German Fiction

"Accepted!" they shouted. The cup began to go the round and new merriment rejuvenated the old men, who had now been in good spirits since dawn. The evening sun streamed in under the countless beams of the hall and gilded thousands of faces already transfigured with pleasure, while the resounding tones of the orchestra filled the room. Hermine sat in the shadow of her father's broad shoulders, as modest and quiet, as if she couldn't count three. But golden lights from the sun, falling across the cup before her and flashing on its golden lining and the wine, played about her rosy and glowing face and danced with every movement of the wine when the old men in the heat of discussion pounded on the table; and then one could not tell whether she herself was smiling or only the playing lights. She was now so beautiful that young men, looking about the hall, soon discovered her. Merry groups settled themselves near her in order to keep her in sight and people asked one another: "Where is she from? Who is the old man? Doesn't anyone know him?" "She's from St. Gallen; they say she's a Thurgovian," answered one. "No, all the people at that table are from Zurich," said another. Wherever she looked, merry young fellows raised their hats in respectful admiration and she smiled modestly and without affectation. But when a long procession of young men passed the table and all took off their hats she had to cast down her eyes, and still more when a handsome student from Berne suddenly appeared beside her, cap in hand, and with courteous audacity said that he had been sent by thirty friends who were sitting at the fourth table from there, to inform her, with her father's permission, that she was the most charming girl in the hall. In short, everyone did regular homage to her, the sails of the old men swelled with new triumph, and Karl's fame was almost obscured by Hermine's. But he too was to come to the front once more.

For a stir and a crush arose in the middle aisle caused by two cowherds from Entlibuch who were pushing their way through the throng. They were regular bumpkins with short pipes in their mouths, their Sunday jackets under their brawny arms, little straw hats on their big heads and shirts fastened together across their chests with silver buckles in the shape of hearts. The one who went ahead was a clodhopper of fifty and rather tipsy and unruly; for he wanted to try feats of strength with every man he saw and kept trying to hook his clumsy fingers into everything, at the same time blinking pleasantly, or at times challenging, with his little eyes. So his advance was everywhere marked by offense and confusion. Directly behind him, however, came the second, a still more uncouth customer of eighty, with a shock of short yellow curls, and he was the father of the fifty-year-old. He guided his precious son with an iron hand, without ever letting his pipe go out, by saying from time to time:

"Laddie, keep quiet! Orderly, laddie, orderly!" and at the same time pushing and pulling him in accordance with his words. So he steered him with able hand through the angry sea until, just as they reached the table of the Seven, a dangerous stoppage occurred, as a group of peasants came up who wanted to call the quarrelsome fellow to account and attack him from both sides. Fearing that his laddie might do some fiendish damage, the father looked about for a place of refuge and saw the old men. "He'll be quiet among these old baldpates," he growled to himself, grasped his son with one fist in the small of his back and steered him in between the benches, while with the other he fanned the air behind him to keep off the irritated pursuers, for several of them had already been properly pinched, in all haste.

"With your permission, gentlemen," said the octogenarian to the younger old men, "let me sit down here a minute so that I can give my laddie another glass of wine. Then he will grow sleepy and be as quiet as a little lamb."

So he wedged himself into the party with his offspring, and the son really did look about him meekly and respectfully. But presently he said:

"I want to drink out of the little silver mug over there."

"Will you be quiet, or I'll knock the senses out of you before you can turn round," said his father. But when Hediger pushed the full cup towards him he said: "Well, then, if the gentlemen will allow it, take a drink, but don't guzzle it all."

"That's a lively youngster you've got there, my good man," said Frymann, "how old is he?"

"Oh," replied the father "around New Year's he'll be about fifty-two; at least he was screaming in his cradle in 1798 when the French came, drove away my cows and burnt my house. But because I took a couple of them and knocked their heads together, I had to fly, and my wife died of misery in the meantime. That's why I have to bring up my boy alone."

"Didn't you get a wife for him who could have helped you?"

"No, he's still too clumsy and wild; it won't do, he smashes everything to pieces."

In the meantime the youthful ne'er-do-well had drained the fragrant cup. He filled his pipe and looked round the circle blinking most happily and peacefully. Thus he discovered Hermine and the womanly beauty that radiated from her suddenly rekindled ambition in his heart and the desire to show his strength. As his eye fell simultaneously on Karl who was sitting opposite him, he invitingly stretched out his crooked middle finger across the table.

"Stop that, Sonny! Has Satan got into you again?" cried his father wrathfully, and was about to take him by the collar, but Karl told him to let the other be and hooked his middle finger into that of the young bear and then they tried, each to pull the other over to him.

"If you hurt the young gentleman or sprain his finger," warned the old father, "I'll take you by the ears so that you'll feel it for three weeks."

The two hands now wavered for a considerable time over the centre of the table; Karl soon ceased laughing and grew crimson in the face, but at last he gradually drew the arm and shoulder of his opponent perceptibly towards his side of the table and with that the victory was won.

