No More Learning

This to Hertha's unworldliness seems, in spite of her suspicions,
impossible; and conviction dawns upon her slowly. The study is
perfectly natural: the author has not shrunk from great frankness of
speech; but with it all he proclaims his faith in the essential good-
ness of the human heart.
As a dramatist, Sudermann has won international fame. (Ehre)
roused the German public from its apathy, and the new genius was
all-hailed as the re-creator of the German stage. Ruthlessly the play
points out the falsity of current ideas about honor, of social forms,
of conventional distinctions. Its success
was phenomenal, and the
highest hopes were cherished of a national dramatic revival. (Sodoms.
Ende' nourished these hopes, for it showed an advance both in
power and technique; but it had to be altered by the censor before
it could be produced in Berlin, and it is still impossible in English.
The title of the play is that given by the hero to a picture he is
painting. On his way to success and fame he falls into the toils of
a soulless, pleasure-loving woman, who ruins him body and soul. It
was in (Heimath, however, which was produced in January 1893,
that Sudermann reached the height of his achievement thus far, and
secured international success. The strong character of Magda, the
heroine, by whose name the play is known in English, has inspired


## p. 14166 (#356) ##########################################

14166
HERMANN SUDERMANN
the genius of three great actresses of our time,- Modjeska, Duse,
and Bernhardt, — who have spread the fame of the German drama-
tist through America, Italy, France, and England. Its theme is the
relative duty of parent and child, and the contrast between the
self-reliant broad-mindedness of a free child of the great world and
the dull petty conventions of a respectable bourgeois home. Magda
marks the highest point of characterization that Sudermann's creative
genius has reached. The (Schmetterlingsschlacht lacks, not the fine-
ness of observation, but the dramatic power, of the other plays. It is
a series of debates between three girls who have supported them-
selves by painting butterflies on fans; two of them, grown weary of
this dull life of hard-working virtue, have fallen, and with the third,
who has remained virtuous and industrious, they discuss the compar-
ative merits of their modes of living. In 1896 three of Sudermann's
one-act plays were grouped together under the general title of Mori-
turi. ' They are entirely distinct, united only by having each the
central idea of death as a liberator. In each the chief character is
freed and ennobled by death; rises above himself by the will to die.
Sudermann in 1897 finished his Johannes,' – a play which turns
upon the Biblical incident of John the Baptist, Herodias, and Salome.
Although it is entirely reverent in tone, it was forbidden by the Ber-
lin censor.
An English critic has insisted that Sudermann failed to keep the
promise of Ehre,' in that he has not continued the battle there be-
gun against the «Spiessbürgerliches » element, the Philistinism so
dear to the average German heart, against which Goethe and Schil-
ler waged a lifelong war. It may be that he has found it easier to
follow than to form the public taste; but his latest works reveal
a determination to go his independent way: and it is to Sudermann
that we unhesitatingly turn if asked to point out the chief inter-
national representative of the German drama at the end of the nine-
teenth century.
RETURNING FROM THE CONFIRMATION LESSON
From Dame Care. ) Copyright 1891, by Harper & Brothers
W**
((
(
"HEN he arrived home his mother kissed him on both cheeks,
and asked, "Well, was it nice ? »
“Quite nice,” he answered; "and mamma, Elsbeth
from the White House was there too. ”
Then she blushed with joy, and asked all sorts of things: how
she looked, whether she had grown pretty, and what she had said
to him.


## p. 14167 (#357) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14167
»
or
»
Nothing at all,” he answered, ashamed; and as his mother
looked at him surprised, he added eagerly, "but you know she is
not proud. ”
Next Monday when he entered the church, he found her
already sitting in her place. She had the Bible lying on her
knee, and was learning the verses they had been given as their
task.
There were not many children there: and when he sat down
opposite to her she made a half movement as if she meant to get
up and come over to him; but she sat down again immediately
and went on learning.
His mother had told him before he left just how to address
Elsbeth. She had charged him with many greetings for her
mother, and he was also to ask how she was. On his way he
had studied a long speech, only he was not quite decided yet
whether to address her with Du “ Sie. ” “Du” would have
been the simplest; his mother took it for granted. But the «Sie”
sounded decidedly more distinguished, --so nice and grown-up.
And as he could come to no decision, he avoided addressing her
at all. He also took out his Bible, and both put their elbows on
their knees and studied as if for a wager.
It was not of much use to him, because when the vicar ques-
tioned him afterwards he had forgotten every word of it.
A painful silence ensued; the Erdmanns laughed viciously,
and he had to sit down again, his face burning with shame. He
dared not look up any more; and when, on leaving the church,
he saw Elsbeth standing at the porch as if she was waiting for
something, he lowered his eyes and tried to pass her quickly.
However, she stepped forward and spoke to him.
“My mother has charged me — I am to ask you — how your
mother is ? »
He answered that she was well.
"And she sends her many kind regards, continued Elsbeth.
“And my mother also sends many kind regards to yours," he
answered, turning the Bible and hymn-book between his fingers;
“and I also was to ask you how she is? ”
“Mamma told me to say,” she replied, like something learned
by heart, “that she is often ill, and has to keep in-doors very
much; but now that spring is here she is better: and would you
not like to drive in our carriage as far as your house? I was to
ask you, she said. ”
(
(


