Digitaliseret af | Digitised by
Forfatter(e) | Author(s): Goldschmidt, Meïr Aron.; by M. Goldschmidt ; Translated from the Danish.
Titel | Title: The heir
Alternativ titel | Alternative title: Arvingen.
Udgivet år og sted | Publication time and place: Bayswater : William Brunker, 1865 Fysiske størrelse | Physical extent: 7 s.
DK
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THE HEIR.
BY
M. G O L D S C H M I D T .
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1 8 6 5.
T H E H E I R.
C H A P T E R I.
I fancied it an easy task to descri.be tbe place of our birth, how our childhood was s p e n t; but at the very onset, I feel entangled in a problem I cannot solve :— on trying to remember, the first thing to which my consciousness awoke, I encounter th at singularly involved though open and susceptible existence, during which the mind receives and digests in its own occult way impressions from without, and forms that tissue of sensations and ideas, in which our later sympathies and antipathies, our yearnings and desires, our will and power of action, are rooted for life.
It is especially our house and its surroundings, the scenes of nature among which I awoke, that haunt me with the desire of describing th at marvellous grandeur, splendour and freshness, wrapt in which they revealed themselves to the child’s eye.
But at the very moment I apply to our home the common appellation of a manor, the fairy brightness vanishes. I feel tempted to say that we learn to speak at the expense of a more delicate tho’ incomplete language, our souls possessed when descending on earth.
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Now, fancying myself returning to the home of my childhood, I leave the high road and enter a låne— no one can ever miss this låne, once having seen it—the hedges on either side laden with black- berries; how calm the snnny air is here on a summer s d a y ! And what sweet fragrance !—A little further on, is an alley of poplars. The poplar is no fine tree, properly speaking. I t quickly rises in a pyramid, but on tinding th at it has formed the pyramid too hurriedly it adds a new inverted one th at hangs loose, and nods, and sways to and fro in tassel-like fashion.
Often and often have they impatiently beckoned me a welcome, or sent a sad farew ell; they were mean churls, however, and were kept at a distance, and had to receive the cold biast, so as to shelter the more elegant avenue of limes, th at like earnest, old, confidential servants, led the way to my home.
C H A P T E R ---
♦
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In great sorrow, as in great happiness, man is beyondthe pale of mankind. We are not understood.
Our happiness causes almost pain to others, and their best endeavours to share our sorrow gives us pain.
I went into the desert near by, and among Arab tents I felt momentarily soothed. The reality, to which She had belonged, disappeared; centuries
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placed themselves like a veil between me and sorrow.
The light, the darkness, the limpid rarefied state of the atmosphere, the host of stars glittering in the vast expanse, brought the mind to feel and compre- hend that religion has sprang from the desert, th at revelation has descended here, or th at men's souls have uplifted themselves to bring it hither. My soul, although perceiving the ladder of heaven, felt unable to ascend it.
I resolved to remain here— W hat had I to do with the world ?
I t then happened, that one afternoon towards sunset, I left the well and the little oasis, where the tents stood, and proceeded onward over the sandy plain. But the ground I trod, bore not the appearance of sand; it wore various hues, light blue with a delicate reddish tint, like an amethyst or opal, and the atmosphere around seemed like a blue transparent sea with streaks of lilac, violet, purpie and gold, strongest and most fiery towards the west, where the lower edge of the sun-disc just touched the horizon.
I happened to turn towards the west, and saw my shadow—not as near sunset on an European plain, long only, but infinite; there was no visible e n d ; its black stripe seemed to reach unto the land of the departed,
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as a riband connecting me with it, or as a bridge over which I might pass and reach it.
Suddenly within my shadow anotlier shadow appeared,— it approaclied. I stood still, awaiting tbe angel of death. I t was an old Arab on his way to the tents. On drawing near, and recognizing me in the waning light, he said, “ Peace be with you ! the dew is coming on.”
Those simple' words removed a stone from a fountain of feeling and thought. “ My blessing shall come to thee like the dew of Heaven in the night, when thou least expectest it.” I t was to me as if I felt it descend, cooling my brow and healing my heart. I t was as though in the eye of Heaven, that had ju st closed, I recognized her eye, and received her command in her sweet voice, saying, “ Did I leave no one to live for ?— Live !”
I have obeyed, I am obeying her. W e are now on our homeward way.
I am returning as the heir of him who had imposed upon himself the care of the well-being of others— gentie, as I never was before— a pilgrim, for the distant, holy aim, unmindful of the hardships of the journey— uplifted by a grand, lovely image, that though filling my heart with sadness, is the only
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felicity left to me. Uplifted to do my duty towards my fellow-creatures. Aye, uplifted, as my father had wished,— through love.
She has appointed me to a mission. The children she called hers, and for whose sake she may truly be said to have died, shall be educated for the aim indicated by her— one day to come forward and be greeted by a tenantry, depending on them though free, imbibing through them a recognition of authority and a sentiment of respect for noble, lofty natures, and feeling themselves raised thereby, instead of being debased by envy. When, after having worked humbly and assiduously, after having sown and planted, I shall one day take those two children by the hånd and present them to my tenants, saying, “ Behold my heirs, your leaders, your friends”— and when the air is rent with cheers for them— on that day, there shall be joy around her distant grave at Ehden, and she shall smile to me from Heaven— alas, with the smile I can never forget.
