The Poems of Goethe Part 114

I could more easily now than before determine to marry Many an excellent maiden needs a husband's protection, Many a man a cheerful wife, when sorrow's before him."

Smilingly said then the father:--"I'm pleas'd to hear what you're saying, Words of such wisdom have seldom been utter'd by you in my presence.

Then his good mother broke in, in her turn, with vivacity speaking "Son, you are certainly right. We parents set the example.

'Twas not in time of pleasure that we made choice of each other, And 'twas the saddest of hours, that knitted us closely together.

Monday morning,--how well I remember! the very day after That most terrible fire occurr'd which burnt down the borough, Twenty years ago now; the day, like to-day, was a Sunday, Hot and dry was the weather, and little available water.

All the inhabitants, clothed in their festival garments, were walking, Scatter'd about in the inns and the mills of the neighbouring hamlets.

At one end of the town the fire broke out, and the flames ran Hastily all through the streets, impell'd by the draught they created.

And the barns were consumed, where all the rich harvest was gather'd And all the streets as far as the market; the dwelling house also Of my father hard by was destroy'd, as likewise was this one.

Little indeed could we save; I sat the sorrowful night through On the green of the town, protecting the beds and the boxes.

Finally sleep overtook me, and when by the cool breeze of morning Which dies away when the sun arises I was awaken'd, Saw I the smoke and the glow, and the half-consumed walls and the chimneys.

Then my heart was sorely afflicted; but soon in his glory Rose the sun more brilliant than ever, my spirits reviving.

Then in haste I arose, impell'd the site to revisit Where our dwelling had stood, to see if the chickens were living Which I especially loved; for childlike I still was by nature.

But when over the ruins of courtyard and house I was climbing, Which still smoked, and saw my dwelling destroy'd and deserted, You came up on the other side, the ruins exploring.

You had a horse shut up in his stall; the still-glowing rafters Over it lay, and rubbish, and nought could be seen of the creature.

Over against each other we stood, in doubt and in sorrow, For the wall had fallen which used to sever our courtyards; And you grasp'd my hand, addressing me softly as follows 'Lizzy, what here are you doing? Away! Your soles you are burning, For the rubbish is hot, and is scorching my boots which are thicker.'

Then you lifted me up, and carried me off through your courtyard.

There still stood the gateway before the house, with its arch'd roof, Just as it now is standing, the only thing left remaining.

And you sat me down and kiss'd me, and I tried to stop you, But you presently said, with kindly words full of meaning 'See, my house is destroy'd! Stop here and help me to build it, I in return will help to rebuild the house of your father.'

I understood you not, till you sent to my father your mother, And ere long our marriage fulfilid the troth we soon plighted.

Still to this day I remember with pleasure the half-consumed rafters, Still do I see the sun in all his majesty rising, For on that day I gain'd my husband; the son of my youth too Gained I during that earliest time of the wild desolation.

Therefore commend I you, Hermann, for having with confidence guileless Turn'd towards marriage your thoughts in such a period of mourning, And for daring to woo in war and over the ruins.--"

Then the father straightway replied, with eagerness speaking:-- "Sensible is your opinion, and true is also the story Which you have told us, good mother, for so did ev'rything happen.

But what is better is better. 'Tis not the fortune of all men All their life and existence to find decided beforehand; All are not doom'd to such troubles as we and others have suffer'd.

O, how happy is he whose careful father and mother Have a house ready to give him, which he can successfully manage!

All beginnings are hard, and most so the landlords profession.

Numberless things a man must have, and ev'rything daily Dearer becomes, so he needs to sc.r.a.pe together more money.

So I am hoping that you, dear Hermann, will shortly be bringing Home to us a bride possessing an excellent dowry, For a worthy husband deserves a girl who is wealthy, And 'tis a capital thing for the wish'd-for wife to bring with her Plenty of suitable articles stow'd in her baskets and boxes.

Not in vain for years does the mother prepare for her daughter Stocks of all kinds of linen, both finest and strongest in texture; Not in vain do G.o.d-parents give them presents of silver, Or the father lay by in his desk a few pieces of money.