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HERMANN SUDERMANN
“Just look: Meyerhofer is sweethearting! ” cried the elder
Erdmann, who had hidden behind the church door, through the
crack of which he wanted to tickle his companions with a little
straw.
Elsbeth and Paul looked at each other in surprise, for they
did not know the meaning of this phrase; but as they felt that
it must signify something very bad, they blushed and sepa-
rated.
Paul looked after her as she got into the carriage and drove
away. This time the old lady was not waiting for her. It was
her governess, he had heard. Yes: she was of such high rank
that she even had a governess of her own.
«The Erdmanns will get a good licking yet:) with that he
ended his reflections.
The next week passed without his speaking to Elsbeth. When
he entered the church, she was generally already in her seat.
Then she would nod to him kindly, but that was all.
And then came a Monday when her carriage was not waiting
for her. He noticed it at once: and as he walked towards the
church-yard he breathed more freely; for the proud coachman
with his fur cap, which he wore even in summer, always caused
him a feeling of oppression. He had only to think of this coach-
man when he sat opposite to her, and she appeared to him like
a being from another world.
To-day he ventured to nod to her almost familiarly; and it
seemed to him as if she answered more kindly than usual.
And when the lesson was ended, she came towards him of
her own accord, and said, “I must walk home to-day, for our
horses are all in the fields. Mamma thought you might walk
with me part of the way, as we go the same road. ”
He felt very happy, but did not dare to walk by her side as
long as they were in the village. He also looked back anxiously
from time to time, to see whether the two Erdmanns were lurk-
ing anywhere with their mocking remarks. But when they went
through the open fields, it was quite natural that they should
walk side by side.
It was
a sunny forenoon in June. The white sand on the
road glittered; round about, golden hawkweed was blooming, and
meadow-sweet waved in the warm wind; the midday bell sounded
from the village: no human creature was to be seen far and
wide; the heath seemed quite deserted.


## p. 14169 (#359) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14169
(
>>>
C
>>
Elsbeth wore a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head as a
protection against the sun's rays.
She took it off now, and
swung it to and fro by the elastic.
“ You will be too hot,” he said; but as she laughed at him a
little he took his off also, and threw it high in the air.
“You are quite a merry fellow,” she said, nodding approv-
ingly.
He shook his head; and the lines of care which always made
him look old appeared again upon his brow.
“ "Oh no,” he said: "merry I am certainly not. ”
“Why not? she asked.
“I have always so many things to think of,” he answered;
and if ever I want to be really happy, something always goes
wrong. ”
“But what do you always have to think about ? ” she asked.
He reflected for a while, but nothing occurred to him. “Oh,
it is all nonsense,” he said: “clever thoughts never come to me
by any means. »
And then he told her about his brothers; of the thick books,
which were quite filled with figures (the name he had forgotten),
and which they had already known by heart when they were only
as old as he was now.
« Why don't you learn that as well, if it gives you pleasure ? ”
she asked.
“But it gives me no pleasure,” he answered: "I have such a
dull head. ”
But something you know, surely ? ” she went on.
“I know absolutely nothing at all,” he replied sadly: “father
says that I am too stupid. ”
Oh, you must not heed that,” she replied consolingly.
My
Fräulein Rothmaier also finds fault with many things I do. But
I - pah, I-” she was silent, and pulled up a sorrel-plant which
she began to chew.
“Has your father still such sparkling eyes ? ” he asked.
She nodded, and her face brightened.
“ You love him very much — your father ? »
She looked at him wonderingly, as if she had not understood
his question; then answered, “Oh yes: I love him very much. ”
"And he loves you too ? ”
“Well, I should think so. ”
Now he also rooted up a sorrel-plant and sighed.
»
(
C
(


