The Poems of Goethe by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (ebook reader with highlight function txt) 📖

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 assistance 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 pass 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 fashion our children after our fancy. We must have them and love them, as God 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 fashion 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."

Then she left the apartment, and after her son hasten'd quickly, Hoping somewhere to find him, and with her words of affection Gladden his heart, for he, the excellent son, well deserved it. Smilingly, when she had closed the door, continued the father "What a wonderful race of people are women and children. All of them fain would do whatever pleases their fancy, And we're only alow'd to praise them and flatter them freely. Once for all there's truth in the ancient proverb which tells us: He who moves not forward, goes backward! a capital saying!"

Speaking with much circumspection, the druggist made answer as follows "What you say, good neighbour, is certainly true, and my plan is Always to think of improvement, provided tho' new, 'tis not costly. But what avails it in truth, unless one has plenty of money, Active and fussy to he, improving both inside and outside? Sadly confined are the means of a burgher; e'en when he knows it, Little that's good he is able to do, his purse is too narrow, And the sum wanted too great; and so he is always prevented. I have had plenty of schemes! but then I was terribly frighten'd At the expense, especially during a time of such danger. Long had my house smiled upon me, decked out in modish exterior, Long had my windows with large panes of glass resplendently glitterd. Who can compete with a merchant, however, who, rolling in riches, Also knows the manner in which what is best can be purchased? Only look at the house up yonder, the new one: how handsome Looks the stucco of those white scrolls on the green-colour'd panels! Large are the plates of the windows--how shining and brilliant the panes are, Quite eclipsing the rest of the houses that stand in the market! Yet at the time of the fire, our two were by far the most handsome, Mine at the sign of the Angel, and yours at the old Golden Lion. Then my garden was famous throughout the whole country, and strangers Used to stop as they pass'd and peep through my red-colourd palings At my beggars of stone, and at my dwarfs, which were painted, He to whom I gave coffee inside my beautiful grotto, Which, alas! is now cover'd with dust and tumbling to pieces, Used to rejoice in the colour'd glimmering light of the mussels, Ranged in natural order around it, and connoisseurs even Used with dazzled eyes to gaze at the spars and the coral. Then, in the drawing-room, people look'd with delight on the painting, Where the prim ladies and gentlemen walked in the garden demurely, And with pointed fingers presented the flowers, and held them. Ah, if only such things were now to be seen! Little care I Now to go out; for everything needs to be alter'd and tasteful, As it is call'd; and white are the benches of wood and the palings; All things are simple and plain; and neither carving not gilding Now are employ'd, and foreign timber is now all the fashion. I should be only too pleased to possess some novelty also, So as to march with the times, and my household furniture alter. But we all are afraid to make the least alteration, For who is able to pay the present charges of workmen? Lately a fancy possess'd me, the angel Michael, whose figure Hangs up over my shop, to treat to a new coat of gilding, And the terrible Dragon, who round his feet is entwining; But I have left him all brown; as he is; for the cost quite alarm'd me."

IV. EUTERPE.

MOTHER AND SON.

THUS the men discoursed together; and meanwhile the mother Went in search of her son,--at first in front of the dwelling On the bench of stone, for he was accustom'd to sit there. When she found him not there, she went to look in the stable, Thinking perchance he was feeding his splendid horses, the stallions Which he had bought when foals, and which he entrusted to no one. But the servant inform'd her that he had gone to the garden. Then she nimbly strode across the long double courtyard, Left the stables behind, and the barns all made of good timber, Enter'd the garden which stretch'd far away to the walls of the borough, Walk'd across it, rejoicing to see how all things were growing, Carefully straighten'd the props, on which the apple-tree's branches, Heavily loaded, reposed, and the weighty boughs of the pear-tree, Took a few caterpillars from off the strong-sprouting cabbage; For a bustling woman is never idle one moment. In this manner she came to the end of the long-reaching garden, Where was the arbour all cover'd with woodbine: she found not her son there, Nor was he to be seen in any part of the garden. But she found on the latch the door which out of the arbour Through the wall of the town had been made by special permission During their ancestor's time, the worthy old burgomaster. So she easily stepp'd across the dry ditch at the spot where On the highway abutted their well-inclosed excellent vineyard. Rising steeply upwards, its face tow'rd the sun turn'd