The Music of Hindostan c14.2

c14.2

Monsieur le Grand knew only a little broken German, only the really important words—Bread, Kiss, Honour—but he could always make his meaning clear on the drum. If I wanted to know, for instance, what was meant by ‘Liberté’ he would drum the *Marseillaise*—and I understood. If I did not know the meaning of ‘Égalité’ he would drum *Ça ira, ça ira . . . les aristocrats à la lanterne*—and I understood him. If I did not know what ‘bêtise’ was he would drum the Dessau march—which we Germans, as Goethe records, used to drum in the Champagne—and I understood him. He wanted once to explain to me the word ‘L’Allemagne’, and he drummed that old, old tune, simplicity itself, the tune that you can hear on fair days outside the booth where the dancing dogs are—*Dumb, dumb, dumb*. It made me very angry, but I understood him.—HEINE.