KANNITVERSTAN
AUTHOR NAME HERE
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From First German Reader: A Beginner's Dual-Language
Book
edited by Harry Steinhauer, Bantem Foreign
Language, 1964, pg 181:
Johann Peter Hebel (1760-1826) was a clergyman
and educator. He published many anecdotes
and didactic tales under the title Schatzkästlein des rheinländischen Hausfreundes (Little Treasure Chest of the Rhenish Family
Friend). The book has remained a classic
because of Hebel's narrative power and his
dry wit. |
This story has long been a favorite of mine.
Like the young man from Tuttlingen we all
may learn actual and essential truths about
life even though we may not even have a clue
about what is really going on. I suppose
that it is a truism to say that this happens
more often than we realize. Somehow I suspect
that it happens quite a lot. This realization
should also remind us that stories can teach
important fundamental metaphorical truths
even though the stories themselves are factually
untrue.
Kannitverstan
by Johann Peter Hebel
Man indeed has the opportunity every day,
in Emmendingen or Gundelfingen as well as
in Amsterdam, to speculate, if he wants to,
on the inconsistency of all earthly things
and to become satisfied with his fate, even
though there aren't many roast pigeons flying
about in the air for him. But, through an
error, a German artisan in Amsterdam arrived
at the truth and its recognition by the strangest
roundabout way. For when he had come to this
great and rich commercial city full of splendid
houses, swaying ships and busy people, his
eye was at once caught by a large and handsome
house, such as he had never yet experienced
on all his wanderings from Tuttlingen to
Amsterdam.
For a long time he contemplated this luxurious
building in astonishment, the six chimneys
on its roof, its beautiful cornices and its
tall windows, larger than the door of his
father's house at home. Finally he could
not refrain from addressing a passer-by.
"My good friend," he said to him,
"couldn't you tell me the name of the
gentleman who owns this wonderfully beautiful
house with its windows full of tulips, daisies
and stocks?" But the man, who presumably
had something more important to do and unfortunately
understood just as much of the German language
as the questioner of Dutch, that is to say
nothing, said shortly and brusquely, "Kannitverstan"
and buzzed past.
Now this was a Dutch word, or three if you
want to be exact, and means in German as
much as "Ich kann Euch nicht verstehn."
("I can't understand you." ) But
the good stranger believed that this was
the name of the man he had asked about. He
must have been an awfully rich man, this
Herr Kannitverstan, he thought and went on.
Out one street, in another, he finally came
to the bay they call there Het Ey, or in
German, the Y. There stood ship beside ship
and mast beside mast, and at first he didn't
know how he would manage to see and contemplate
his fill of all these marvels with his two
eyes alone, until finally his attention was
caught by a large ship which had recently
arrived from East India and was now being
unloaded.
Whole rows of boxes and bales were already
standing on and beside one another on land.
But more kept being rolled out, and barrels
full of sugar and coffee, full of rice and
pepper and, pardon the expression, mouse
droppings too. But when he had looked for
a long time, he finally asked a fellow who
was just carrying a chest on his shoulder
for the name of the lucky man for whom the
sea was bringing all these goods to shore.
"Kannitverstan" was the reply.
At this he thought, Aha, is that it?"
No wonder, a man for whom the sea floats
such treasures ashore can well afford to
put such houses into the world and such breeds
of tulips in front of his windows in gilded
flowerpots.
Now he went back again and began a really
sad speculation in his mind, what a poor
man he was among so many rich people in the
world. But just as he was thinking, if I
had it as good as this Herr Kannitverstan,
only once - he turned a corner and saw a
long funeral procession. Four horses, draped
in black, were drawing a hearse, which was
likewise draped in black, slowly and mournfully,
as if they knew that they were taking a dead
man to his rest. A long train of friends
and acquaintances of the deceased followed,
pair by pair, enveloped in black coats and
silent. In the distance a lonely bell was
tolling.
Now our stranger was seized by a melancholy
feeling, which never passes a good man by
when he sees a corpse, and he stood there
devoutly with his hat in his hands until
they had all passed by. However he went up
to the last man in the procession, who was
just then calculating silently how much he
would profit from his cotton if it went up
ten guldens a hundredweight, gently took
hold of his cloak and innocently begged his
pardon. "That must have been a good
friend of yours," he said, "for
whom the bell is tolling, that you are following
the procession so sadly and pensively."
"Kannitverstan!" was the reply.
At this a few big tears fell from the eyes
of our man from Tuttlingen, and he suddenly
felt heavy and then again light about his
heart. "Poor Kannitverstan," he
exclaimed, "what profit do you get from
all your wealth now" What I will get
from my poverty some day too: a shroud and
a sheet, and from all your beautiful flowers
- perhaps a sprig of rosemary on your cold
chest or a rue."
With these thoughts he accompanied the corpse
to the grave as if he belonged to the party,
saw the supposed Herr Kannitverstan lowered
to his rest and was more moved by the Dutch
funeral oration, of which he did not understand
a word, than by many a German one to which
he paid no attention. Finally he went away
with the others with a light heart and ate
a piece of Limburger cheese with a good appetite
at an inn where they understood German, and
whenever he was again threatened by the sad
thought that so many people in the world
were so rich and he so poor, he merely thought
of Herr Kannitverstan in Amsterdam, of his
great house, his rich ship and his narrow
grave
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