Not far from our house, and opposite the old church with the golden
cross, stood a large building, even larger than the church, and having
many towers. They looked exceedingly gray and old and had no golden
cross, but stone eagles tipped the summits and a great white and blue
banner fluttered from the highest tower, directly over the lofty
doorway at the top of the steps, where, on either side, two mounted
soldiers stood sentinels. The building had many windows, and behind
the windows you could distinguish red-silk curtains with golden
tassels. Old lindens encircled the grounds, which, in summer,
overshadowed the gray masonry with their green leaves and bestrewed the
turf with their fragrant white blossoms. I had often looked in there,
and at evening when the lindens exhaled their perfumes and the windows
were illuminated, I saw many figures pass and repass like shadows.
Music swept down from on high, and carriages drove up, from which
ladies and gentlemen alighted and ascended the stairs. They all looked
so beautiful and good! The gentlemen had stars upon their breasts, and
the ladies wore fresh flowers in their hair; and I often thought,--Why
do I not go there too?
One day my father took me by the hand and said: "We are going to the
castle; but you must be very polite if the Princess speaks to you, and
kiss her hand."
I was about six years of age and as delighted as only one can be at six
years of age. I had already indulged in many quiet fancies about the
shadows which I had seen evenings through the lighted windows, and had
heard many good things at home of the beneficence of the Prince and
Princess; how gracious they were; how much help and consolation they
brought to the poor and sick; and that they had been chosen by the
grace of God to protect the good and punish the bad. I had long
pictured to myself what transpired in the castle, so that the Prince
and Princess were already old acquaintances whom I knew as well as my
nut-crackers and leaden soldiers.
My heart beat quickly as I ascended the high stairs with my father, and
just as he was telling me I must call the Princess "Highness," and the
Prince "Serene Highness," the folding-door opened and I saw before me a
tall figure with brilliantly piercing eyes. She seemed to advance and
stretch out her hand to me. There was an expression on her countenance
which I had long known, and a heavenly smile played about her cheeks.
I could restrain myself no longer, and while my father stood at the
door bowing very low--I knew not why--my heart sprang into my throat.
I ran to the beautiful lady, threw my arms round her neck and kissed
her as I would my mother. The beautiful, majestic lady willingly
submitted, stroked my hair and smiled; but my father took my hand, led
me away, and said I was very rude, and that he should never take me
there again. I grew utterly bewildered. The blood mounted to my
cheeks, for I felt that my father had been unjust to me. I looked at
the Princess as if she ought to shield me, but upon her face was only
an expression of mild earnestness. Then I looked round upon the ladies
and gentlemen assembled in the room, believing that they would come to
my defense. But as I looked, I saw that they were laughing. Then the
tears sprang into my eyes, and out of the door, down the stairs, and
past the lindens in the castle yard, I rushed home, where I threw
myself into my mother's arms and sobbed and wept.
"What has happened to you?" said she.
"Oh! mother!" I cried; "I was at the Princess', and she was such a good
and beautiful woman, just like you, dear mother, that I had to throw my
arms round her neck and kiss her."
"Ah!" said my mother; "you should not have done that, for they are
strangers and high dignitaries."
"And what then are strangers?" said I.
"May I not love all people who look upon me with affectionate and
friendly eyes?"
"You can love them, my son," replied my mother, "but you should not
show it."
"Is it then something wrong for me to love people?" said I. "Why
cannot I show it?"
"Well, perhaps you are right," said she, "but you must do as your
father says, and when you are older you will understand why you cannot
embrace every woman who regards you with affectionate and friendly
eyes."
That was a sad day. Father came home, agreed I had been very uncivil.
At night my mother put me to bed, and I prayed, but I could not sleep,
and kept wondering what these strange people were, whom one must not
love.
* * * * *
Thou poor human heart! So soon in the spring are thy leaves broken and
the feathers torn from the wings! When the spring-red of life opens
the hidden calyx of the soul, it perfumes our whole being with love.
We learn to stand and to walk, to speak and to read, but no one teaches
us love. It is inherent in us like life, they say, and is the very
deepest foundation of our existence. As the heavenly bodies incline to
and attract each other, and will always cling together by the
everlasting law of gravitation, so heavenly souls incline to and
attract each other, and will always cling together by the everlasting
law of love. A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot
live without love. Would not the child's heart break in despair when
the first cold storm of the world sweeps over it, if the warm sunlight
of love from the eyes of mother and father did not shine upon him like
the soft reflection of divine light and love? The ardent yearning,
which then awakes in the child, is the purest and deepest love. It is
the love which embraces the whole world; which shines resplendent
wherever the eyes of men beam upon it, which exults wherever it hears
the human voice. It is the old, immeasurable love, a deep well which
no plummet has ever sounded; a fountain of perennial richness. Whoever
knows it also knows that in love there is no More and no Less; but that
he who loves can only love with the whole heart, and with the whole
soul; with all his strength and with all his will.
But, alas, how little remains of this love by the time we have finished
one-half of our life-journey! Soon the child learns that there are
strangers, and ceases to be a child. The spring of love becomes hidden
and soon filled up. Our eyes gleam no more, and heavy-hearted we pass
one another in the bustling streets. We scarcely greet each other, for
we know how sharply it cuts the soul when a greeting remains
unanswered, and how sad it is to be sundered from those whom we have
once greeted, and whose hands we have clasped. The wings of the soul
lose their plumes; the leaves of the flower fast fall off and wither;
and of this fountain of love there remain but a few drops. We still
call these few drops love, but it is no longer the clear, fresh,
all-abounding child-love. It is love with anxiety and trouble, a
consuming flame, a burning passion; love which wastes itself like
rain-drops upon the hot sand; love which is a longing, not a sacrifice;
love which says "Wilt thou be mine," not love which says, "I must be
thine." It is a most selfish, vacillating love. And this is the love
which poets sing and in which young men and maidens believe; a fire
which burns up and down, yet does not warm, and leaves nothing behind
but smoke and ashes. All of us at some period of life have believed
that these rockets of sunbeams were everlasting love, but the brighter
the glitter, the darker the night which follows.
And then when all around grows dark, when we feel utterly alone, when
all men right and left pass us by and know us not, a forgotten feeling
rises in the breast. We know not what it is, for it is neither love
nor friendship. You feel like crying to him who passes you so cold and
strange: "Dost thou not know me?" Then one realizes that man is nearer
to man than brother to brother, father to son, or friend to friend.
How an old, holy saying rings through our souls, that strangers are
nearest to us. Why must we pass them in silence? We know not, but
must resign ourselves to it. When two trains are rushing by upon the
iron rails and thou seest a well-known eye that would recognize thee,
stretch out thy hand and try to grasp the hand of a friend, and perhaps
thou wilt understand why man passes man in silence here below.
An old sage says: "I saw the fragments of a wrecked boat floating on
the sea. Only a few meet and hold together a long time. Then comes a
storm and drives them east and west, and here below they will never
meet again. So it is with mankind. Yet no one has seen the great
shipwreck."