For she hereafter will gladden, with all her goods and possessions, That happy youth who is destined from out of all others to choose her.

Yes! I know how pleasant it makes a house for a young wife, When she finds her own property placed in the rooms and the kitchen, And when she herself has cover'd the bed and the table.

Only well-to-do brides should be seen in a house, I consider, For a poor one is sure at last to be scorn'd by her husband, And he'll deem her a jade who as jade first appear'd with her bundle.

Men are always unjust, but moments of love are but transient.

Yes, my Hermann, you greatly would cheer the old age of your father If you soon would bring home a daughter-in-law to console me, Out of the neighbourhood too,--yes, out of yon dwelling, the green one!

Rich is the man, in truth his trade and his manufactures Make him daily richer, for when does a merchant not prosper?

He has only three daughters; the whole of his wealth they'll inherit.

True the eldest's already engaged; but then there's the second, And the third, who still (not for long) may be had for the asking.

Had I been in your place, I should not till this time have waited; Bring home one of the girls, as I brought your mother before you.

Then, with modesty, answer'd the son his impetuous father "Truly my wish was, like yours, to marry one of the daughters Of our neighbour. We all, in fact, were brought up together, Sported in youthful days near the fountain adjoining the market, And from the rudeness of boys I often managed to save them.

But those days have long pa.s.s'd the maidens grew up, and with reason Stop now at home and avoid the rougher pastimes of childhood.

Well brought up with a vengeance they are! To please you, I sometimes Went to visit them, just for the sake of olden acquaintance But I was never much pleased at holding intercourse with them, For they were always finding fault, and I had to bear it First my coat was too long, the cloth too coa.r.s.e, and the colour Far too common, my hair was cut and curl'd very badly.

I at last was thinking of dressing myself like the shop-boys, Who are accustom'd on Sundays to show off their persons up yonder, And round whose coats in summer half-silken tatters are hanging.

But ere long I discover'd they only intended to fool me This was very annoying, my pride was offended, but more still Felt I deeply wounded that they so mistook the good feelings Which I cherish'd towards them, especially Minnie, the youngest.

Well, I went last Easter, politely to pay them a visit, And I wore the new coat now hanging up in the closet, And was frizzled and curld, like all the rest of the youngsters.

When I enter'd, they t.i.tter'd; but that didn't very much matter.

Minnie sat at the piano, the father was present amongst them, Pleased with his daughter's singing, and quite in a jocular humour.

Little could I understand of the words in the song she was singing, But I constantly heard of Pamina, and then of Tamino,*

(* Characters In Mozart's Zauberflote.) And I fain would express my opinion; so when she had ended, I ask'd questions respecting the text, and who were the persons.

All were silent and smiled; but presently answer'd the father 'Did you e'er happen, my friend, to hear of Eve or of Adam?'

Then no longer restrain'd they themselves, the girls burst out laughing, All the boys laugh'd loudly, the old man's sides appear'd splitting.

In my confusion I let my hat fall down, and the t.i.tt'ring Lasted all the time the singing and playing continued.

Then I hasten'd home, ashamed and full of vexation, Hung up my coat in the closet, and put my hair in disorder With my fingers, and swore ne'er again to cross o'er their threshold.

And I'm sure I was right; for they are all vain and unloving.

And I hear they're so rude as to give me the nickname Tamino."

Then the mother rejoin'd:--"You're wrong, dear Hermann, to harbour Angry feelings against the children, for they are but children.

Minnie's an excellent girl, and has a tenderness for you; Lately she ask'd how you were. Indeed, I wish you would choose her!"

Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."

But the father sprang up, and said, in words full of anger "Little comfort you give me, in truth! I always have said it, When you took pleasure in horses, and cared for nothing but fieldwork; That which the servants of prosperous people perform as their duty, You yourself do; meanwhile the father his son must dispense with, Who in his honour was wont to court the rest of the townsfolk.

Thus with empty hopes your mother early deceived me, When your reading, and writing, and learning at school ne'er succeeded Like the rest of the boys, and so you were always the lowest.

