Part 3

Then he abandoned himself, the poor boy, to his sorrow, and weeping, Weeping aloud on his kind mother's breast, he brokenly answered: "Truly my father's words to-day have wounded me sorely,-- Words which I have not deserved; not to-day, nor at any time have I: For it was early my greatest delight to honor my parents. No one knew more, so I deemed, or was wiser than those who begot me, And had with strictness ruled throughout the dark season of childhood. Many the things, in truth, I with patience endured from my playmates, When the good-will that I bore them they often requited with malice. Often I suffered their flings and their blows to pass unresented; But if they ventured to ridicule father, when he of a Sunday Home from Church would come, with his solemn and dignified bearing; If they made fun of his cap-string, or laughed at the flowers of the wrapper He with such stateliness wore, which was given away but this morning,-- Threateningly doubled my fist in an instant; with furious passion Fell I upon them, and struck out and hit, assailing them blindly, Seeing not where. They howled as the blood gushed out from their noses: Scarcely they made their escape from my passionate kicking and beating. Then, as I older grew, I had much to endure from my father; Violent words he oft vented on me, instead of on others, When, at the board's last session, the council had roused his displeasure, And I was made to atone for the quarrels and wiles of his colleagues. Thou has pitied me often thyself; for much did I suffer, Ever remembering with cordial respect the kindness of parents, Solely intent on increasing for us their goods and possessions, Much denying themselves in order to save for their children. But, alas! saving alone, for the sake of a tardy enjoyment,-- That is not happiness: pile upon pile, and acre on acre, Make us not happy, no matter how fair our estates may be rounded. For the father grows old, and with him will grow old the children, Losing the joy of the day, and bearing the care of tomorrow. Look thou below, and see how before us in glory are lying, Fair and abundant, the corn-fields; beneath them, the vineyard and garden; Yonder the stables and barns; our beautiful line of possessions. But when I look at the dwelling behind, where up in the gable We can distinguish the window that marks my room in the attic; When I look back, and remember how many a night from that window I for the moon have watched; for the sun, how many a morning! When the healthful sleep of a few short hours sufficed me,-- Ah, so lonely they seem to me then, the chamber and courtyard, Garden and glorious field, away o'er the hill that is stretching; All so desert before me lie: 'tis the wife that is wanting."

Thereupon spoke the good mother, and thus with intelligence answered: "Son, not greater thy wish to bring thee a bride to thy chamber, That thou mayst find thy nights a beautiful part of existence, And that the work of the day may gain independence and freedom, Than is thy father's wish too, and thy mother's. We always have counselled,-- Yea, we have even insisted,--that thou shouldst select thee a maiden. But I was ever aware, and now my heart gives me assurance, That till the hour appointed is come, and the maiden appointed Shall with the hour appear, the choice will be left for the future, While more strong than all else will be fear of grasping the wrong one. If I may say it, my son, I believe thou already hast chosen; For thy heart has been touched, and been made more than wontedly tender. Speak it out honestly, then; for my soul has told me beforehand: That same maiden it is, the exile, whom thou hast elected."

"Thou has said, mother!" the son thereupon with eagerness answered. "Yes, it is she; and if I to-day as my bride do not bring her Home to our dwelling, she from me will go, perhaps vanish for ever, Lost in the war's confusion and sad movings hither and thither. Mother, for ever in vain would then our abundant possessions Prosper before me, and seasons to come be in vain to me fruitful. Yea, I should hold in aversion the wonted house and the garden: Even my mother's love, alas! would not comfort my sorrow. Every tie, so I feel in my heart, by love is unloosened Soon as she fastens her own; and not the maid is it only Leaves behind father and mother, to follow the man she has chosen. He too, the youth, no longer knows aught of mother and father, When he the maiden, his only beloved, sees vanishing from him. Suffer me, then, to go hence wherever despair shall impel me: Since by my father himself the decisive words have been spoken; Since his house can no longer be mine if he shut out the maiden, Her whom alone as my bride I desire to bring to our dwelling."

