In so far as the just appreciation of a literary production is dependent upon a study of its genesis, the reading of Die Epigonen is necessary to a complete understanding of Muenchhausen, for through these two works runs a strong thread of unbroken development.  Hermann, the immature hero of the former, and his associates, bequeath a number of characteristics to the title-hero and his associates of the latter; but where the earlier work is predominantly sarcastic, political, and pessimistic, the later one is humorous, intellectual, and optimistic.  It would seem, therefore, that, in view of its bright outlook, mature view, and sympathetic treatment, Immermann’s greatest epic in prose was destined to be read in its entirety, frequently, and with pleasure.

This is, however, not the case.  Starting from a long line of models, Sterne’s Tristram Shandy among others, Muenchhausen resembles the diffusive works of similar title by Raspe (1785) and Buerger (1787).  It takes its name from Hieronymus Karl Friedrich, Baron of Muenchhausen (1720-1797), and satirizes many of the whimsicalities of Herman Ludwig Heinrich, Prince of Pueckler-Muskau (1785-1871).  And it flagellates again and again such bizarre literary and intellectual phenomena of the time as Raupach’s Hohenstaufen dramas, Goerres’ mysticism, Menzel’s calumniations, Eduard Gans’ liberalism, Bettina’s pretensions, Young Germany’s reaction, even the Indian studies of the Schlegels and Alexander von Humboldt’s substantial scholarship, so that, for the general reader, the larger part of the work is a sealed book.  Its references are obscure, its satire abstruse, its humor vague.  Even Ferdinand Freiligrath, Immermann’s contemporary and friend, declined, on the ground of lack of familiarity with the allusions, to write a commentary to it.

According to Immermann’s own statement, he began Muenchhausen without a shimmer of an idea as to how he would finish it; but he finished it, having in the meantime gone through a complete inner transformation, in a way that surprised even himself and greatly pleased his readers.  We have here, consequently, a novel which, though written as a whole, falls naturally into two parts, the one negative and satirical, the other positive and human.  And odd indeed is the situation in the negative part.

As in Die Epigonen, the scene is laid in Westphalia.  The impoverished Baron Schnuck-Puckelig-Erbsenscheucher, a faithful representative of the narrow-minded and prejudiced nobility, lives with his prudish, sentimental daughter, Emerentia, in the dilapidated castle, Schnick Schnack-Schnurr.  Their sole companion is the daft school-teacher, Agesel, who, having lost, from too much study of phonetics, the major part of his never gigantic mind, imagines that he is a direct descendant of the Spartan King Agesilaus.  With these occupants and no more, the castle resembles a harmless home for the insane.  But one day Muenchhausen, the