Memories: A Story of German LoveMüller, F. Max (Friedrich Max)
Religion
Memories: A Story of German Love
Müller, F. Max (Friedrich Max)
Müller, F. Max (Friedrich Max), 1823-1900; Religion historians -- Germany -- Biography
These things I remember in my earliest childhood, and intermingled with
them are my dear mother's looks, the calm, earnest gaze of my father,
gardens and vine leaves, and soft green turf, and a very old and quaint
picture-book--and this is all I can recall of the first scattered
leaves of my childhood.
Afterwards it grows brighter and clearer. Names and faces appear--not
only father and mother, but brothers and sisters, friends and teachers,
and a multitude of _strange people_. Ah! yes, of these _strange
people_ there is so much recorded in memory.
SECOND MEMORY.
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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