Thereupon quickly made answer the good and intelligent mother: "How like to rocks, forsooth, two men will stand facing each other! Proud and not to be moved, will neither draw near to his fellow; Neither will stir his tongue to utter the first word of kindness. Therefore I tell thee, my son, a hope yet lives in my bosom, So she be honest and good, thy father will let thee espouse her, Even though poor, and against a poor girl so decisive his sentence. Many a thing he is wont to speak out in his violent fashion Which he yet never performs; and so what he denies will consent to. Yet he requires a kindly word, and is right to require it: He is the father! Besides we know that his wrath after dinner,-- When he most hastily speaks, and questions all others' opinions,-- Signifies naught; the full force of his violent will is excited Then by the wine, which lets him not heed the language of others; None but himself does he see and feel. But now is come evening, Talk upon various subjects has passed between him and his neighbors. Gentle, he is; I am sure now his little excitement is over, And he can feel how unjust his passion has made him to others. Come, let us venture at once: success is alone to the valiant! Further we need the friends, still sitting together there with him; And in especial the worthy pastor will give us assistance."

Thus she hastily spoke, and up from the stone then arising, Drew from his seat her son, who willingly followed. In silence Both descended the hill, their important purpose revolving.

POLYHYMNIA

THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD

HERE the three men, however, still sat conversing together, With mine host of the Lion, the village doctor, and pastor; And their talk was still on the same unvarying subject, Turning it this way and that, and viewing from every direction. But with his sober judgment the excellent pastor made answer: "Here will I not contradict you. I know that man should be always Striving for that which is better; indeed, as we see, he is reaching Always after the higher, at least some novelty craving. But be careful ye go not too far, for with this disposition Nature has given us pleasure in holding to what is familiar; Taught us in that to delight to which we have long been accustomed. Every condition is good that is founded on reason and nature. Many are man's desires, yet little it is that he needeth; Seeing the days are short and mortal destiny bounded. Ne'er would I censure the man whom a restless activity urges, Bold and industrious, over all pathways of land and of ocean, Ever untiring to roam; who takes delight in the riches, Heaping in generous abundance about himself and his children. Yet not unprized by me is the quiet citizen also, Making the noiseless round of his own inherited acres, Tilling the ground as the ever-returning seasons command him. Not with every year is the soil transfigured about him; Not in haste does the tree stretch forth, as soon as 'tis planted, Full-grown arms towards heaven and decked with plenteous blossoms. No: man has need of patience, and needful to him are also Calmness and clearness of mind, and a pure and right understanding. Few are the seeds he intrusts to earth's all-nourishing bosom; Few are the creatures he knows how to raise and bring to perfection. Centred are all his thoughts alone on that which is useful. Happy to whom by nature a mind of such temper is given, For he supports us all! And hail, to the man whose abode is Where in a town the country pursuits with the city are blended. On him lies not the pressure that painfully hampers the farmer, Nor is he carried away by the greedy ambition of cities; Where they of scanty possessions too often are given to aping, Wives and daughters especially, those who are higher and richer. Blessed be therefore thy son in his life of quiet employment; Blessed the wife, of like mind with himself, whom he one day shall choose him."

Thus he spoke; and scarce had he ended when entered the mother, Holding her son by the hand, and so led him up to her husband. "Father," she said, "how oft when we two have been chatting together, Have we rejoiced in the thought of Hermann's future espousal, When he should bring his bride to be the light of our dwelling! Over and over again the matter we pondered: this maiden Fixing upon for him first, and then that, with the gossip of parents. But that day is now come; and Heaven at last has the maiden Brought to him hither, and shown him; and now his heart has decided. Said we not always then he should have his own choice in the matter? Was it not just now thy wish that he might with lively affection Feel himself drawn to some maiden? The hour is come that we hoped for. Yes; he has felt and has chosen and come to a manly decision. That same maiden it is that met him this morning, the stranger: Say he may have her, or else, as he swears, his life shall be single."