## p. 14170 (#360) ##########################################

14170
HERMANN SUDERMANN
C
»
(
(
"Why do you sigh ? ” she asked.
Something was just crossing his mind, he said; and then
asked laughingly if her father still took her on his knee some-
times, as on the day when he had been in the White House.
She laughed and said she was a big girl now, and he should
not ask such silly questions; but afterwards it came out that all
the same she still sat on her father's knee,– “Of course, not
astride any more! ” she added laughing.
“Yes, that was a nice day,” he said; and I sat on his other
knee.
How small we must have been then. "
"And we were so pitifully stupid,” she answered: when I
«
think now how you wanted to whistle, and could not! ”
“Do you remember that? ” he asked; and his eyes sparkled in
the consciousness of his present attainments in the art.
“Of course," she replied; and when you went away you
came running back and - do you still remember? »
He remembered very well.
"Now you can whistle, of course,” she laughed: (at our age
that is no longer an accomplishment, - even I can do it;” and
she pointed her lips in a very funny manner.
He was sad that she spoke so slightingly of his art, and re-
flected whether it would not be better to give up whistling alto-
gether.
“Why are you so silent ? ” she asked. "Are you tired too ? ”
“Oh no; but you - eh ? ”
Yes: the walk through the sand and the noontide heat had
tired her.
« Then come into our house and rest,” he cried with sparkling
eves; for he thought what joy his mother would feel at seeing
her.
But she refused. “Your father is not kindly disposed towards
us, mamma said; and that's why you may not come for a visit
to Helenenthal. Your father would perhaps send me away. ”
He replied with a deep blush, My father would not do that; ”
and felt much ashamed.
She cast a glance towards the Haidehof, which lay scarcely a
hundred yards from the road. The red fence shone in the sun-
shine, and even the gray half-ruined barns looked more cheerful
than usual.
“Your house looks very nice,” she said, shading her eyes with
her hand.
(
(
(C
(C


## p. 14171 (#361) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14171
(
»
“Oh yes,” he answered, his heart swelling with pride; "and
there is an owl nailed to the door of one of the sheds. But it
shall become much nicer still,” he added after a little while,
seriously, only let me begin to rule. ” And then he set to work
“
to explain to her all his plans for the future. She listened
attentively, but when he had finished she said again:
“I am tired -I must rest;” and she wanted to sit down on
the edge of the ditch,
« Not here in the blazing sun,” he cautioned her: we'll look
(
out for the first juniper-bush we can find. ”
She gave him her hand, and let him drag her wearily over
the heath, which undulated with mole-hills like the waves on a
lake; and near the edge of the wood there were some solitary
juniper-bushes, which stood out like a group of black dwarfs
above the level plain.
Under the first of these bushes she cowered down, so that its
shadow almost entirely shrouded her slight, delicate figure.
“Here is just room enough for your head,” she said, pointing
to a mole-hill which was just within range of the shade.
He stretched himself out on the grass, his head resting on the
mole-hill, his forehead covered by the hem of her dress.
She leaned back on the bush in order to find support in its
branches.
“The needles don't prick at all,” she said: they mean well
by us. I believe we could pass through the Sleeping Beauty's
hedge of thorns. ”
“You — not 1,” he answered, lifting his eyes to her from his
recumbent position: “every thorn has pricked me. I am no fairy
prince; not even a simple Hans in luck, am I ? ”
«That will all come in time,” she replied consolingly: "you
must not always have sad thoughts. ”
He wanted to reply, but he lacked the right words; and as he
looked up meditatively, a swallow fitted through the blue sky.
Then involuntarily he uttered a whistle, as if he wanted to call
it; and as it did not come, he whistled again, and for a second
and third time.
Elsbeth laughed, but he went on whistling -- first without
knowing how, and without reflecting why; but when one tone
after the other flowed from his lips, he felt as if he had become
very eloquent all of a sudden, and as if in this manner he could
say all that weighed on his heart, and for which in words he
never could have found courage. All that which made him sad,
(c


