Judge, 1912-01-20 · page 10 of 24
Judge — January 20, 1912 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents a German folk poem ("Der wandernde Musikant") with English translation, paired with a woodcut illustration of a wandering musician playing violin to villagers. The piece is **not political satire** but rather **cultural/ethnic humor**. The joke operates on stereotypes: a traveling musician arrives in a German village, captivates the (implied: gullible) villagers with fiddle-playing, collects their money, then departs—repeating this scheme regularly ("When I have some gasoline," the English translation adds, adding modern absurdity). The humor mocks both the itinerant musician's con-artist lifestyle and the villagers' susceptibility to entertainment and emotional manipulation. The illustration shows the musician performing while villagers listen, capturing the moment before the supposed "pillaging" of their wallets. For modern readers: this represents turn-of-century ethnic humor portraying Germans as sentimental, easily manipulated by music and emotion.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A SYM-PHONY FROM Der wandernde Musikant. URRISCH sitzen sie und raulen, Auf den Biinken stumm und breit, Giihnend strecken sich die Feulen Und die Kecken suchen Streit. Da komm’ ich durchs Dorf geschritten, Fernher durch den Abend kihl, Stell’ mich in des Kreises Mitten, Griisz’ und zieh’ mein Geigenspiel. Und wie ich den Bogen schwenke, Ziehn die Kliinge in der Rund’ Allen recht durch die-Gelenke Bis zum tiefsten Herzensgrund. Und nun geht’s ans Gliserklingen, An ein Walzen um und um, Je mehr ich streich’, je mehr sie springen, Keiner fragt erst lang: warum?— Jeder will dem Geiger reichen Nun sein Scherflein auf die Hand— Da vergeht ihm gleich sein Streichen Und fort ist der Musikant. Und sie sehn ihn fréhlich steigen Nach den Waldeshéhn hinaus, Héren ihn von fern noch geigen Und gehn all’ vergnigt nach Haus. Doch in Waldes griinen Hallen Rast ich dann noch manche Stund’, Nur die fernen Nachtigallen Schlagen tief aus niicht’gem Grund. Und es rauscht die Nacht so leise Durch die Waldeseinsamkeit Und ich sinn’ auf neue Weise, Die der Menschen Herz erfreut. THE GERMAN. The Wandering Musician. ULL and gloomy on the benches, There they sit in listless mood— Lazy ones with monkey wrenches, Braver ones devoid of food. Then, as I approach the village From afar in evening’s chill, I arrive in time to pillage, And with fiddle show my skill. And my bow, with rhythmic motion, With grand melody fills spac Arms and legs splash in the oc Joy and shouting on each face. Cheerfully they clink the glasses, And they waltz in circles gay. See them gambol, lads and lasses! See them gayly walk away! Each one slips to me a quarter, Puts the trifle in my hand; Then I quit and drink some water, After which I leave my stand. Then they see me hopping gayly Up the mountain’s forest green. I repeat the journey daily, When I have some gasoline. But in verdant forest places I remain for many hours, See the nightingales’ sweet faces Here and there among the flowers. And the night’s mysterious rackets In the lonely forest wild Make me think of yellow jackets When I used to be a child. comicbooks.com