Hans Christian Andersen and Lübeck

      In St. Mary's Church I saw the famed astronomical clock-
work, and the still more famous cycle of paintings, called
"The Dance of Death." Every rank, every age, from the
Pope to the child in the cradle, is here invited to take a part
in Death's cotillon(1), and all in the costume of the time in
which they were painted, which is said to have been in the
year 1463. Under each figure stands a verse in Low German
- a dialogue between the dancers: these verses, however, are
not the original old rhymes, but a later poetical attempt made
about 1701(2). It appeared to me as if the painter had placed
an ironical smile in the dancing skeltons' faces, that seemed
as if it would say to me and the whole company of spectators.
who were here, and made their remarks on it, "You imagine,
now, that you are standing still, or at most walking about in St.
Mary's Church, and looking at the old pictures. Death has
not yet got you with him in the dance; and yet you already
dance with me ; aye altogether ! The great dance begins from
the cradle. Life is like the lamp, which begins to burn out as
soon as it is lighted. As old as each of you are, so many years
have I already danced with you; every one has his different
turn, and the one holds out in the dance longer than the other;
but toward the morning hour the lights burn out, and then -
tired, fatigued - you all sink down in my arms, and - that is
called death! "

      When Christian had entered, the door was closed again.
Upon the walls of the little room hung several pictures which
had a peculiar interest for him: there were representations(3) of
the "Dance of Death," in colored prints, after the paintings in
the Church of Maria at Lubeck; all must here take part in
the dance, from the Pope and the Emperor to the child in the
cradle, which exclaims in astonishment, -

" O Death, this art how can I know?
That I must dance, yet cannot go ! "

      Christian looked at the figures in the pictures, and it oc-
curred to him that they all turned their backs to him; he in-
quired what this could mean.
      "They have moved in dancing," answered the godfather,
and arranged the figures. " Hast thou stood long outside the
door?" he then asked.
      "No, not long; thou wast playing on the fiddle, and I lis-
tened. If I had been here should I have seen how Death
danced, and how the puppets moved? for it is all true which
thou hast told me of them, is it not?"
      "They shall be thine," replied the godfather, and took down
the pictures from the wall. " Tell thy father that I have given
them to thee; the glass and frames, however, I shall keep my-
self. They are pretty figures, are they not? Thou canst like
them? Am I not good? Speak !"

[the godfather then teaches Christian to play the fiddle]

      Nearly a whole hour did the first lesson last. The god-
father then took the instrument himself and played; that was
fiddling! He trifled with the tones as a juggler who plays
with his golden apples and sharp knives.
      "Ah, only play how Death dances!" besought the boy, and
the godfather drew forth some sharp tones so that the bass-
strings still vibrated, whilst the quinte hissed in soft tones.
      "Dost thou bear the Emperor? He appears amidst the
sound of trumpets; but now comes Death, he drives along like
a whistling wind! Dost thou hear the Pope? He sings
psalms; but Death shakes his scythe! Beautiful maidens
float along in a giddy dance; but Death -yes, thou dost
hear him? - he sings like a mourning cricket!" And the
godfather closed his eyes; upon his brow stood large drops of
sweat.