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HERMANN SUDERMANN
((
(
C
>>
all that which he cared about, came pouring forth. He shut his
eyes and listened, so to speak, to what the tones were saying for
him. He thought that the good God in heaven spoke for him,
and was relating all that concerned him, even that which he had
never been clear about himself.
When he looked up, he did not know how long he had been
lying there whistling; but he saw that Elsbeth was crying.
Why do you cry? ” he asked.
She did not answer him; but dried her eyes with her hand-
kerchief, and rose.
Silently they walked side by side for a while. When they
reached the wood, which lay thick and dark before them, she
stopped and asked :-
“Who has taught you that? ”
“Nobody,” he said: “it came to me quite naturally.
Can
you
also play the flute ? she went on.
No, he could not: he had never even heard it; he only knew
that it was the favorite pastime of Old Fritz. ”
“You must learn it,” she said.
He thought it would probably be too difficult for him.
“You shall try all the same,
» she counseled him; "you must
be an artist -- a great artist. ”
He was startled when she said that; he scarcely dared to fol-
low out her thoughts.
When they reached the other side of the wood they separated.
She went towards the White House, and he went back. When
he passed the juniper-bush where they had both been sitting, all
seemed to him like a dream; and henceforth it always remained
so to him. Two or three days elapsed before he dared to say
.
anything of his adventure to his mother, but then he could con-
tain himself no longer: he confessed everything to her.
His mother looked at him for a long time, and then went out;
but from that time she used to listen secretly, to catch if pos-
sible some notes of his whistling.
The two children often walked home together; but such an
hour as the one beneath the juniper-bush never came to them
again.
[Upon Paul, Dame Care lays more and heavier burdens with each advan-
cing year. Out of unquestioning devotion to his responsibilities, he renounces
all claims to personal happiness; and he and Eisbeth drift apart. Only when
he is brought to trial for a noble but punishable act, does she reappear as his
good angel. ]


## p. 14173 (#363) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14173
THE TRIAL
TH
,
>>
From Dame Care. ) Copyright 1891, by Harper & Brothers
VE lawyer for the defense had ended. A murmur went
through the wide court of the assizes, the galleries of
which were crammed with spectators.
If the accused did not spoil the effect of the brilliant speech
by an imprudent word, he was saved.
The president's answer resounded unheard.
And now the eye-glasses and opera-glasses began to click. All
eyes were directed to the pale, simply clad man who was sitting
in the same dock where, eight years ago, the vicious servant had
sat.
The president asked whether the accused had anything more
to add, to strengthen the proof of his innocence.
“Silence! silence! ” was murmured through the court.
But Paul rose and spoke, - first low and hesitatingly, then
every moment with greater firmness.
"I am heartily sorry that the trouble my defender has taken
to save me should have been useless; but I am not as innocent
of the deed as he represents. ”
The judges looked at each other. « What is he about? He is
going to speak against himself! »
He said: "Anxiety made me nearly unconscious. I then acted
in a kind of madness which at that moment rendered me incapa-
ble of calculation. ”
“He is cutting his own throat! ” said the audience.
"I have all my life been shy and oppressed, and have felt as
if I could look nobody in the face, though I had nothing to con-
ceal; but if this time I behave in a cowardly manner, I believe
I should be less able to do so than ever,- and this time I should
have good reason enough for it. My defender has also repre-
sented
my
former life as a pattern of all virtues. But this
was not so, either. I lacked dignity and self-possession; I passed
over too much as regards both other people and myself: and that
has always rankled in my mind, though I was never clear about
it. Too much has weighed upon me to enable me ever to
breathe freely as a man should, if he does not want to grow dull
and care-laden. This deed has made me free, and has given me
-
that which I lacked so long; it has been a great happiness to


