3 Books To Know German Literature

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Theodor Storm, Theodor Fontane, August Nemo

• Publisher: Tacet Books
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9783968580975
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Literary Collections
• Index: Literature

Welcome to the3 Books To Knowseries, our idea is to help readers learn about fascinating topics through three essential and relevant books.These carefully selected works can be fiction, non-fiction, historical documents or even biographies.We will always select for you three great works to instigate your mind, this time the topic is: German Literature- The Sorrows of Young Werther by J.W. von Goethe.- The Rider on the White Horse by Theodor Storm.- Trials and Tribulations by Theodor Fontane.This is one of many books in the series 3 Books To Know. If you liked this book, look for the other titles in the series, we are sure you will like some of the topics.

Trials and Tribulations

By Theodor Fontane

CHAPTER I

At the junction of the Kurfürstendamm and the Kurfürstenstrasse, diagonally across from the Zoological Garden, there still remained, about the middle of the seventies, a large market-garden, extending towards the open country. The little house belonging to this property had but three windows, and was set about a hundred paces back in a front garden; yet in spite of its small size and its secluded position, it could be plainly seen from the road that ran past. But all else that belonged to the place, and indeed formed the principal part of it, was hidden behind this little dwelling as if by the side-scenes of a theatre, and only a little red and green painted tower with a half broken dial beneath its peak (nothing remained of the clock itself) gave one a hint, that behind this "coulisse" something more must be hidden, a hint which was confirmed from time to time by the rising and circling of a flock of pigeons around the tower, and still more by the occasional barking of a dog. Where this dog was actually kept it was indeed impossible to find out, in spite of the fact that the door of the house, which was close to the left corner, stood open early and late and afforded a glimpse of a small part of the yard. However, nothing seemed to have been purposely hidden, and yet everyone who came along the road at the time when our story begins, had to be satisfied with a glimpse of the little house with its three windows and of a few fruit trees that stood in the front garden.

––––––––

It was the week after Whitsunday, when the days are so long that it seems as if the dazzling light would never come to an end. But to-day the sun was already hidden behind the church-tower of Wilmersdorf and instead of the light, with which it had filled the front garden all day, the shades of evening had already fallen, and the half mysterious silence was only surpassed by that of the little house which was occupied by old Frau Nimptsch and her adopted daughter Lena as tenants. But Frau Nimptsch was sitting as usual by the large low hearth in her front room, which took in the whole width of the house, and, bending forward, she was gazing at a blackened old tea kettle, whose lid kept up a continual rattling, although the steam was pouring out of the spout. The old woman was holding her hands out towards the glowing embers and was so lost in her thoughts and dreams that she did not hear the hall door open and a stout woman enter somewhat noisily. Only when the latter cleared her throat and greeted her friend and neighbor, our Frau Nimptsch, quite affectionately by name, did the latter turn around and speak to her guest in friendly fashion and with a touch of playfulness: "Well, this is good in you, dear Frau Dörr, to come over again. And from the 'castle' too. For it is a castle and always will be. It has a tower. And now do sit down.... I just saw your dear husband go out. Of course he would have to. For this is his evening at the bowling alley."

She who received this friendly greeting as Frau Dörr was not only stout, but was an especially imposing-looking woman, who produced the impression of narrow-mindedness as well as that of kindliness and trustworthiness. Meanwhile Frau Nimptsch apparently took no offence and only repeated: "Yes, his evening at the bowling alley. But what I was going to say was, that Dörr's hat really will not do any longer. It is all threadbare and really disgraceful. You ought to take it away from him and put another in its place. Perhaps he would never know the difference.... And now draw up your chair, dear Frau Dörr, or perhaps over there where the footstool is.... Lena, you know, has slipped out and left me in the lurch again."

"Has he been here?"

"Of course he has. And they have both gone a little way towards Wilmersdorf; nobody comes along the footpath. But they may be back again any minute."

"Well, then I had better go."

"Oh, no indeed, dear Frau Dörr. He will not stay. And even if he should, you know, he would not mind."

"I know, I know. And how are things then?"

