Hermann and Dorothea Part 8

Some of the graces of life my good father covets about him, Outward signs of affection he wishes, as well as of honor; And an inferior servant might possibly give satisfaction, Who could turn these to account, while he might be displeased with a better."

Thereupon said she with joy, the while her hastening footsteps Over the darkening pathway with easy motion she quickened: "Truly I hope to them both I shall equally give satisfaction: For in thy mother's nature I find such an one as mine own is, And to the outward graces I've been from my childhood accustomed.

Greatly was courtesy valued among our neighbors the Frenchmen, During their earlier days; it was common to n.o.ble and burgher, As to the peasant, and every one made it the rule of his household.

So, on the side of us Germans, the children were likewise accustomed Daily to bring to their parents, with kissing of hands and with curtseys, Morning good-wishes, and all through the day to be prettily mannered.

Every thing thus that I learned, and to which I've been used from my childhood, All that my heart shall suggest, shall be brought into play for thy father.

But who shall tell me of thee, and how thyself shouldst be treated, Thou the only son of the house, and henceforth my master?"

Thus she said, and e'en as she spoke they stood under the pear-tree.

Down from the heavens the moon at her full was shedding her splendor.

Night had come on, and wholly obscured was the last gleam of sunlight, So that contrasting ma.s.ses lay side by side with each other, Clear and bright as the day, and black with the shadows of midnight; Gratefully fell upon Hermann's ear the kindly asked question Under the shade of the glorious tree, the spot he so treasured, Which but this morning had witnessed the tears he had shed for the exile.

And while they sat themselves down to rest them here for a little, Thus spoke the amorous youth, as he grasped the hand of the maiden: "Suffer thy heart to make answer, and follow it freely in all things."

Yet naught further he ventured to say although so propitious Seemed the hour: he feared he should only haste on a refusal.

Ah, and he felt besides the ring on her finger, sad token!

Therefore they sat there, silent and still, beside one another.

First was the maiden to speak: "How sweet is this glorious moonlight!"

Said she at length: "It is as the light of the day in its brightness.

There in the city I plainly can see the houses and courtyards, And in the gable--methinks I can number its panes-is a window."

"What thou seest," the modest youth thereupon made her answer,-- "What thou seest is our dwelling, to which I am leading thee downward, And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic, Which will be thine perhaps, for various changes are making.

All these fields, too, are ours; they are ripe for the harvest to-morrow.

Here in the shade we will rest, and partake of our noontide refreshment.

But it is time we began our descent through the vineyard and garden; For dost thou mark how yon threatening storm-cloud comes nearer and nearer, Charged with lightning, and ready our fair full moon to extinguish?"

So they arose from their seats, and over the cornfields descended, Through the luxuriant grain, enjoying the brightness of evening, Until they came to the vineyard, and so entered into its shadow.

Then he guided her down o'er the numerous blocks that were lying, Rough and unhewn on the pathway, and served as the steps of the alley.

Slowly the maiden descended, and leaning her hands on his shoulder, While with uncertain beams, the moon through the leaves overlooked them, Ere she was veiled by the cloud, and so left the couple in darkness.

Carefully Hermann's strength supported the maid that hung o'er him; But, not knowing the path and the rough-hewn steps that led down it, Missed she her footing, her ankle turned, and she surely had fallen, Had not the dexterous youth his arm outstretched in an instant, And his beloved upheld. She gently sank on his shoulder; Breast was pressed against breast, and cheek against cheek. Thus he stood there Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast, Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her pressure.

Thus he the glorious burden felt, the warmth of her bosom, And the perfume of her breath, that over his lips was exhaling; Bore with the heart of a man the majestic form of the woman.

But she with playfulness said, concealing the pain that she suffered: "That is a sign of misfortune, so timorous persons would tell us, When on approaching a house we stumble not far from the threshold; And for myself, I confess, I could wish for a happier omen.

Let us here linger awhile that thy parents may not have to blame thee, Seeing a limping maid, and thou seem an incompetent landlord."

URANIA

PROSPECT

Muses, O ye who the course of true love so willingly favor, Ye who thus far on his way the excellent youth have conducted, Even before the betrothal have pressed to his bosom the maiden; Further your aid vouchsafe this charming pair in uniting, Straightway dispersing the clouds which over their happiness lower!

Yet first of all declare what is pa.s.sing meanwhile at the Lion.

Now for the third time again the mother impatient had entered Where were a.s.sembled the men, whom anxious but now she had quitted; Spoke of the gathering storm, and the moonlight's rapid obscuring; Then of her son's late tarrying abroad and the dangers of nightfall; Sharply upbraided her friends that without having speech of the maiden, And without urging his suit, they had parted from Hermann so early.

"Make it not worse than it is," the father replied with displeasure.

"For, as thou seest, we tarry ourselves and are waiting the issue."

Calmly, however, from where he was sitting the neighbor made answer: "Never in hours of disquiet like this do I fail to be grateful Unto my late, blessed father, who every root of impatience Tore from my heart when a child, and left no fibre remaining; So that I learned on the instant to wait as do none of your sages."

"Tell us," the pastor returned, "what legerdemain he made use of."