## p. 14174 (#364) ##########################################

14174
HERMANN SUDERMANN
me: and should I be so ungrateful as to deny it to-day? No; I
will not do that. Let them imprison me as long as they like.
I shall abide my time and begin a new life.
"And so I must say I have set fire to my belongings in
full consciousness; I was never more in my senses than at the
moment when I poured the petroleum over my sheaves; and if
to-day I were to be in the same position, God knows I should do
the same again. Why should I not? What I destroyed was the
work of my own hands; I had created it after long years of
hard toil, and could do with it what I liked. I well know that
the law is of a different opinion, and therefore I shall quietly
go to prison for my time. But who else suffered by the injury
except myself ? My sisters were well provided for, and my
father” — he stopped a moment, and his voice shook as he con-
tinued — "yes, would it not have been better if my old father
had passed the last years of his life in peace and tranquillity
with one of his daughters than where I am now going ?
“Fate would not have it so. A stroke killed him; and my
brothers say that I was his murderer. But my brothers have no
right at all to judge about that: they know neither me nor my
father. All their lives they have been concerned with themselves
only, and have let me alone care for my father, mother, and sis-
ters, house and farm; and I was only good enough when they
wanted something. They turn away from me to-day; but they can
-
never be more estranged from me in the future than they have
always been in the past.
"My sisters ” — he turned towards the witness-box, where
Greta and Kate sat crying with covered faces, and his voice
grew softer as if from suppressed tears — “my sisters won't have
anything to do with me any more, but I gladly forgive them:
they are women, and made of more delicate metal; also, there
are two men standing behind them who find it very easy to be
indignant at my monstrous deed. They have all abandoned me
now; no, not all, a bright look crossed his face,– “but that
need not be mentioned here. But one thing I will say, even
though I be considered a murderer: I do not repent that my
father died through my deed; I loved him more when I killed
him than if I had let him live. He was old and weak, and what
awaited him was shame and dishonor; he lived such a quiet life,
and would have miserably dwindled away here: surely it was
better death should come to him like lightning, that kills people
»
-


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HERMANN SUDERMANN
14175
>
in the middle of their happiness. That is my opinion. I have
settled it with my conscience, and have no need to render
account to any one but to God and to myself. Now you may
condemn me. ”
“ Bravo! » cried a thundering voice in the court from the
witness-box.
It was Douglas.
His gigantic figure stood erect, his eyes sparkled beneath his
bushy brows; and when the president called him to order, he sat
down defiantly and said to his neighbor, “I can be proud of
him -eh? ”
FREED FROM DAME CARE
Tug
From (Dame Care. ) Copyright 1891, by Harper & Brothers
wo years later, on a bright morning in June, the red-painted
gate of the prison opened and let out a prisoner, who with
a laugh on his face was blinking his eyes in the bright
sun, as if trying to learn to bear the light again. He swung the
bundle which he carried to and fro, and looked carelessly to
the right and the left, like one who was not decided which direc-
tion to follow, but for whom, on the whole, it was unimportant
whither he strayed.
When he passed the front of the prison building, he saw a
carriage standing there which appeared known to him; for he
stopped and seemed to be reflecting. Then he turned to the
coachman, who in his tasseled fur cap nodded haughtily from
the box.
« Is anybody from Helenenthal here? ” he asked.
“Yes: master and the young lady. They have come to fetch
Mr. Meyerhofer. "
And directly after was heard from the steps: -
“Hey, holloa! there he is already — Elsbeth, see! there he is
already. ”
Paul jumped up the steps, and the two men lay in each
other's arms.
Then the heavy folding-doors were opened softly and timidly,
and let out a slender female figure clad in black, who, with a
melancholy smile, leaned against the wall and quietly waited
until the men unclasped each other.
(


## p. 14176 (#366) ##########################################

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HERMANN SUDERMANN
me
»)
There, you have him, Elsbeth! ” shouted the old man.
Hand in hand they stood opposite each other, and looked in
one another's eyes; then she leaned her head on his breast and
whispered, “Thank God that I am with you again! ”
"And in order that you may have each other all to yourself,
children,” said the old man, "you two shall drive home; and I
will meanwhile drink a bottle of claret to the health of my suc-
cessor. I am well off, for I retire from business this day. ”
“Mr. Douglas! ” exclaimed Paul, terrified.
"Father, I am called --- do you understand ? Let be
fetched towards evening. You are now master at home. Good-
by. ”
With that he strode down the steps.
« Come,” said Paul gently, with downcast eyes. Elsbeth went
after him with a shy smile; for now when they were alone, nei-
ther dared to approach the other.
And then they drove silently out on to the sunny, flowery
heath. Wild pinks, bluebells, and ground-ivy wove themselves
into a many-colored carpet; and the white meadow-sweet lifted
its waving blossoms, as if snowflakes had been strewn on the
flowers. The leaves of the weeping willow rustled softly, and
like a net of sparkling ribbons the little streams flowed along
beneath their branches. The warm air trembled, and yellow
butterflies Auttered up and down in couples.
Paul leaned back in the cushions, and gazed with half-shut
eyes at this profusion of charming sights.
"Are you happy? ” asked Elsbeth, leaning towards him.
"I don't know,” he answered: “it is too much for me. ”
She smiled: she well understood him.
«See there, our home! ” she said, pointing to the White
House, which stood out clear in the distance. He pressed her
hand, but his voice failed him.
At the edge of the wood the carriage had to stop.
Both got
out and proceeded on foot.
Then he saw that she carried a little white parcel under her
arm, which he had not seen before.
« What is that? ” he asked.
«You will soon see,” she answered, while a serious smile
crossed her face.
"A surprise ? ”
"A remembrance. "