"Why, how should they be? I believe she is thinking of something even if she does not want others to know it, and she is imagining something or other."

"Oh, my goodness," said Frau Dörr, as she drew up a somewhat higher stool instead of the footstool that had been offered her. "Oh, my goodness, then it's bad. Whenever one begins to imagine things, trouble begins. It is just like the Amen in church. See here, dear Frau Nimptsch, it was just the very same with me, only there was no imagining. And that is just why everything was really quite different."

Apparently Frau Nimptsch did not really understand what Frau Dörr meant, and so the latter went on: "And because I never took any notions into my head, things always went perfectly well and smoothly and now I have Dörr. Oh well, that isn't much, but still it is something respectable and I can show my face everywhere. And that is why I went to church with him too, and not merely to the registrar's office. If you only go to the registrar's office, there will always be talk."

Frau Nimptsch nodded.

But Frau Dörr repeated: "Yes, in church, in the Matthäikirche. But this is what I was really going to say, don't you see, my dear Frau Nimptsch, I was really taller and more pleasing than Lena, and if I was not prettier (for that is something one can never rightly know and tastes differ so), yet my figure was stouter and a great many like that. Yes, so much is certain. But even if I was, as you might say, more solid and weighed more, and there was a something about me—well yes, there was something about me—yet I was always very innocent, almost simple; and as to him, my Count, with his fifty years on his shoulders, well, he was very simple too and always very gay and would never behave properly. And before very long, I told him: 'No, no, Count, this will never do; I can't allow anything like this....' And old people are always like that. I will only say, dear Frau Nimptsch, you can't imagine anything of the sort. It was dreadful. And now when I see Lena's Baron, it makes me ashamed to think what mine was like. And now as to Lena herself. My Lord, of course she isn't exactly an angel, but she is neat and industrious and knows how to do everything, and loves order and practical things. And don't you see, Frau Nimptsch, that is just the sad part of it. These fly-abouts, that are here to-day and there to-morrow, well, they never come to grief, they always fall on their feet like a cat, but such a good child, who takes everything seriously, and does everything for the sake of love, that is bad.... Or perhaps it may not be so bad; you only adopted her and she is not your own flesh and blood and perhaps she is a princess or something like that."

At this conjecture Frau Nimptsch shook her head and looked as if she were about to answer. But Frau Dörr had already risen and said, as she looked along the garden path: "Heavens, there they come. And he is just in civilian's clothes, with coat and trousers to match. But you would notice him all the same! And now he is whispering something in her ear and she is smiling to herself. But she is blushing so.... And now he is going away. And now ... Really, I believe, he is turning back. No, no, he is only saying good-bye again and she is throwing him a kiss.... Yes, I think something like that would have suited me.... No, mine was not like that."

Frau Dörr went on talking, until Lena came in and greeted both women.

