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Johann Peter Hebel
Kannitverstan (1809)
Cannot Understand
(Translation into English)
Every day in Emmendingen
and Gundelfingen, as well as in Amsterdam, man has the opportunity to
reflect on the facts of all earthly things, if he wants to, and to be
satisfied with his fate, even if there are not many roast pigeons flying
around in the air for him.
But in the strangest of detours, a German craftsman in Amsterdam came to
the truth and its realisation through error. For when he arrived in this
large and rich trading city, full of splendid houses, surging ships and
bustling people, a large and beautiful house immediately caught his eye,
the like of which he had never seen in all his travelling from
Duttlingen to Amsterdam.
For a long time he gazed in amazement at this precious building, the six
chimneys on the roof, the beautiful cornices and the high windows,
larger than the door of his father's house at home. At last he could not
resist addressing a passer-by. ‘Good friend,’ he said to him, ’can't you
tell me the name of the gentleman who owns this beautiful house with its
windows full of tulips, starflowers and levkoyas?’ - But the man, who
presumably had something more important to do, and unfortunately
understood just as much of the German language as the questioner did of
the Dutch, namely nothing, said briefly and snappishly: ‘Kannitverstan’;
and purred past.
Passing from pass to pass, he came at last to the gulf called Het Ey, or
the Ypsilon. There stood ship after ship, and mast after mast; and at
first he did not know how he would manage with his two single eyes to
see and observe all these curiosities sufficiently, until at last a
large ship attracted his attention, which had recently arrived from the
East Indies and was now being unloaded. There were already whole rows of
crates and bales lined up and side by side on the shore. Several more
were still being rolled out, and barrels full of sugar and coffee, rice
and pepper, and lots of mouse droppings underneath. But when he had
watched for a long time, he finally asked someone who was carrying a
crate out on his armpit what the lucky man was called to whom the sea
was bringing all these goods ashore. “Kannitverstan” was the
answer.
Then he thought: Haha, does it look like that? No wonder, whoever the
sea washes such riches ashore has such houses to put in the world, and
such tulipans in front of the windows in gilded shards. Now he went back
again, and made a rather sad reflection upon himself, what a poor man he
was among so many rich people in the world.
But just then he thought: If only I had it as good as this Mr.
Kannitverstan has it, he turned a corner and saw a large funeral
procession. Four black-cloaked horses pulled a hearse, also covered in
black, slowly and sadly, as if they knew they were leading a dead man to
his resting place. A long procession of friends and acquaintances of the
deceased followed, couple after couple, cloaked in black coats and
silent. A lone bell rang in the distance. Now our stranger was seized by
a melancholy feeling, which no good man can pass by when he sees a
corpse, and he remained standing reverently with his hat in his hands
until everything was over. But he approached the last man in the
procession, who was silently calculating what he could gain from his
cotton if the hundredweight were to rise by ten guilders, took him
gently by the coat and asked him faithfully for some biscuits. ‘It must
have been a good friend of yours,’ he said, ’who rang the bell for you
to go along so sadly and thoughtfully.’ - "Kannitverstan! ’ was
the answer. Then a few big tears fell from our good Duttlinger's eyes,
and his heart was suddenly heavy and then light again.
‘Poor Kannitverstan,’ he exclaimed, ’what have you now of all your
wealth? What I will get from my poverty one day: a burial robe and a
sheet, and of all your beautiful flowers perhaps a rosemary on my cold
chest, or a rue.’ With these thoughts he accompanied the corpse, as if
he belonged to it, to the grave, saw the supposed Mr Kannitverstan
descend to his resting-place, and was more moved by the Dutch funeral
sermon, of which he did not understand a word, than by many a German one,
to which he paid no attention.
At last he went away again with the others with a light heart, ate a
piece of Limburg cheese with a good appetite in an inn where they
understood German, and, when it once more struck him that so many people
in the world were so rich, and he so poor, he thought only of Mr
Kannitverstan in Amsterdam, of his large house, his rich ship, and his
narrow grave.
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