Chapter 2

On Monday morning, September 5th, 1819, I saw from the heights of
Frederiksburg, Copenhagen, for the first time. At this place I alighted
from the carriage, and with my little bundle in my hand, entered the
city through the castle garden, the long alley and the suburb.

The evening before my arrival had been made memorable by the breaking
out of the so-called Jews quarrel, which spread through many European
countries. The whole city was in commotion [Footnote: This remarkable
disturbance makes a fine incident in Anderson's romance of "Only a
Fiddler."--M. H.]; every body was in the streets; the noise and tumult
of Copenhagen far exceeded, therefore, any idea which my imagination
had formed of this, at that time, to me great city.

With scarcely ten dollars in my pocket, I turned into a small public-
house. My first ramble was to the theatre. I went round it many times;
I looked up to its walls, and regarded them almost as a home. One of
the bill-sellers, who wandered about here each day, observed me, and
asked me if I would have a bill. I was so wholly ignorant of the world,
that I thought the man wished to give me one; I therefore accepted his
offer with thankfulness. He fancied I was making fun of him and was
angry; so that I was frightened, and hastened from the place which was
to me the dearest in the city. Little did I then imagine that ten years
afterwards my first dramatic piece would be represented there, and that
in this manner I should make my appearance before the Danish public. On
the following day I dressed myself in my confirmation suit, nor were
the boots forgotten, although, this time, they were worn, naturally,
under my trousers; and thus, in my best attire, with a hat on, which
fell half over my eyes, I hastened to present my letter of introduction
to the dancer, Madame Schall. Before I rung at the bell, I fell on my
knees before the door and prayed God that I here might find help and
support. A maid-servant came down the steps with her basket in her
hand; she smiled kindly at me, gave me a skilling (Danish), and tripped
on. Astonished, I looked at her and the money. I had on my confirmation
suit, and thought I must look very smart. How then could she think that
I wanted to beg? I called after her.

"Keep it, keep it!" said she to me, in return, and was gone.

At length I was admitted to the dancer; she looked at me in great
amazement, and then heard what I had to say. She had not the slightest
knowledge of him from whom the letter came, and my whole appearance and
behavior seemed very strange to her. I confessed to her my heartfelt
inclination for the theatre; and upon her asking me what characters I
thought I could represent, I replied, Cinderella. This piece