"Give her me, father," so added the son: "my heart has elected Clear and sure; she will be to you both the noblest of daughters."

But the father was silent. Then hastily rose the good pastor, Took up the word and said: "The moment alone is decisive; Fixes the life of man, and his future destiny settles. After long taking of counsel, yet only the work of a moment Every decision must be; and the wise alone seizes the right one. Dangerous always it is comparing the one with the other When we are making our choice, and so confusing our feelings. Hermann is pure. From childhood up I have known him, and never E'en as a boy was he wont to be reaching for this and the other: What he desired was best for him too, and he held to it firmly. Be not surprised and alarmed that now has appeared of a sudden, What thou hast wished for so long. It is true that the present appearance Bears not the form of the wish, exactly as thou hadst conceived it: For our wishes oft hide from ourselves the object we wish for; Gifts come down from above in the shapes appointed by Heaven. Therefore misjudge not the maiden who now of thy dearly beloved, Good and intelligent son has been first to touch the affections: Happy to whom at once his first love's hand shall be given, And in whose heart no tenderest wish must secretly languish. Yes: his whole bearing assures me that now his fate is decided. Genuine love matures in a moment the youth into manhood; He is not easily moved; and I fear that if this be refused him, Sadly his years will go by, those years that should be the fairest,"

Straightway then in a thoughtful tone the doctor made answer, On whose tongue for a long time past the words had been trembling: "Pray let us here as before pursue the safe middle course only. Make haste slowly: that was Augustus the emperor's motto. Willingly I myself place at my well-beloved neighbor's disposal, Ready to do him what service I can with my poor understanding. Youth most especially stands in need of some one to guide it. Let me therefore go forth that I may examine the maiden, And may question the people among whom she lives and who know her. Me 'tis not easy to cheat: I know how words should be valued."

Straightway the son broke in, and with wing'ed words made he answer: "Do so, neighbor, and go and make thine inquiries; but with thee I should be glad if our minister here were joined in the errand: Two such excellent men would be irreproachable judges. O my father! believe me, she's none of those wandering maidens, Not one of those who stroll through the land in search of adventure, And who seek to ensnare inexperienced youth in their meshes. No: the hard fortunes of war, that universal destroyer, Which is convulsing the earth and has hurled from its deep foundations Many a structure already, have sent the poor girl into exile. Are not now men of high birth, the most noble, in misery roaming? Princes fly in disguise and kings are in banishment living. So alas! also is she, the best among all of her sisters, Driven an exile from home; yet, her personal sorrows forgetting, She is devoted to others; herself without help, she is helpful. Great is the want and the suffering over the earth that are spreading: Shall not some happiness, too, be begotten of all this affliction, And shall not I in the arms of my wife, my trusted companion, Look back with joy to the war, as do ye to the great conflagration?"

Outspoke the father then in a tone of decision, and answered: "Strangely thy tongue has been loosened, my son, which many a year past Seemed to have stuck in thy mouth, and only to move on compulsion! I must experience to-day, it would seem, what threatens all fathers, That the son's headstrong will the mother with readiness favors, Showing too easy indulgence; and every neighbor sides with them When there is aught to be carried against the father and husband. But I will not oppose you, thus banded together: how could I? For I already perceive here tears and defiance beforehand. Go ye therefore, inquire, in God's name, bring me the daughter. But if not so, then the boy is to think no more of the maiden."

Thus the father. The son cried out with joyful demeanor, "Ere it is evening the noblest of daughters shall hither be brought you, Such as no man with sound sense in his breast can fail to be pleased with. Happy, I venture to hope, will be also the excellent maiden. Yes; she will ever be grateful for having had father and mother Given once more in you, and such as a child most delights in. Now I will tarry no longer, but straightway harness the horses, Drive forth our friends at once on the footsteps of my beloved, Leaving them then to act for themselves, as their wisdom shall dictate, Guide myself wholly, I promise, according to what they determine, And, until I may call her my own, ne'er look on the maiden." Thus he went forth: the others meanwhile remained in discussion, Rapid and earnest, considering deeply their great undertaking.