## p. 14177 (#367) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14177
»
((
When they approached the opposite edge of the wood, he
said, pointing to two trees which stood twenty steps away from
the road:-
« Here is the place where I found you lying in your ham-
mock. ”
« Yes,” she said: “it was there also that I found out for the
first time that I should never be able to do without you. ”
"And there is the juniper-tree,” he continued, when they
stepped out into the fields, “where we -- and then he suddenly
»
cried aloud, and stretched out both his hands into space.
“What is the matter ? ” she exclaimed anxiously, looking up
at him. He had turned deathly pale, and his lips quivered.
“It is gone,” he stammered.
What ? »
“It-it- my own. ”
Where once the buildings of the Haidehof rose, there now
stretched a level plain; only a few trees spread out their miser-
able branches,
He could not accustom himself to this sight, and covered his
face with his hands, while he shivered feverishly.
“Do not be sad,” she pleaded. Papa would not have it re-
built before you could make your own arrangements. ”
“Let us go there,” he said.
“Please, please not,” she replied: “there is nothing to be seen
except a few heaps of ruins — at another time when you are not
so excited. ”
« But where shall I sleep? ”
“In the same room in which you were born — I have had it
arranged for you, and your mother's furniture put in. Can you
still say now that you have lost your home ? »
He pressed her hand gratefully; but she pointed to the juniper-
bush, which had struck them before.
“Let us go there,” she said; “lay your head on the mole-hill
and whistle something. Do you remember? ”
“I should think so! »
"How long is it since then?
« Seventeen years. ”
"O heavens, I have loved you so long already, and in the
mean time have become an old maid! And I have waited for
you
from year to year, but
you
would not see it. (He must
come at last,' I thought; but you did not come. And then I was
discouraged, and thought, “You cannot force yourself upon him;
XXIV-887
(


## p. 14178 (#368) ##########################################

14178
HERMANN SUDERMANN
(
(
in reality he does not want you at all. You must come to some
resolution. ' And to put an end to all my longings, I accepted
my cousin, who for the last ten years had been dangling after
me. He had made me laugh so often, and I thought he would
- but enough of this — " and she shuddered. «Come, lie down
whistle. ”
He shook his head, and pointed with his hand silently across
the heath, where, on the horizon, three lonely fir-trees stretched
their rough arms towards the sky.
« Thither,” he said. “I cannot rest ere I have been there. "
"You are right," she replied; and hand in hand they walked
through the blooming heather, over which the wild bees were
swarming, sleepily humming.
When they entered the cemetery the clock at the White
House was striking noon. Twelve times it sounded in short
strokes; a soft echo quivered in the air, and then all was quiet
again: only the humming and singing continued.
His mother's grave was overgrown with ivy and wild myrtle,
and at its head rose the radiant blossom of a golden-rod. Be.
tween the leaves rust-colored ants were creeping, and a lizard
rustled down into the green depths.
Silently they both stood there, and Paul trembled. Neither
dared to interrupt the solemn stillness.
“Where have they buried my father? ” Paul asked at last.
«Your sisters took the body over to Lotkeim," answered Els-
beth.
« That is as well,” he replied. «She has been lonely all her
life: let her be so in death too. But to-morrow we will also go
over to him. ”
Will you go and see your sisters ? »
He shook his head sadly. Then they relapsed into silence.
He leaned his head on his hands and cried.
“Do not cry,” she said: "each one of you has now a home. ”
And then she took the little parcel that she held under her arm,
unfastened the white paper of the cover, and there appeared
an old manuscript book with torn cover and faded leaves.
“See,” she cried, “she sends you this, — her greeting. ”
“Where did you get it from ? ” he asked surprised, for he had
recognized his mother's handwriting.
“It lay in an old chest of drawers which was saved from the
fire, squeezed between the drawers and the back. It seems to
have een lying there ever since her death. "
»


