Men are not always what they seem.--LESSING.
Our tale is no creation of fancy; it is the reality in which welive; bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh. Our own time andthe men of our own age we shall see. But not alone will we occupyourselves with every-day life, with the moss on the surface; thewhole tree, from the roots to the fragrant leaves, will we observe.The heavy earth shall press the roots, the moss and bark of every-daylife adhere to the stern, the strong boughs with flowers and leavesspread themselves out, whilst the sun of poetry shall shine amongthem, and show the colors, odor, and singing-birds. But the tree ofreality cannot shoot up so soon as that of fancy, like the enchantmentin Tieck's "Elves." We must seek our type in nature. Often maythere be an appearance of cessation; but that is not the case. Itis even so with our story; whilst our characters, by mutual discourse,make themselves worthy of contemplation, there arises, as with theindividual branches of the tree, an unseen connection. The branchwhich shoots high up in the air, as though it would separate itselffrom the mother-stem, only presses forward to form the crown, to lenduniformity to the whole tree. The lines which diverge from the generalcentre are precisely those which produce the harmony.
We shall, therefore, soon see, though these scenes out of every-daylife are no digression from the principal events, nothingepisodical which one may pass over. In order still sooner to arriveat a clear perception of this assertion, we will yet tarry a fewmoments in the house of Mr. Berger, the merchant; but in the meantime we have advanced three weeks. Wilhelm and Otto had happilypassed their examen philosophicum. The latter had paid severalvisits, and was already regarded as an old friend of the family.The lover already addressed him with his droll "Good day, Mr.Petersen;" and Grethe was witty about his melancholy glance, whichhe was not always able to conquer. She called it "making faces,"and besought him to appear so on the day of her funeral.
The object of the five sisters' first Platonic love had been theirbrother. They had overwhelmed him with caresses and tenderness, hadadmired and worshipped him. "The dear little man!" they called him;they had no other. But Hans Peter was so impolite and teasingtoward the dear sisters, that they were found to resign him so soonas one of them had a lover. Upon this lover they all clung. Eachone seemed to have a piece of him. He was Grethe's bridegroom,would be their brother-in-law. They might address him with theconfidential thou, and even give him a little kiss.
Otto's appearance in the family caused these rays to change theirdirection. Otto was handsome, and possessed of fortune; either ofwhich often suffices to bow a female heart. Beauty bribes thethoughtless; riches, the prudent.
Maren, or as she was here called, Maja, had arrived. The youngladies had already pulled off some of her bows, arranged her hairdifferently, and made one of her silk handkerchiefs into an apron;but, spite of all this finesse, she still remained the lady fromLemvig. They could remove no bows from her pronunciation. She hadbeen the first at home; here she could not take that rank. Thisevening she was to see in the theatre, for the first time, theballet of the "Somnambule."
"It is French!" said Hans Peter; "and frivolous, like everythingthat we have from them."
"Yes, the scene in the second act, where she steps out of thewindow," said the merchant; "that is very instructive for youth!"
"But the last act is sweet!" cried the lady. "The second act iscertainly, as Hans Peter very justly observed, somewhat French.Good heavens! he gets quite red, the sweet lad!" She extended herhand to him, and nodded, smiling, whereupon Hans Peter spoke veryprettily about the immorality on the stage. The father also madesome striking observation.
"Yes," said the lady, "were all husbands like thee, and all youngmen like Hans Peter, they would speak in another tone on the stage,and dress in another manner. In dancing it is abominable; thedresses are so short and indecent, just as though they had nothingon! Yet, after all, we must say that the 'Somnambule' is beautiful.And, really, it is quite innocent!"
They now entered still deeper into the moral: the conversationlasted till coffee came.
Maren's heart beat even quicker, partly in expectation of the play,through hearing of the corruptions of this Copenhagen Sodom. Sheheard Otto defend this French piece; heard him speak ofaffectation. Was he then corrupted? How gladly would she have heardhim discourse upon propriety, as Hans Peter had done. "Poor Otto!"thought she; "this is having no relations, but being forced tostruggle on in the world alone."
The merchant now rose. He could not go to the theatre. First, hehad business to attend to; and then he must go to his club, wherehe had yesterday changed his hat.
"Nay, then, it has happened to thee as to Hans Peter!" said thelady. "Yesterday, in the lecture-room, he also got a strange hat.But, there, thou hast his hat!" she suddenly exclaimed, as her eyefell upon the hat which her husband held in his hand. "That is HansPeter's hat! Now, we shall certainly find that he has thine! Youhave exchanged them here at home. You do not know each other'shats, and therefore you fancy this occurred from home."
One of the sisters now brought the hat which Hans Peter had got inmistake. Yes, it was certainly the father's. Thus an exchange inthe house, a little intermezzo, which naturally, from itsinsignificance, was momentarily forgotten by all except the partiesconcerned, for to them it was an important moment in their lives;and to us also, as we shall see, an event of importance, which hasoccasioned us to linger thus long in this circle. In an adjoiningroom will we, unseen spirits, watch the father and son. They arealone; the family is already in the theatre. We may, indeed, watchthem--they are true moralists. It is only a moral drawn from a hat.
But the father's eyes rolled, his cheeks glowed, his words weresword-strokes, and must make an impression on any disposition asgentle as his son's; but the son stood quiet, with a firm look andwith a smile on his lips, such as the moral bestows. "You were inthe adjoining room!" said he. "Where it is proper for you to bethere may I also come."
"Boy!" cried the father, and named the place, but we know it not;neither know we its inhabitants. Victor Hugo includes them in his"Children's Prayer," in his beautiful poem, "La Pri鑢e pour Tous."The child prays for all, even "for those who sell the sweet name oflove."
[Note: "Prie! ...Pour les femmes 閏hevel閑sQui vendent le doux nom d'amour!"]
"Let us be silent with each other!" said the son. "I am acquaintedwith many histories. I know another of the pretty Eva!"--
"Eva!" repeated the father.
We will hear no more! It is not proper to listen. We see the fatherand son extend their hands. It appeared a scene of reconciliation.They parted: the father goes to his business, and Hans Peter to thetheatre, to anger himself over the immorality in the second act ofthe "Somnambule."