The man from Entlibuch looked at him quite bewildered and downcast, but not for long; his old father, now enraged at his defeat, boxed his ears, and much ashamed he looked at Hermine; then he suddenly began to cry and said, sobbingly:

"And now at least I want a wife!"

"Come, come," said his papa, "you're ready for bed now." He grasped him by the arm and marched him off.

After the departure of this odd pair, a silence fell on the old men and they wondered anew at Karl's deeds and achievements.

"That's entirely due to gymnastics," he said modestly; "they give you training, strength, and knack for such things and almost anyone can learn to do them who is not a born weakling."

"That is true," said Hediger, his father, and, after some reflection he continued enthusiastically: "Therefore let us forever and ever praise the new era which is again beginning to train men to be men and which commands not only the country gentleman and the mountain herdsman but the tailor's son as well to train his limbs and develop his body so that it can do something."

"That is true," said Frymann also awaking from meditation, "and we too have all taken part in the struggle to bring on this new era. And to-day, as far as our old heads are concerned, we, with our little banner, are celebrating the final result, the command 'Cease firing!' and the rest we leave to the young ones. But now, no one has ever been able to say of us that we stuck obstinately to our errors and misunderstandings. On the contrary, we have always striven to keep our minds open to all that was rational, true, and beautiful; and so I herewith frankly and openly take back my declaration in regard to the children and invite you, Friend Kaspar, to do the same. For what better memorial of this day could we found, plant, and establish than a living line, springing directly from the loins of our friendship, a family whose children will preserve and transmit the principles and the unswerving faith of the Upright Seven? Well then, let Bürgi bring his canopy-bed that we may equip it. I will lay in it grace and womanly purity; you, strength, resolution and skill, and with that, forward with the waving green banner, because they are young. It shall be left to them and they shall keep it after we are gone. So do not resist longer, old Hediger, but give me your hand as my kinsman."

"Accepted," said Hediger solemnly, "but on the condition that you don't give the boy any money to spend on foolishness and heartless ostentation. For the devil goeth about seeking whom he may devour."

"Accepted," cried Frymann, and Hediger continued:

"Then I greet you as my kinsman, and the Swiss blood may be tapped for the wedding."

All the Seven now rose and Hermine's hand was laid in Karl's amid great jubilation.

"Good luck! There's a betrothal, that's the way it ought to be!" cried some of those sitting near, and at once a throng of people came up to clink glasses with the young couple. As if by arrangement the orchestra struck up, but Hermine managed to slip out of the crowd without letting go of Karl's hand, and he led her out of the hall to the festival grounds where already nocturnal silence reigned. They walked round the fortress of flags and as no one was near they stood still. The flags waved with animation and whispered together but they could not discover the little banner of friendship, for it had disappeared in the folds of a huge neighbor and was well taken care of. But overhead in the starlight the Swiss flag snapped in its constant solitude and the sound of the bunting could plainly be heard. Hermine put her arms round her betrothed's neck, kissed him of her own accord, and said tenderly and with emotion:

"But now we must see that we order our life aright. May we live just as long as we are good and competent, and not a day longer!"

"Then I hope to live long, for I feel that life will be good with you," said Karl and kissed her again; "but what do you think now about who shall rule? Do you really want to hold the reins?"

"As tight as I can. In the meantime, law and a constitution will surely develop between us and it will be a good one whatever it is."

"And I will guarantee the constitution and claim the first chance to be godfather," suddenly rang out a strong bass voice.

Hermine craned her neck and seized Karl's hand; but he went nearer and saw one of the sentries of the Aargau sharpshooters standing in the shadow of a pillar. The metal on his equipment gleamed in the dark. Now the two young men recognized each other and the sentry was a tall, fine-looking fellow, the son of a peasant. Karl and Hermine sat down on the steps at his feet and chatted with him for a good half hour before they returned to their party.

THE RIDER ON THE WHITE HORSE

BY

THEODOR STORM

TRANSLATED BY

MARGARETE MÜNSTERBERG

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Hans Theodor Woldsen Storm, usually known as Theodor Storm, was born in the small coast town of Husum in Schleswig-Holstein on September 14, 1817. His father was an attorney whose family had for generations been tenants of the old mill in Westermühler, and his mother's family were of the local aristocracy. Influences from his ancestry on both sides and from the country in which he was brought up played an important part in the formation of his sentiments and character.

Storm was educated at schools in Husum and Lübeck, and studied law at Kiel and Berlin. At Kiel he formed a friendship with the historian Theodor Mommsen and his brother Tycho, and the three published together in 1843 "Songs by Three Friends." In spite of his interest in literature, Storm went on with his legal career, and began practice in his native town. There in 1846 he married his cousin Konstanze Esmarch, and settled down to a happy domestic life.

