THE CONTRAST
1.SOME years since，a German prince，making a tour of Europe，stopped at Venice for a short period.It was the close of summer；the Adriatic was calm，the nights were lovely，and the Venetian women in the full enjoyment of those delicious spirits，that，in their climate，rise and fall with the coming and the departure of the finest season of the year.Every day was given by the illustrious stranger to research among the records and antiquities of this singular city，and every night to amusement on the river Brenta.When the morning was nigh，it was the custom to return to sup at some of the palaces of the nobility.
2.In the commencement of his intercourse，all national distinctions were carefully suppressed；but，as his intimacy increased，he was forced to see the lurking vanity of the Italians breaking out.One of its most frequent exhibitions was in the little dramas that wound up these stately festivals.The wit was constantly sharpened by some contrast of the Italian and the German，some slight aspersions on Teutonic rudeness，some remark on the history of a people untouched by the elegance of southern manners.The sarcasm was conveyed with Italian grace，and the offense softened by its humor.It was obvious that the only retaliation must be humorous.
3.At length，the prince，on point of taking leave，invited his entertainers to a farewell supper.He drew the conversation to the infinite superiority of the Italians，and，above all，of the Venetians，acknowledged the darkness in which Germany had been destined to remain so long，and looked forward with infinite sorrow to the comparative opinion of posterity upon the country to which so little of its gratitude must be due.“But，my lords，”said he，“we are an emulous people，and an example like yours cannot be lost，even upon a German.I have been charmed with your dramas，and have contrived a little arrangement to give one of our country，if you will follow me to the great hall.”The company rose and followed him through the splendid suite of Venetian apartments to the hall，which was fitted up as a German barn.
4.The aspect of the room produced first surprise，and next a universal smile.It had no resemblance to their own gilded，sculptured，and sumptuous little saloons.However，it was only so much the more Teutonic.The curtain drew up.The surprise rose into loud laughter，even among the Venetians，who have been seldom betrayed into any thing beyond a smile，for generations together.
5.The stage was a temporary erection，rude and uneven The scene represented a wretched and irregular street，scarcely lighted by a few twinkling lamps，and looking the fit haunt of robbery and assassination.On a closer view，some of the noble spectators began to think it had some resemblance to an Italian street，and actually discovered in it one of the leading streets of their own famous city.But the play was on a German story；they were under a German roof：the street was，notwithstanding its ill-omened similitude，of course，German.The street was solitary.At length，a traveler，a German，with pistols in a belt round his waist，and apparently exhausted by his journey，came pacing along.He knocked at several doors，but could obtain no admission.He then wrapped himself up in his cloak，sat down on a fragment of a monument，and soliloquized.
6.“Well，here have I come；and this is my reception All palaces；no inns；all nobles，and not a man to tell me where I can lie down incomfort or in safety.Well，it can not be helped.A German does not much care；campaigning has hardened us.Hunger and thirst，heat and cold，dangers of war and the roads，are not very formidable，after what we have had to work through from father to son.Loneliness，however，is not so well，unless a man can labor or read.Read！That‘s true，come out，Zimmermann①.”He took a volume from his pocket，moved nearer to the decaying lamp，and soon seemed absorbed.
7.Another form soon attracted the eyes of the spectators.A long，light figure came with a kind of visionary movement，from behind the monument，surveyed the traveler with keen curiosity，listened with apparent astonishment to his words，and in another moment had fixed itself gazing over his shoulder on the volume.The eyes of this singular being wandered rapidly over the page，and when it was turned，they were lifted to heaven with the strongest expression of wonder.The German was weary；his head soon drooped over his study，and he closed the book.
8.“What，”said he，rising and stretching his limbs，“is there no one stirring in this comfortless place？Is it not near day？”He took out his repeater，and touched the pendant；it struck four.His mysterious attendant had watched him narrowly；the repeater was traversed over with an eager gaze；but when it struck，delight was mingled with the wonder that had till then filled its pale，intelligent countenance.“Four o’clock，”said the German；“in my country，half the world would be thinking of going to their day‘s work by this time.In another hour，it will be sunrise.Well，then，I’ll do you a service，you nation of sleepers，and make you open your eyes.”He drew out one of his pistols，and fired it.The attendant form，still hovering behind him，had looked curiously upon the pistol，but on its going off，started back in terror，and with a loud cry that made the traveler turn.
9.“Who are you？”was his greeting to this strange intruder.“I will not hurt you，”was the answer.“Who cares about that？”was the German‘s retort；and he pulled out the other pistol.“My friend，”said the figure，“even that weapon of thunder and lightning cannot reach me now；but if you would know who I am，let me entreat you to satisfy my curiosity a moment；you seem a man of extraordinary powers.”“Well，then，”said the German，in a gentle voice，“if you come as a friend，I shall be glad to give you information；it is the custom of our country to deny nothing to those who love to learn.”