The conductors were officials of disciplined courtesy and informed minds. They appeared at the door of your compartment5, erect6, requesting your ticket in an established formula. If you asked them something they told you correctly and with a Teutonic adequacy that was grave, but not gruff. Once only in a score of journeys did I encounter bad manners. Now I should never choose these admirable conductors for companions, but as conductors they were superior to the engaging fellow citizen who took my ticket down in Georgia and, when I asked did his train usually make its scheduled connection at Yemassee Junction7, cried out with contagious8 mirth:
"My Lawd, suh, 'most nevah!"
In these German trains another little discord9 jarred with some regularity10: the German passengers they brought from Berlin, or were taking back to Berlin, were of a heavy impenetrable rudeness—quite another breed than the kindly11 Hessians of Frankfurt.
We know the saying of a floor—that it is so clean "you could eat your dinner off it." All the streets of Frankfurt, that I saw, were clean like this. The system of street cars was lucid—and blessedly noiseless!—and their conductors informed with the same adequate gravity I have already noted12.
I found that I developed a special affection for Route 19, because this took me from the station to the opera house. But all routes took one to and through aspects of municipal perfection at which one stared with envy as one thought of home.
Oh, yes! Frankfurt is a name to me compact with memories—memories of clean streets; of streets full of by-passers who could direct you when you asked your way; of streets empty of beggars, empty of all signs of desolate13, drunken or idle poverty; of streets bordered by substantial stone dwellings14, with fragrant15 gardens; of excellent shops; the streets full of prosperous movement and bustle16; an absence of rags, a presence of good stout17 clothes; a people of contented18 faces, whether they talked or were silent—the same firm and broad contentment, like a tree deep-rooted, in the city face that was in the country face.
These burghers, these Frankfurters, seemed to be going about their business with a sort of solid yet placid19 energy, well and deliberately20 aimed, that would hit the mark at once without wasting powder. It was very different and very superior to the ill-arranged and hectic21 haste of New York and Chicago; here nobody seemed driven as though by invisible furies—the German business mind was not out of breath.
Such are my memories of Frankfurt at work. Frankfurt at leisure was to be seen in its Palm Garden. This was the town's place of general recreation; large, various, beautifully and intelligently planned; with space for babies to roll in safety, and there were the babies rolling, and their nurses; with courts for tennis, and thither22 I saw adolescent Frankfurt strolling in flannels23 and short skirts after business hours; with benches where sat the more elderly, taking the air and gazing at the games or the flowers or the pleasant trees; with paths more sequestered24 that wound among bowers25, convenient for sweethearts—but I did not see any, because I forbore to look. A central building held tropic plants and basins, and large rooms for bad weather, I suppose, with a restaurant; but on this fine day the music played and we dined outside.
An entrance fee, very small, served to make you respect the Palm Garden, since humanity seldom respects what it pays nothing for. Most unexpected show of all in this Palm Garden were the flowers under glass. I had erroneously supposed that any German scheme of color would be heavy, and possibly garish26. Never had I beheld27 more exquisite28 subtlety29 on so extended a scale of arrangement. One walked through aisle30 after aisle of roses and other blooms in these greenhouses—everywhere was the same delicate sense and feeling; the same, in fact, in these flower schemes that one finds in German lyric31 verse, and in the songs of Schubert, Schumann and Franz.
It was in the opera house—Frankfurt has a fine and commodious32 one—that my whole impression of Germany's glory culminated33. The performances drew their light from no Melbas or Carusos, or other meteors, but from a fixed34 constellation35, now and then enriched by some visitor; it was teamwork of drilled and even excellence36, singers, chorus, orchestra and scenery unitedly equal to the occasion, in operas old and new, an immense sweep of repertory, with an audience to match—an accustomed audience, to whom music was traditional food, music having always grown hereabout plenteously, indigenously37, so that they took it as naturally as they took their Rhine wine, paying for it as moderately, going to hear it in rather plain clothes, as a rule—men in day dress, women in high-neck; not an audience that had to put on its diamonds in order to listen conspicuously38 to a costly39 and not comprehended exotic.
