself to be influenced by such sophistry. It is impossible to attack the poet Minckwitz, because there is no such person; whoever attacks Minckwitz attacks the man. I would be the last to restrain the freedom of speech. I admit the value and the necessity of criticism. But the chosen subject must be worthy of criticism. If Minckwitz takes pleasure in tripping up the great ones of literature with the utmost nonchalance in his “Neuhochdeutschen Parnass,” there is no reason why he should not indulge himself; but to criticise Minckwitz in his quality of poet is quite another matter; such a gross misuse of the function of criticism should be interfered with by a court of justice in the interest of the public.
There is another argument which the defence will doubtless bring, to which I should like to reply right here. You will be told, gentlemen of the jury, that the degradation of an author in public opinion can be effective only if the verses published in the Salon, under the name of Minckwitz, are poorer than his authentic ones, and that this is decidedly not the case. Well, it strikes me that the contrary is true! It is just because the verses in the Salon—as I must gladly admit—are much better than any Minckwitz verses; it is for this very reason that public opinion is unfavourably influenced. For, gentlemen, when Minckwitz brings his epos before the public, all the world will say, “The verses in the Salon were much more amusing,” and it seems to me this will not have the effect of heightening the author’s reputation. I have done, gentlemen of the jury. I believe I have proved to your satisfaction that the accused is guilty of the crime with which he was charged, and in consideration of the frequent repetition of literary forgery, as shown by the witnesses, I move that sentence be pronounced for the most severe penalty of the law—viz., confinement in intellectual pursuits to the works of Professor Minckwitz.
(Sensation. Chairman’s bell.)
Chairman. The defendant has the floor.
Lawyer Hamlet. Gentlemen of the jury! We do not come before you with witnesses from the most distant confines of this globe, we do not come with ringing words; no, we are simple, harmless, plain, and true. We need no witnesses; the facts speak for us. Gentlemen of the jury, cast a glance upon the accused, look well at his stolid face, his fixed eyes, his enervated lips; and this innocent creature you would declare guilty of the heinous crime charged to him? Never, if I can help it! The representative of the Crown has told you that literary forgery in a legal sense is only possible where public reputation is endangered. I admit that in a merely human sense the name of Minckwitz was forged, but certainly not in the sense of the law. It strikes me that Professor Minckwitz would do well to get down on his knees and thank the Kleinstädter for occupying himself so minutely with his small person; by means of the article in question Professor Minckwitz is not only not lowered in public opinion, on the contrary he is given more honour than he deserves. Granting, however, that the Kleinstädter could be convicted of forgery, would this be sufficient cause to pronounce sentence upon him? No, gentlemen of the jury, a thousand times no! I asked you just now to note my client’s physiognomy; I repeat my request. In these flaccid muscles, in these dim eyeballs, lurks idiocy. Far be it from us to avenge where we should pity. Yes, gentlemen, this Kleinstädter is an idiot, his physiognomy shows it, and still more evident does it become when you look back upon his conduct during these proceedings—when you remember the imbecility of that perpetual “nix,” and, most of all, by the deed of which he stands accused. There might be some sense in misusing the name of Goethe, Schiller, Heine, Geibel, Heyse, Lenau; I can understand that, though I would not condone it; but to misuse the name of Minckwitz as a poet, that, gentlemen of the jury, cannot be accounted for otherwise than by presupposing complete paralysis of the intellectual functions on the part of the accused. My client is a poor, irresponsible creature; his mental condition annuls his penalty. Gentlemen of the jury, I appeal to your heart. You all have children, rosy-cheeked, blooming, happy; imagine what would be your grief if one of your children should suddenly lose his reason; would you punish that child? No, you would not do so, you could not do it, and you will prove it now by fully acquitting my unfortunate client!
(Sensation and weeping. Bell.)
Chairman. Prisoner, is there anything you have to say for yourself?
The Accused. Nix.
Chairman (recapitulates the proceedings and closes). There are these questions then to be submitted to your judgment—
First: Is the accused guilty of having with malice aforethought forged the name of Minckwitz in such manner as to thereby injure Professor Minckwitz’s public reputation?
Second: Is the accused sane?
(The jury retire. After a short time they return, and their foreman declares in a strong voice that the jury answered both questions unanimously in the affirmative. Great excitement. The court solicitor repeats his proposition; the defendant does the same. After a half-hour’s debate the bell of the Chairman is heard.)
Chairman. Considering that the accused has been convicted of the penal offence with which he had been charged, considering further that the mental condition of the accused gives cause for leniency, the Court sentences the accused to the penalty of finding Minckwitz’s poetry excellent reading.
Paul Lindau.