Hermann hasted straightway to the stable, where quietly standing Found he the spirited stallions, the clean oats quickly devouring, And the well-dried hay that was cut from the richest of meadows. On them without delay the shining bits he adjusted, Hastily drew the straps through the buckles of beautiful plating, Firmly fastened then the long broad reins, and the horses Led without to the court-yard, whither the willing assistant Had with ease, by the pole, already drawn forward the carriage. Next to the whipple-tree they with care by the neatly kept traces Joined the impetuous strength of the freely travelling horses. Whip in hand took Hermann his seat and drove under the doorway. Soon as the friends straightway their commodious places had taken, Quickly the carriage rolled off, and left the pavement behind it, Left behind it the walls of the town and the fresh-whitened towers. Thus drove Hermann on till he came to the well-known causeway. Rapidly, loitering nowhere, but hastening up hill and down hill. But as he now before him perceived the spire of the village, And no longer remote the garden-girt houses were lying, Then in himself he thought that here he would rein up the horses.

Under the solemn shade of lofty linden-trees lying, Which for centuries past upon this spot had been rooted, Spread in front of the village a broad and grass-covered common, Favorite place of resort for the peasants and neighboring townsfolk. Here, at the foot of the trees, sunk deep in the ground was a well-spring; When you descended the steps, stone benches you found at the bottom, Stationed about the spring, whose pure, living waters were bubbling Ceaselessly forth, hemmed in by low walls for convenience of drawing. Hermann resolved that here he would halt, with his horses and carriage, Under the shade of the trees. He did so, and said to the others; "Here alight, my friends, and go your ways to discover Whether the maiden in truth be worthy the hand that I offer. That, she is so, I believe; naught new or strange will ye tell me. Had I to act for myself, I should go with speed to the village, Where a few words from the maiden's own lips should determine my fortune. Ye will with readiness single her out from all of the others, For there can scarcely be one that to her may be likened in bearing. But I will give you, besides, her modest attire for a token: Mark, then, the stomacher's scarlet, that sets off the arch of her bosom, Prettily laced, and the bodice of black fitting close to her figure; Neatly the edge of her kerchief is plaited into a ruffle, Which with a simple grace her chin's rounded outline encircles; Freely and lightly rises above it the head's dainty oval; And her luxuriant hair over silver bodkins is braided; Down from under her bodice, the full, blue petticoat falling, Wraps itself, when she is walking, about her neatly shaped ankles. Yet one thing will I say, and would make it my earnest petition,-- Speak not yourselves with the maiden, nor let your intent be discovered; Rather inquire of others, and hearken to what they may tell you. When ye have tidings enough to satisfy father and mother, Then return to me here, and we will consider what further. So did I plan it all out in my mind while driving you hither."

Thus he spoke. The friends thereupon went their way to the village, Where, in the houses and gardens and barns, the people were swarming; Wagons on wagons stood crowded together along the broad highway. Men for the harnessed horses and lowing cattle were caring, While the women were busy in drying their clothes on the hedges, And in the running brook the children were merrily splashing. Making their way through the pressure of wagons, of people and cattle, Went the commissioned spies, and to right and to left looked about them, If they a figure might see that answered the maiden's description; But not one of them all appeared the beautiful damsel. Denser soon grew the press. A contest arose round the wagons 'Mongst the threatening men, wherein blended the cries of the women. Rapidly then to the spot, and with dignified step, came an elder, Joined the clamoring group, and straightway the uproar was silenced, As he commanded peace, and rebuked with a fatherly sternness. "Has, then, misfortune," he cried, "not yet so bound us together, That we have finally learned to bear and forbear one another, Though each one, it may be, do not measure his share of the labor? He that is happy, forsooth, is contentious! Will sufferings never Teach you to cease from your brawls of old between brother and brother? Grudge not one to another a place on the soil of the stranger; Rather divide what ye have, as yourselves, ye would hope to find mercy."