The difference between hearing opera where it grows and hearing it in New York is the difference between eating strawberries warm from their vines in June and strawberries in January that have come a thousand miles by freight. Where opera grows, it is the blend of native music, singers and listeners that gives a ripe flavor of a warmth which Fifth Avenue can never purchase.
This, every performance in Frankfurt had; but even this could be raised to a higher key of inspiration. I walked in one night and found myself amid a pious40 ceremonial. They were giving an old work, of bygone design, stiff in outline, noble, remote from all present things. Why did they revive this somewhat pale and rigid41 classic? For contrast, variety? Not at all. Two hundred years ago this day, Gluck had been born. Gluck had written this opera. For this reason, then, Frankfurt was assembled to hear Gluck's music and remember him; and, as I looked at these living Germans honoring their classics, I thought it was truly a splendid people that not only possessed42 but practically nourished themselves with these masterpieces of their great dead.
But this was not all. This was Germany looking at its Past. In the Frankfurt opera house I also learned one of the ways in which Germany attends to its Future. It was on a Sunday afternoon. As I crossed the open space toward the opera house it seemed as though I were the only grown person bound there. Children by threes and fours, and in little groups, were streaming from every quarter, entering every door, tripping up the wide, handsome stairs, filling all the seats—boys and girls; it was like the Pied Piper of Hamelin. After a few minutes I found that I was indeed almost alone amid a rippling43 sea of children—nearly two thousand, as I later learned. In the boxes here and there was a parent or two with a family party, and dotted about the house a few scattered44 older heads among the young ones.
The overture45 began. "Hush46!" went several little voices; the sprightly47, expectant Babel fell to silence; they listened like a congregation in church.
Then the curtain rose. It was a gay old opera, tuneful, full of boisterous48, innocent comedy and simple sentiment. Not Gluck this time; Gluck would have been a trifle severe for their young understandings. The enthusiasm and the attention of these boys and girls, with their clapping of hands and their laughter, soon affected49 the spirits of the singers as a radiant day in spring; it affected me. I envied the happy parents who had their children round them; it was like some sort of wonderful April light. Beneath it the quaint50, sweet old opera shone like a fruit tree in blossom. The actors became as children again themselves; so did the fiddlers; so did the conductor. I doubt if that little old opera, Czaar und Zimmermann, had ever felt younger in its life; and I thought if the spirit of Goethe were watching Frankfurt, his city, to-day, it would add a new happiness to a moment of his Eternity51.
Between the acts I was full of questions. What occasion was this? I read the program, wherein was set forth52 a most interesting account of the composer—his character, life and adventures, with a historic account also of Peter the Great, the hero of the opera; but nothing about the occasion. So in the lobby I addressed myself to a group of the men I had seen dotted among the rows of children. The men were schoolmasters. The occasion was an experiment. The children were of the public schools of Frankfurt—not the oldest scholars, but the middle grades of the schools. For the oldest, Frankfurt had already provided opera days, but this was the first ever given for these younger boys and girls. The cost was twelve-and-a-half cents a seat. If it proved a success, a second would follow in two weeks. At the theater, throughout each winter school term, plays were given expressly for them in this way—the great German classics; but never any opera before to-day.
Well, the performance went on; but I was obliged, near the end of it, to hasten away to my train for Nauheim, most reluctantly leaving the sight and company of those two thousand joyous53 children of the Frankfurt public schools. "Rosy54 cheeks predominated; eyeglasses were rare."—Again I quote from my own diary:—"The children seemed between ten and fifteen. The boys had good foreheads and big backs to their heads."
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1
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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12
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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14
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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18
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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25
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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28
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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commodious
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| adj.宽敞的；使用方便的 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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indigenously
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| adv.本土 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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40
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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41
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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42
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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43
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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44
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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45
overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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46
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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47
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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48
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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49
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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50
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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51
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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52
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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53
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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54
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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