The Ratcatcher

by Viktor Dyk

He stood above it, pensive and alone. The townspeople of Hamelin would have not appreciated the look he had in his eyes — a look that was deep and bottomless, and at that moment there was not just one abyss at the peak of Koppel Mountain, but rather two.

They burst into excessive laughter that was heard from far away — a laughter that was healthy, tangible, and overindulgent. It was the laughter of a woman who would like to sin.

“Farewell, Jörgen. You are a lost cause,” he said after a little while. “You will never be happy. Does it matter after all? Happiness is not the pinnacle of life. Perhaps you are destined for something better if it doesn’t involve happiness.”

“I am the Ratcatcher!” he shouted abruptly, and those present at the tavern realized that the outside windows were trembling. “I am the Ratcatcher and you recognize who I am! There is no one like

Gently and with a sense of triumph he reached for the most beautiful flower, but his anxiety prevented him from picking it.

“You should allow yourself to have a woman, but never allow her to have you.”

“To love is no better than merely drowning rats. You want more and I will tell you what is necessary. In Wittenberg they say that I sold my soul to the devil. Don’t believe it. First of all there is no such thing as a soul. That is what I, Master Regent Faustus of Wittenberg, declare! But the heart exists and I sold my heart.”

Night fell over Hamelin. Everyone rested between old and new pettiness, old and new sin, and old and new poverty. Everyone was being lulled by homely and minuscule happiness, which wasn’t truly happiness at all.

The river is, at times, like a friend that calms and comforts a person. Its waves flow lightly and its surface seems only slightly darkened. By its banks little fish swim through the clear water. You can reach down and feel the bottom. Then suddenly the water loses its clarity, but not its silence.

The Ratcatcher’s fife awakened old dreams and old sorrows.

And the Ratcatcher repeated, “I feel no guilt or sin.” The road was clear and so was its end. Was it no longer necessary to jump into the abyss in order to reach Eden?

Your desires have been futile! Your love has been futile! Your dreams have been futile! What fruits has your labor brought you? What are the limits of your abilities?

Dyk suggests in The Ratcatcher that the inability to reconcile proud idealism with base reality leads through skepticism to despair.