l find in this work proof of the old truth that a satirist is always
and originally a man of high ideals and imagination. They will gain an
insight into his much slandered soul, which is always that of a great
poet. They will readily understand that this poet only became a satirist
through the vivacity of his imagination, through the strength of his
poetic vision, through his optimistic belief in humanity and its
possibilities; and that it was precisely this great faith which forced
him to become a satirist, because he could not endure to see all his
pure ideals and the possibilities of perfection soiled and trampled upon
by thoughtless mechanics, aimless mockers and babbling reformers. The
humorist may be--and very often is--a sceptic, a pessimist, a nihilist;
the satirist is invariably a believer, an optimist, an idealist. For let
this dangerous man only come face to face, not with his enemies, but
with his ideals, and you will see--as in "Atta Troll"--what a generous
friend, what an ardent lover, what a great poet he is. Thus no one will
be in the least disturbed by Heine's satire: on the contrary, those who
object to it on principle will hardly be aware of it, so delighted will
they be with the wonderful imagination, the glowing descriptions, and
the passionate lyrics in which the poetry of "Atta Troll" abounds. The
poem may be and will be read by them as "Gulliver's Travels" is read
to-day by young and old, by poet and politician alike, not for its
original satire, but for its picturesque, dramatic, and enthralling
tale._

_But let those who still believe that writing is fighting, and not
sham-fighting only, those who hold that a poet is a soldier of the pen
and therefore the most dangerous of all soldiers, those who feel that
our age needs a hailstorm of satire, let these, I say, look closer at
the wonderfully ideal figures that pass before them in the pale
mysterious light. Let them listen more intently to the flutes and harps
and they will discover quite a different melody beneath--a melody by no
means bewitching or soothing, nor inviting us to dreams, sweet
forgetfulness, soft couches, and tender embraces, but a shrill and
mocking tune that is at times insolently discordant and that strikes us
as decidedly modern, realistic, and threatening. As the poet himself
expressed it in his dedication to Varnhagen von Ense:_

"_Aye, my friend, such strains arise_
_From the dream-time that is dead_
Though