## p. 14179 (#369) ##########################################

HERMANN SUDERMANN
14179
Then they sat down together on the grave, laid the book
between them on their knees, and began to study it. Now he
remembered that Katie, at the time when he surprised her with
her lover, had spoken of a song-book which had belonged to
their mother; but he had never made up his mind to ask after
it, because he did not want to bring to life again the painful
remembrance of that hour.
All sorts of old songs were in it, copied out neatly; near
them others half scratched out and corrected. The latter she
seemed to have reproduced from memory, or perhaps composed
herself.
And directly after stood written, in big letters, this title:-
THE FAIRY TALE OF DAME CARE
THERE was once a mother, to whom the good God had given a
son; but she was so poor and lonely that she had nobody who could
stand godmother to him. And she sighed, and said, “Where shall I
get a godmother from ? »
Then one evening at dusk there came a woman to her house who
was dressed in gray and had a gray veil over her head. She said,
“I will be your son's godmother, and I will take care that he grows
up a good man, and does not let you starve; but you must give me
his soul. ”
Then his mother trembled, and said, “Who are you? ”
“I am Dame Care," answered the gray woman; and the mother
wept; but as she suffered much from hunger, she gave the woman
her son's soul, and she was his godmother.
And her son grew up and worked hard to procure her bread. But
as he had no soul, he had no joy and no youth; and often he looked
at his mother with reproachful eyes, as if he would ask:-
“Mother, where is my soul ? ”
Then the mother grew sad, and went out to find him a soul.
She asked the stars in the sky, “Will you give me a soul ? ” But
they said, “He is too low for that. ”
And she asked the flowers on the heath: they said, “He is too
ugly. ”
And she asked the birds in the trees: they said, “He is too sad. ”
And she asked the high trees: they said, “He is too humble. ”
And she asked the clever serpents; but they said, “He is too
stupid. ”
Then she went away weeping. And in the wood she met a young
and beautiful princess surrounded by her court.
(


## p. 14180 (#370) ##########################################

14180
HERMANN SUDERMANN
a
>
And because she saw the mother weeping, she descended from
her horse, and took her to the castle, which was all built of gold and
precious stones.
There she asked, “Tell me why you weep? ” And the mother
told the princess of her grief, that she could not procure her son
soul, nor joy and youth.
Then said the princess, “I cannot see anybody weep: I will tell
you something - I will give him my soul. ”
Then the mother fell down before her and kissed her hands.
“But,” said the princess, “I will not do it for nothing: he must
ask me for it. Then the mother went to her son; but Dame Care
had laid her gray veil over his head, so that he was blind and could
not see the princess.
And the mother pleaded, “Dear Dame Care, set him free. "
But Care smiled, - and whoever saw her smile was forced to
weep,- and she said, “He must free himself. ”
“How can he do that? ) asked the mother.
“He must sacrifice to me all that he loves,” said Dame Care.
Then the mother grieved very much, and lay down and died.
But the princess waits for her suitor to this very day.
>
Mother, mother! ” he cried; and sank down on the grave.
« Come,” said Elsbeth, struggling with her tears, as she laid
her hand on his shoulder; “let mother be, - she is at peace.
And she shall not harm
your wicked Dame
Care! »
us any
more
>


## p. 14181 (#371) ##########################################

14181
EUGÈNE SUE
(1804-1857)
a
a
HE fame of Eugène Sue as the author of two works, “The
Wandering Jew) and “The Mysteries of Paris,' has spread
far beyond his own country. He wrote upwards of forty
other novels; he was very much of a personage in the social and
intellectual life of his day, when romanticism was popular in the lit-
erature of several lands. But those two fictions are now his pass-
port to consideration. They were extravagantly lauded in their time;
their vogue was great. Judged critically they have faults enough;
but their conspicuous merits can be detected
almost as easily now as when they were
written, half a century ago. Detached from
their time, they have permanent qualities
for success. Sue was
man of cultiva-
tion and social position, of much and ciose
observation: he had seen many men and
many things. Moreover he was born
story-teller, who had the knack of vivid
presentation, the feeling for drama. Again,
in his middle life he became interested
in socialistic ideas, and gave attention to
the state of the Parisian working-folk,- of
the poor and outcast. He put them into his EUGÈNE SUE
fiction with lavish detail, with sympathy
and picturesque power. It was a novel thing in fiction. It gave
Sue's stories what would now be called a “purpose ” flavor. It lent
»
fascination and raison d'être to his work. Sue was, like Dumas, an
improviser, and possessed remarkable fecundity and invention.