16 June 2005 | Vol. 5, No. 2

Hermann and Dorothea: 9. Urania

by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE

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 passing meanwhile at the Lion.

Now for the third time again the mother impatient had entered

Where were assembled 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 workmens

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 nobly 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 fashion,

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 compassion, 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 b