This all comes from a youth not possessing a due sense of honour, And not having the spirit to try and raise his position.

Had my father but cared for me, as I have for you, sir, Sent me to school betimes, and given me proper instructors, I should not merely have been the host of the famed Golden Lion."

But the son arose, and approach'd the doorway in silence, Slowly, and making no noise: but then the father in dudgeon After him shouted:--"Be off! I know you're an obstinate fellow!

Go and look after the business; else I shall scold you severely; But don't fancy I'll ever allow you to bring home in triumph As my daughter-in-law any boorish impudent hussy.

Long have I lived in the world, and know how to manage most people, Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen, so that they leave me In good humour, and know how to flatter a stranger discreetly.

But my daughter-in-law must have useful qualities also, And be able to soften my manifold cares and vexations.

She must also play on the piano, that all the best people Here in the town may take pleasure in often coming to see us, As in the house of our neighbour the merchant happens each Sunday."

Softly the son at these words raised the latch, and left the apartment.

----- III. THALIA.

THE BURGHERS.

THUS did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation, But the father continued precisely as he had begun it What is not in a man can never come out of him, surely!

Never, I fear, shall I see fulfill'd my dearest of wishes, That my son should be unlike his father, but better.

What would be the fate of a house or a town, if its inmates Did not all take pride in preserving, renewing, improving, As we are taught by the age, and by the wisdom of strangers?

Man is not born to spring out of the ground, just like a mere mushroom, And to rot away soon in the very place that produced him!

Leaving behind him no trace of what he has done in his lifetime.

One can judge by the look of a house of the taste of its master, As on ent'ring a town, one can judge the authorities' fitness.

For where the towers and walls are falling, where in the ditches Dirt is collected, and dirt in every street is seen lying, Where the stones come out of their groove, and are not replaced there, Where the beams are rotting, and vainly the houses are waiting New supports; that town is sure to be wretchedly managed.

For where order and cleanliness reign not supreme in high places, Then to dirt and delay the citizens soon get accustom'd, Just as the beggar's accustom'd to wear his cloths full of tatters.

Therefore I often have wish'd that Hermann would start on his travels Ere he's much older, and visit at any rate Strasburg and Frankfort, And that pleasant town, Mannheim, so evenly built and so cheerful.

He who has seen such large and cleanly cities rests never Till his own native town, however small, he sees better'd.

Do not all strangers who visit us praise our well-mended gateways, And the well-whited tower, the church so neatly repair'd too?

Do not all praise our pavements? Our well-arranged cover'd-in conduits, Always well furnish'd with water, utility blending with safety, So that a fire, whenever it happens, is straightway extinguish'd,-- Is not this the result of that conflagration so dreadful?

Six times in Council I superintended the town's works, receiving Hearty thanks and a.s.sistance from every well-disposed burgher.

How I design'd, follow'd up, and ensured the completion of measures Worthy men had projected, and afterwards left all unfinish'd!

Finally, every man in the Council took pleasure in working.

All put forth their exertions, and now they have finally settled That new highway to make, which will join our town with the main road.

But I am greatly afraid that the young generation won't act thus; Some on the one hand think only of pleasure and trumpery dresses, Others wont stir out of doors, and pa.s.s all their time by the fireside, And our Hermann, I fear, will always be one of this last sort."

Forthwith to him replied the excellent sensible mother "Father, you're always unjust whenever you speak of your son, and That is the least likely way to obtain your wishes' fulfillment, For we cannot fas.h.i.+on our children after our fancy.

We must have them and love them, as G.o.d has given them to us, Bring them up for the best, and let each do as he listeth.

One has one kind of gift, another possesses another, Each one employs them, and each in turn in his separate fas.h.i.+on Good and happy becomes. My Hermann shall not be upbraided, For I know that he well deserves the wealth he'll inherit; He'll be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and peasants, And, as I clearly foresee, by no means the last in the Council.

But with your blame and reproaches, you daily dishearten him sadly, As you have done just now, and make the poor fellow unhappy."