“Drink and be merry,” said he to his gay companions.  “Let us forget for a few hours that we are poor, despised German actors.  We will drink, and picture to ourselves that we belong to the cherished and celebrated artistes of the French stage, on whom the Germans so willingly shower gold, honor, and even love.  Raise your glasses, and drink with me to the success of German art!”

“We will drink also to Eckhof,” cried one of the youthful company, raising his glass.  “Yes, to the father of the now school of German acting.”

“You are that, Eckhof, and you are also our benefactor,” said another.  “We thank you, that for some months we have not suffered from hunger and thirst; that the good people of Berlin take an interest in the German stage, and treat us with some consideration.  Let us, then, drink to our preserver, to the great Eckhof!”

Every glass was raised, and their shouts rang out merrily.  Eckhof alone was sad and troubled, and his great dreamy eyes gazed thoughtfully in the distance.  His friends observed this, and questioned him as to the cause of his melancholy.

“I am not melancholy, though a German actor has always good reason to be so; but I have some new plans which I wish to disclose to you.  You greet me as your benefactor.  Alas! how suffering, how pitiful must your condition be, if such a man as I am can have been useful to you!  You are all artistes, and I say this to you from honest conviction, and not from contemptible flattery.  You are greater in your art than I am, only you had not the courage to break through the old and absurd customs of your predecessors.  That I have done this, that I have dared to leave the beaten paths, is the only service I have rendered.  I have tried to banish from the stage the crazy fools who strutted from side to side, and waved their arms from right to left; who tried to play the orator by uttering their pathetic phrases in weird, solemn sounds from the throat, or trumpeted them through the nose.  I have placed living men upon the boards, who by natural speech and action lend truth and reality to the scenes they wish to portray.  You, comrades, have assisted me faithfully in this effort.  We are in the right path, but we are far from the goal.  Let us go forward, then, bravely and hopefully.  You think yourselves happy now in Berlin; but I say to you that we dare not remain in Berlin.  This vegetation, this bare permission to live, does not suffice, will not satisfy our honor.  I think, with Caesar, it is better to be the first in a village than the second or third in a great city.  We will leave Berlin; this cold, proud, imperious Berlin, which cherishes the stranger, but has no kind, cheering word for her own countrymen.  Let us turn our backs upon these French worshippers, and go as missionaries for the German drama throughout our fatherland.”

A long pause followed this speech of Eckhof; every eye was thoughtful, every face was troubled.