Thus spoke the man and all became silent: restored to good humor, Peaceably then the people arranged their cattle and wagons. But when the clergyman now had heard what was said by the stranger, And had the steadfast mind of the foreign justice discovered, He to the man drew near and with words of meaning addressed him: "True it is, father, that when in prosperity people are living, Feeding themselves from the earth, which far and wide opens her bosom, And in the years and months renews the coveted blessings,-- All goes on of itself, and each himself deems the wisest, Deems the best, and so they continue abiding together, He of greatest intelligence ranking no higher than others; All that occurs, as if of itself, going quietly forward. But let disaster unsettle the usual course of existence, Tear down the buildings about us, lay waste the crops and the garden, Banish the husband and wife from their old, familiar-grown dwelling, Drive them to wander abroad through nights and days of privation,-- Then, ah then! we look round us to see what man is the wisest, And no longer in vain his glorious words will be spoken. Tell me, art thou not judge among this fugitive people, Father, who thus in an instant canst bid their passions be quiet? Thou dost appear to-day as one of those earliest leaders, Who through deserts and wanderings guided the emigrant nations. Yea, I could even believe I were speaking with Joshua or Moses."

Then with serious look the magistrate answered him, saying: "Truly our times might well be compared with all others in strangeness, Which are in history mentioned, profane or sacred tradition; For who has yesterday lived and to-day in times like the present, He has already lived years, events are so crowded together. If I look back but a little, it seems that my head must be hoary Under the burden of years, and yet my strength is still active. Well may we of this day compare ourselves unto that people Who, from the burning bush, beheld in the hour of their danger God the Lord: we also in cloud and in fire have beheld him."

Seeing the priest was inclined to speak yet more with the stranger, And was desirous of learning his story and that of his people, Privately into his ear his companion hastily whispered: "Talk with the magistrate further, and lead him to speak of the maiden. I, however, will wander in search, and as soon as I find her, Come and report to thee here." The minister nodded, assenting; And through the gardens, hedges, and barns, went the spy on his errand.

CLIO

THE AGE

Now when the foreign judge had been by the minister questioned As to his people's distress, and how long their exile had lasted, Thus made answer the man: "Of no recent date are our sorrows; Since of the gathering bitter of years our people have drunken,-- Bitterness all the more dreadful because such fair hope had been blighted. Who will pretend to deny that his heart swelled high in his bosom, And that his freer breast with purer pulses was beating; When we beheld the new sun arise in his earliest splendor, When of the rights of men we heard, which to all should be common, Were of a righteous equality told, and inspiriting freedom? Every one hoped that then he should live his own life, and the fetters, Binding the various lands, appeared their hold to be loosing,-- Fetters that had in the hand of sloth been held and self-seeking. Looked not the eyes of all nations, throughout that calamitous season, Towards the world's capital city, for so it had long been considered, And of that glorious title was now, more than ever, deserving?