CHAPTER II

The next forenoon the sun, which was already rather high, shone into the yard of the Dörr's little establishment and lighted up a considerable number of buildings, among which was the "castle" of which Frau Nimptsch had spoken on the previous evening with roguish playfulness. Such a "castle"! In the twilight its general outlines might have passed for something of the sort, but to-day, as it stood in the remorselessly bright light, one could see only too plainly, that the building with its Gothic windows painted on the walls clear to the top, was nothing more than a wretched old wooden house, in the two gable ends of which had been set some timber framing, the spaces of which were filled with plaster, a comparatively solid structure which indicated two gable rooms. All the rest of the house was merely a stone-paved space from which a confused looking set of ladders led to a loft or garret and from that to the tower which served as a pigeon house. Formerly, before Dörr's time, the whole great wooden "shack" had served merely as a store-house for bean poles and watering pots, perhaps even as a potato cellar, but since, some years ago, the garden had been bought by its present owner, the real dwelling house had been rented to Frau Nimptsch, and the old building painted in the Gothic style, with the addition of the two gable rooms already mentioned, had been arranged as a dwelling for Dörr, who was then a widower; a very primitive arrangement it was, which was in no wise altered by his speedy second marriage. In the summer this cool store house with its stone pavements and almost no windows was not a bad dwelling place, but in the winter Dörr and his wife as well as a rather feeble-minded twenty-year-old son of the former marriage, would have actually frozen, had it not been for the two big hothouses which stood on the other side of the yard. In these the three Dörrs spent their time exclusively from November until March, but even in the warmer and more comfortable part of the year, the family life, when it was not actually necessary to seek refuge from the sun, was mostly carried on in front of these hot houses or in them, because everything there was more convenient. Here were the steps and shelves on which the flowers that were brought out of the hothouses every morning had their airing, here was the stall for the cow and the goat, and here the kennel for the dog that was used to pull the little wagon, and from here extended outward the double row of hotbeds, perhaps fifty paces long, and with a little path between, until they reached the vegetable garden which lay further back. This garden did not look very neat, partly because Dörr had no sense of order, and also because he had such a passion for poultry, that he would allow his favorites to scratch and pick everywhere, without regard to the damage that they did. To be sure, the damage was not great, for there was nothing very fine in the garden except the asparagus beds. Dörr thought that the commonest things were also the most profitable, and therefore raised marjoram and other herbs for seasoning sausages, especially "borré," concerning which he held the opinion that a genuine Berliner really needs only three things: his pale ale, his "gilka" and "borré." "With borré," he always concluded, "one is never at a loss." He was decidedly an eccentric, wholly self-sufficient in his views and was decidedly indifferent as to what might be said about him. His second marriage was in keeping with this tendency, a marriage of inclination, upon which the idea of his wife's unusual beauty had had its effect as well as her former relation to the Count, which instead of injuring her chances, had tipped the balance for the better and had simply served as a complete proof that her charms were irresistible. If there was any hint of overvaluing personal charms—and there was good ground for this opinion—it could not be on the side of Dörr himself, for whom nature, so far as outward appearances were concerned, had done uncommonly little. Thin, of medium height and with five strands of grey hair drawn over his head and brow, his looks would have been completely ordinary had not a brown mole between his eye and his left temple given him a certain mark of distinction. For this reason his wife, with some reason and in her own free and easy fashion used to say: "He is withered looking, but from the left he reminds me of a 'Borsdorfer'."

This description was well hit off and would have served to identify him anywhere if he had not continually worn a linen cap with a big visor, which being drawn well down over his face, hid its every-day as well as its unusual aspect.

And so, with his cap and visor drawn down over his face, he stood once more, on the day after the conversation between Frau Dörr and Frau Nimptsch, before a flower stand that stood against the front greenhouse, setting to one side various wallflower and geranium pots, which were to go to the weekly market on the morrow. They were all plants that had not been raised in pots, but simply set into them, and with especial joy and satisfaction he passed them in review, laughing beforehand at the "madams," who would come the next day to spend their usual five pfennigs, but in the end would be fooled. He considered this one of his greatest pleasures and indeed it was the principal part of his mental life. "If I could only hear them scold about it ... If I only could."

He was talking to himself in this vein, when he heard from the garden the barking of a little cur together with the distressed crowing of a cock, and unless he was very much deceived, of his cock, his favorite with the silvery feathers. And looking toward the garden, he actually saw his flock of hens rushing this way and that, while the cock had flown up in a pear tree, from which he constantly called for help while the dog barked beneath.

"Thunder and lightning," cried Dörr in a rage. "There is Bollmann's dog again.... He has got through the fence again.... But we shall see." ... And quickly setting down the geranium pot that he was examining, he ran to the dog kennel, caught up the hook of the chain and turned the big dog loose, who rushed furiously through the garden. But before he could reach the pear tree, "Bollmann's beast" had already given leg bail and was disappearing under the fence into the open, the big yellow dog pursuing him with great leaps. But the gap that had sufficed for the pug would not let him through, and he was forced to give up the chase.

Dörr himself had no better luck, when he came up with a rake and exchanged glances with the dog. "Well, Sultan, we didn't catch him this time." And so Sultan trotted back to his kennel in a...

Table of contents

• Table of Contents
• Introduction
• Authors
• The Sorrows of Young Werther
• The Rider on the White Horse
• Trials and Tribulations
• About the Publisher
• Colophon