The Breitmann Ballads | Page 4

of Mr. Trübner. And if I have re-edited this?work, it was that I might have an opportunity of recording it.
There are others to whom I owe sincere gratitude for?interest displayed in this work when it was young. The first of these was the late CHARLES ASTOR BRISTED of New York. With the exception of the "Barty," most of the poems in the first edition were written merely to fill up letters to him, and as I kept no copy of them, they would have been forgotten, had he not?preserved and printed them after a time in a sporting paper. Nor would they even after this have appeared (though Mr. Bristed once tried to surprise me with a privately printed collection of them, which attempt failed) had not Mr. RINGWALT, my collaborator on the PHILADELPHIA PRESS, and also a printer, had such faith in the work as to have it "set up" in his office, offering to try an edition for me. This was transferred to PETERSON BROTHERS, in whose hands the sale became at once very great; and I should be truly ungrateful if I omitted to mention among the many writers who were very kind in reviews, Mr. GEORGE A. SALA, who was?chiefly influential in introducing Hans Breitmann to the English public, and who has ever been his warmest friend. Another friend who encouraged and aided me by criticism was the late OCTAVE DELEPIERRE, a man of immense erudition, especially in?archæology,?curiosa and facetiæ. I trust that I may be pardoned for here?mentioning that he often spoke of Breitmann's "Interview with the Pope" as his favorite Macaronic poem, which, as he had published two volumes of Macaronea, was praise indeed. His theory was, that as Macaronics were the ultra-extravagance of poetry, he who wrote most recklessly in them did best; in fact, that they should excel in first-rate BADNESS; and from this point of view it is possible that Breitmann's Latin lyric is not devoid of merit, since assuredly nobody ever wrote a worse. The late LORD LYTTON, or "Bulwer," was also kind enough to take an interest in these Ballads, which was to me as gratifying as it was amazing. It was one of the great surprises of my life. I have a long letter from him, addressed to me on the appearance of the collected edition, in 1870. In it he spoke with warmest compliment of the poem of "Leyden," and the first verses of "Breitmann in Belgium."
In conclusion, I acknowledge the courtesy of Messers.?DALZIELL BROTHERS for allowing me to republish here four poems which had appeared in the "Brand New Ballads" published by them in 1885. But to mention all of the people of whom I have?grateful memories in connection with the work, who have become acquainted with me through it, or written to me, or said pleasant words, would be impossible. I am happy to think it would embrace many of the Men of the Times during the last twenty years -- and unfortunately too many who are now departed. And trusting that the reader will take in good part all that I have said, I remain, -- his true friend (for truly there is no friend dearer than a devoted reader),
CHARLES G. LELAND
PREFACE

When HANS BREITMANN'S PARTY, WITH OTHER BALLADS, appeared, the only claim made on its behalf was, that it constituted the first book ever written in English as imperfectly spoken by Germans. The author consequently held himself bound to give his broken English a truthful form. So far as observation and care, aided by the suggestions of well-educated German friends, could enable him to do this, it was done. But the more extensive were his observations, the more did the fact force itself upon his mind, that there is actually no well-defined method or standard of "German-English," since not only do no two men speak it alike, but no one individual is invariably consistent in his errors or accuracies. Every reader who knows any foreign language?imperfectly is aware that HE SPEAKS IT BETTER AT ONE TIME THAN ANOTHER, and it would consequently have been a grave error to reduce the broken and irregular jargon of the book to a fixed and regular language, or to require that the author should invariably write exactly the same mispronunciations with strict consistency on all occasions.
The opinion -- entirely foreign to any intention of the author -- that Hans Breitmann is an embodied satire on everything German, has found very few supporters, and it is with the?greatest gratification that he has learned that educated and intelligent Germans regard Hans as a jocose burlesque of a type which is every day becoming rarer. And if Teutonic philosophy and sentiment, beer, music, and romance, have been made the medium for what many reviewers have kindly declared to be?laughter-moving, let the