"That will I gladly relate, for all may draw from it a lesson;"

So made the neighbor reply. "When a boy I once stood of a Sunday Full of impatience, and looking with eagerness out for the carriage Which was to carry us forth to the spring that lies under the lindens.

Still the coach came not. I ran, like a weasel, now hither, now thither, Up stairs and down, and forward and back, 'twixt the door and the window; Even my fingers itched to be moving; I scratched on the tables, Went about pounding and stamping, and hardly could keep me from weeping.

All was observed by the calm-tempered man; but at last when my folly Came to be carried too far, by the arm he quietly took me, Led me away to the window, and spoke in this serious language: 'Seest thou yonder the carpenter's shop that is closed for the Sunday?

He will re-open to-morrow, when plane and saw will be started, And will keep on through the hours of labor from morning till evening.

But consider you this,--a day will be presently coming When that man shall himself be astir and all of his workmen, Making a coffin for thee to be quickly and skilfully finished.

Then that house of boards they will busily bring over hither, Which must at last receive alike the impatient and patient, And which is destined soon with close-pressing roof to be covered.'

Straightway I saw the whole thing in my mind as if it were doing; Saw the boards fitting together, and saw the black color preparing, Sat me down patiently then, and in quiet awaited the carriage.

Now when others I see, in seasons of anxious expectance, Running distracted about, I cannot but think of the coffin."

Smiling, the pastor replied: "The affecting picture of death stands Not as a dread to the wise, and not as an end to the pious.

Those it presses again into life, and teaches to use it; These by affliction it strengthens in hope to future salvation.

Death becomes life unto both. Thy father was greatly mistaken When to a sensitive boy he death in death thus depicted.

Let us the value of n.o.bly ripe age, point out to the young man, And to the aged the youth, that in the eternal progression Both may rejoice, and life may in life thus find its completion."

But the door was now opened, and showed the majestical couple.

Filled with amaze were the friends, and amazed the affectionate parents, Seeing the form of the maid so well matched with that of her lover.

Yea, the door seemed too low to allow the tall figures to enter, As they together now appeared coming over the threshold.

Hermann, with hurried words, presented her thus to his parents: "Here is a maiden," he said; "such a one as ye wish in the household.

Kindly receive her, dear father: she merits it well; and thou, mother, Question her straightway on all that belongs to a housekeeper's duty, That ye may see how well she deserves to ye both to be nearer."

Quickly he then drew aside the excellent clergyman, saying: "Help me, O worthy sir, and speedily out of this trouble; Loosen, I pray thee, this knot, at whose untying I tremble.

Know that 'tis not as a lover that I have brought hither the maiden; But she believes that as servant she comes to the house, and I tremble Lest in displeasure she fly as soon as there's mention of marriage.

But be it straightway decided; for she no longer in error Thus shall be left, and I this suspense no longer can suffer.

Hasten and show us in this a proof of the wisdom we honor."

Towards the company then the clergyman instantly turned him; But already, alas! had the soul of the maiden been troubled, Hearing the father's speech; for he, in his sociable fas.h.i.+on, Had in these playful words, with the kindest intention addressed her: "Ay, this is well, my child! with delight I perceive that my Hermann Has the good taste of his father, who often showed his in his young days, Leading out always the fairest to dance, and bringing the fairest Finally home as his wife; our dear little mother here that was.

For by the bride that a man shall elect we can judge what himself is, Tell what the spirit is in him, and whether he feel his own value.

Nor didst thou need for thyself, I'll engage, much time for decision; For, in good sooth, methinks, he's no difficult person to follow."

Hermann had heard but in part; his limbs were inwardly trembling, And of a sudden a stillness had fallen on all of the circle.

But by these words of derision, for such she could not but deem them, Wounded, and stung to the depths of her soul, the excellent maiden, Stood, while the fugitive blood o'er her cheeks and e'en to her bosom, Poured its flush. But she governed herself, and her courage collecting, Answered the old man thus, her pain not wholly concealing: "Truly for such a reception thy son had in no wise prepared me, When he the ways of his father described, the excellent burgher.

Thou art a man of culture, I know, before whom I am standing; Dealest with every one wisely, according as suits his position; But thou hast scanty compa.s.sion, it seems, on one such as I am, Who, a poor girl, am now crossing thy threshold with purpose to serve thee; Else, with such bitter derision, thou wouldst not have made me remember How far removed my fortune from that of thyself and thy son is.

True, I come poor to thy house, and bring with me naught but my bundle Here where is every abundance to gladden the prosperous inmates.

Yet I know well myself; I feel the relations between us, Say, is it n.o.ble, with so much of mockery straightway to greet me, That I am sent from the house while my foot is scarce yet on the threshold?"

Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion.

Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden's Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation, And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion, Rather to put to the test the girl's disquieted spirit.

Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her: "Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider, When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers, All that is meant by the placing thyself 'neath the rule of a master; For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined, And but a single 'yea' compels to much patient endurance.

Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken, Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing; Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant.

But 'tis to bear with the master's caprice when he censures unjustly, Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other; Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered, And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children.

All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn.

Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply Stung by the father's jests: whereas there is nothing more common Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy."

Thus he spoke. The maiden had felt the full force of his language, And she restrained her no more; but with pa.s.sionate outburst her feelings Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom, And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer: "Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow, Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted.

Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you?