Translations from the German (Vol 3 of 3): Tales by Musæus, Tieck, RichterCarlyle, Thomas
General
Translations from the German (Vol 3 of 3): Tales by Musæus, Tieck, Richter
Carlyle, Thomas
German fiction -- Translations into English
"I was born in a little village; my father was a poor herdsman. Our
circumstances were not of the best; often we knew not where to find our
daily bread. But what grieved me far more than this, were the quarrels
which my father and mother often had about their poverty, and the bitter
reproaches they cast on one another. Of myself too, I heard nothing said
but ill; they were forever telling me that I was a silly stupid child,
that I could not do the simplest turn of work; and in truth I was
extremely inexpert and helpless; I let things fall; I neither learned to
sew nor spin; I could be of no use to my parents; only their straits I
understood too well. Often I would sit in a corner, and fill my little
heart with dreams, how I would help them, if I should all at once grow
rich; how I would overflow them with silver and gold, and feast myself
on their amazement; and then spirits came hovering up, and showed me
buried treasures, or gave me little pebbles which changed into precious
stones; in short, the strangest fancies occupied me, and when I had to
rise and help with anything, my inexpertness was still greater, as my
head was giddy with these motley visions.
"My father in particular was always very cross to me; he scolded me for
being such a burden to the house; indeed he often used me rather
cruelly, and it was very seldom that I got a friendly word from him. In
this way I had struggled on to near the end of my eighth year; and now
it was seriously fixed that I should begin to do or learn something. My
father still maintained that it was nothing but caprice in me, or a lazy
wish to pass my days in idleness: accordingly he set upon me with
furious threats; and as these made no improvement, he one day gave me a
most cruel chastisement, and added that the same should be repeated day
after day, since I was nothing but a useless sluggard.
"That whole night I wept abundantly; I felt myself so utterly forsaken,
I had such a sympathy with myself that I even longed to die. I dreaded
the break of day; I knew not on earth what I was to do or try. I wished
from my very heart to be clever, and could not understand how I should
be worse than the other children of the place. I was on the borders of
despair.
"At the dawn of day I arose, and scarcely knowing what I did, unfastened
the door of our little hut. I stept upon the open field; next minute I
was in a wood, where the light of the morning had yet hardly penetrated.
I ran along, not looking round; for I felt no fatigue, and I still
thought my father would catch me, and in his anger at my flight would
beat me worse than ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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