Like the myriads of fire-flies on a warm summer evening amid the rising
fog of a marshy ground, so gleams this wit in its smoky atmosphere;
still it is there, notwithstanding the popular notion of Bavarian
stupidity. The North German, and even English and American satirists of
these people, fare generally much as did Ulysses's men on drinking of
Circe's magic cup; and once turned into swine, they are seldom turned
back again, at least until they leave the charmed spot. When once drawn
into the vortex of students' convivial gatherings, they feel that there
is no escape without flying from the place.
A drinking frolic, involving Americans, once called in my aid to settle
a great international difficulty--that is, one about as threatening as
most of those diplomatic cases flaunted so often in our
newspapers--between the United States and Bavarian governments. Two
American art-students had taken a room at Nymphenburg, a little village
in the vicinity of Munich, the site of a royal _chateau_, which in
summer is always occupied by a royal prince. There the great Napoleon
lodged, when he visited the Bavarian capital.
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