"Were not the names of those men who first delivered the message, Names to compare with the highest that under the heavens are spoken? Did not, in every man, grow courage and spirit and language? And, as neighbors, we, first of all, were zealously kindled. Thereupon followed the war, and armed bodies of Frenchmen Pressed to us nearer; yet nothing but friendship they seemed to be bringing; Ay, and they brought it too; for exalted the spirit within them: They with rejoicing the festive trees of liberty planted, Promising every man what was his own, and to each his own ruling. High beat the heart of the youths, and even the aged were joyful; Gaily the dance began about the newly raised standard. Thus had they speedily won, these overmastering Frenchmen, First the spirits of men by the fire and dash of their bearing, Then the hearts of the women with irresistible graces. Even the pressure of hungry war seemed to weigh on us lightly, So before our vision did hope hang over the future, Luring our eyes abroad into newly opening pathways. Oh, how joyful the time when with her belov'ed the maiden Whirls in the dance, the longed-for day of their union awaiting! But more glorious that day on which to our vision the highest Heart of man can conceive seemed near and attainable to us. Loosened was every tongue, and men--the aged, the stripling-- Spoke aloud in words that were full of high feeling and wisdom. Soon, however, the sky was o'ercast. A corrupt generation Fought for the right of dominion, unworthy the good to establish; So that they slew one another, their new-made neighbors and brothers Held in subjection, and then sent the self-seeking masses against us. Chiefs committed excesses and wholesale plunder upon us, While those lower plundered and rioted down to the lowest: Every one seemed but to care that something be left for the morrow. Great past endurance the need, and daily grew the oppression: They were the lords of the day; there was none to hear our complaining. Then fell trouble and rage upon even the quietest spirit. One thought only had all, and swore for their wrongs to have vengeance, And for the bitter loss of their hope thus doubly deluded. Presently Fortune turned and declared on the side of the German, And with hurried marches the French retreated before us. Ah! then as never before did we feel the sad fortunes of warfare: He that is victor is great and good,--or at least he appears SO,-- And he, as one of his own, will spare the man he has conquered, Him whose service he daily needs, and whose property uses. But no law the fugitive knows, save of self-preservation, And, with a reckless greed, consumes all the possessions about him; Then are his passions also inflamed: the despair that is in him Out of his heart breaks forth, and takes shape in criminal action. Nothing is further held sacred; but all is for plunder. His craving Turns in fury on woman, and pleasure is changed into horror. Death he sees everywhere round him, and madly enjoys his last moments,

"Taking delight in blood, in the shrieking of anguish exulting. Thereupon fiercely arose in our men the stern resolution What had been lost to avenge, and defend whate'er was remaining, Every man sprang to his arms, by the flight of the foeman encouraged, And by his blanching cheeks, and his timorous, wavering glances. Ceaselessly now rang out the clanging peal of the tocsin. Thought of no danger to come restrained their furious anger. Quick into weapons of war the husbandman's peaceful utensils All were converted; dripped with blood the scythe and the ploughshare. Quarter was shown to none: the enemy fell without mercy. Fury everywhere raged and the cowardly cunning of weakness. Ne'er may I men so carried away by injurious passion See again! the sight of the raging wild beast would be better. Let not man prattle of freedom, as if himself he could govern! Soon as the barriers are torn away, then all of the evil Seems let loose, that by law had been driven deep back into corners."

"Excellent man!" thereupon with emphasis answered the pastor: "Though thou misjudgest mankind, yet can I not censure thee for it. Evil enough, I confess, thou hast had to endure from man's passions, Yet wouldst thou look behind over this calamitous season, Thou wouldst acknowledge thyself how much good thou also hast witnessed. How many excellent things that would in the heart have hidden, Had not danger aroused them, and did not necessity's pressure Bring forth the angel in man, and make him a god of deliv'rance."

Thereupon answered and said the reverend magistrate, smiling: "There thou remindest me aptly of how we console the poor fellow, After his house has been burned, by recounting the gold and the silver Melted and scattered abroad in the rubbish, that still is remaining. Little enough, it is true; but even that little is precious. Then will the poor wretch after it dig and rejoice if he find it. Thus I likewise with happier thoughts will gratefully turn me Towards the few beautiful deeds of which I preserve the remembrance. Yes, I will not deny, I have seen old quarrels forgotten, Ill to avert from the state; I also have witnessed how friendship, Love of parent and child, can impossibilities venture; Seen how the stripling at once matured into man; how the aged Grew again young; and even the child into youth was developed, Yea, and the weaker sex too, as we are accustomed to call it, Showed itself brave and strong and ready for every emergence. Foremost among them all, one beautiful deed let me mention, Bravely performed by the hand of a girl, an excellent maiden; Who, with those younger than she, had been left in charge of a farmhouse, Since there, also, the men had marched against the invader. Suddenly fell on the house a fugitive band of marauders, Eager for booty, who crowded straightway to the room of the women.