When Storm was born, Schleswig and Holstein were independent duchies, ruled by the king of Denmark; but when they were forcibly incorporated into the kingdom of Denmark, Storm, who was a strong German in sentiment, felt forced to leave his home, and in 1853 became assistant judge in the circuit court in Potsdam. The bureaucratic society of the Prussian town was uncongenial, and three years later he was glad to be transferred to Heiligenstadt in Thuringia. In 1864 Schleswig-Holstein was conquered by Prussia, and though Storm was disappointed that it did not regain its independence, it was at least once more German, and he returned to Husum as "Landvogt," or district magistrate, in 1865, and lived there till 1880. The last eight years of his life he spent at a country house in the neighboring village of Hademarschen, where he died July 4, 1888. Konstanze had died in 1865, and he married as his second wife Dorothea Jensen. Both marriages brought him much happiness.

Storm began his literary career as a lyric poet, and his work in this field gives him a high place among the best in a kind in which German literature is very rich. His story writing began with "Immensee" (1849), perhaps his best known work. His early prose shared some of the quality of his poetry in that it sought rather to convey a mood than describe action; but, as his talent matured, incident and character stood out more and more distinctly.

The progress can be traced from "Immensee" through "At the Castle" and "At the University" to the objective narrative of "In the Village on the Heath" and "At Cousin Christian's." In "Eekenhof" and "Hans and Heinz Kirsch" he is frankly realistic, and the complete evolution from his early subjectivity is seen in the dramatic depicting of human struggles in "The Sons of the Senator," "Renate," and, last and greatest of his works, "The Rider on the White Horse."

In this masterpiece, Storm exhibits a man's will in conflict, on one side, with unintelligent conservatism among his fellowmen and, on the other, with the forces of nature. The figure of the dike-master emerges from the double struggle with a fine impressiveness; and the tragedy which finally engulfs him and his family is profoundly moving. At the same time we are given a vivid picture of the landscape of the low-lying coast of the North Sea, with the ever-present menace of the flood tide; and the sternness of the action is tempered with glimpses of humor and a picture of warm affection. Here Storm's art reached a pitch which places him beside the masters of the short novel.

    W. A. N.

CRITICISM AND INTERPRETATION

By Adolf Stern

Within his special North German world, Storm's view extends back through the decades and centuries. It reaches also, from the humblest classes of the people, whose solidity and peculiar virtues he understands as well as anyone, up to the circles of the most liberal and profound culture. But the class that stands out most conspicuously is the bourgeoisie, with their moderate means and their traditional eagerness to assure to their children circumstances as good as their own or better; among them his novels are usually laid; and among them he finds his richest and most original characters. All these people are deeply rooted in the soil of the family, of the home in the narrower sense; with all of them the memories of childhood, the earliest surroundings, play a more important part than would be the case with people of the same type of mind and the same social position from another region. With all of them a conservative element is predominant, which makes itself felt in all their doings, their way of seeing things, their habits. Men and women appear to be in the peculiar bondage of a convention more formal than severe; they seem possessed by a feeling of responsibility towards a conception of life which dominates them, a conception which does not, to be sure, exclude free will, a noble passion or warm affection, but which recognizes such and admits them to their world only under special conditions, watchfully, carefully, and with reserve. They are more dependent on the opinion of their environment than the more careless and indifferent children of other stocks. But though all the characters which Storm likes to portray are wonderfully and apparently inextricably overgrown with tradition and custom, yet they are, on the other hand, strong individualities, independent to the point of stubbornness, and fully conscious of their right to their own inner life. In these natures so honestly sober, testing and weighing so sensibly, living in such well-established order, there reigns secretly a powerful imagination, a longing and a determination to win, each for himself, a piece of life after his heart's desire. They are all ready under certain circumstances to enter into the sharpest conflict, even into the most irreconcilable struggle with all the conventions, as soon as they feel their inmost being seized by such a yearning. They have little inclination to yield to their imaginations in the things of everyday life, or to urge their desires beyond the usual. But sometimes in decisive moments they are carried away, they become conscious of the ardor and at the same time of the strength of their hearts, for once they must follow the call of their feelings which tells them they are free and have to work out their own salvation. It is among such natures that there is scope for the strong and deep passion of love, for that faithful affection that gives no outward sign-we stand on the shore whence rose the song of Gudrun in the gray days of old.

Of course, not every one of these peculiar and silent characters is victorious in the strife with the hard, stubborn, conventional world, nor does their struggle for their highest good always lead to a tragic ending. Storm's eye rests too serenely and securely on the object; he is an artist filled with too deep a sympathy with life to deceive himself sentimentally about the fatal chain of human destiny, about guilt and error, about the secret relation between weakness and its results in life, about the places in the way which we cannot pass. He is a better, even a keener, realist than many who call themselves by that name, and has looked deeper into the eye of Nature than those who imagine that their microscope has laid bare to them every eyelid of the eternal mother. – From "Studien zur Litteratur der Gegenwart" (1895).

THE RIDER ON THE WHITE HORSE