The Kaleidoscope; or, Literary and Scientific Mirror/Series 2/Volume 4/Number 197/The Garret-Window

by Friedrich August Schulze

For other versions of this work, see Das Dachfenster.

THE GARRET-WINDOW.

[ORIGINAL TRANSLATION, BY SPERANS, FROM THE GERMAN OF FREDERIC LAUN.]

Chapter 1st. The one thing needful.—I had scarcely paid the usual fees for my new employment when all my acquaintances showed themselves so over-anxious for my future happiness, that they almost succeeded in making me despair of it. The ladies, in particular, teazed me most unmercifully, by continually telling me, in a direct or an indirect manner, that there was no salvation without the bonds of lawful wedlock.

“Is it not true, my dear,” said a highly-gifted dame to her husband, “is it not true that the Comptroller does but half enjoy his life as long as he remains single?” The question was made rather abruptly, but it was accompanied with so penetrating a glance that the addressed person would have been guilty of absolute rudeness if the answer had not been implicitly confirmative. “Haller, you want a home, my dear,” said another; “without a fixed home man is but a miserable creature.”

I was unwilling to give offence to the fair advocates of holy matrimony, but I was equally loath to acknowledge the utter helplessness of my bachelorship, and contented myself with shrugging up my shoulders in silence. This, however, did not settle the business. I was told that such and such opportunities had escaped me very lately, and that men, in much less prosperous circumstances than myself, gave daily proofs of their actual veneration for the old and praiseworthy institution.

If I happened to take a pretty child in my arms, one lady would remark how well it became me, whilst another snatched the infant from me, and said that I had no right to amuse myself with other people’s property and acquirements. Such scenes would sometimes take place in the presence of unmarried females; and they were generally at a loss how or which way to look. Sometimes they pretended neither to hear nor to see; but, when now and then a woeful and striking picture of a lonely old man was held up to my consideration, the good-natured creatures could not help casting a modest glance on my countenance to observe the effect which the example might have produced on my spirits.

Chapter 2d. A confirmed Old Bachelor.—My embarrassments were still greater when I chanced to visit some of my married friends at a time that there were no strangers with them. They, then, thought themselves still more entitled to an uncontroled criticism on my arrangements, and they gave full career to their whims. They knew most eligible persons, and they were ready to assist me to the utmost. The proposed person was, of course, either a relation or one otherwise connected with the family, and she was represented in such a manner that nobody could have recognised the original; because virtue, intellect, accomplishments, and beauty were so lavishly imparted to one individual that there remained hardly any thing for others, although I might sometimes hear the very same qualities ascribed to other people who had no similarity whatever to the first-named.

All this lasted a good while, and, indeed, so long that several of the proposed females had either got other husbands or withdrawn from the lists: some had even done worse; and some of the married ones had not turned out quite so well as had been anticipated by their sanguine appraisers. I found now and then an opportunity to convey such remarks to the proper quarter, and they were received with the half-joking and half-vexed observation, “Oh! I see how it is; you will never get married.” This opinion, once fairly established, allowed me a little more quiet, and I began to think myself safe.

Chapter 3d. New Prospects.—Heaven had ordained it otherwise. A very amiable and pretty girl, the daughter of a country-collector, came, for the first time, to town. Her father was acquainted with most of my friends, and I met him and his daughter almost every day in company, The candid manner in which the young lady expressed her astonishment at some of the town-fashion would often produce a smile, and it procured her the appellation of nature’s own daughter: but this was exactly what pleased me, and I liked to converse with Miss Ida. At the same time, I could not help remarking that she had very fine sparkling eyes and a lively countenance, to which her curly hair imparted additional charms. I felt more and more attracted; and my attentions were soon observed by the witnesses. The whole of my female acquaintances surrounded me one evening, and congratulated me on my conversion. I awoke as out of a dream, and offered to plead not guilty; but my endeavours were vain, and facts spoke too clearly against me. There could be no doubt of my being finally captivated by the beauty and other qualities of the fair damsel; and to make security doubly sure, the match-makers told me, moreover, that there would be not only a good sum forthcoming as a marriage-portion, but that there were also considerable expectations from various quarters.

Chapter 4th. The Hint.—“Well,” said one of my patronesses, “have you bespoken a place for to-morrow’s solemnity?” “Not I,” said I, smiling; “a single man can easily shift for himself on such occasions.” “Oh! but you are not single now; such selfish considerations must no longer guide you, my good Sir: Ida longs to see the whole of the procession, and her father is a stranger in town; you would not, surely, let them both stand in the street.” The hint was broad enough, and could only be answered by my taking leave, to go in quest of proper accommodations.

Chapter 5th. Two Louisd’or.—The reception was to take place at the very gates of the town, where the public authorities were to make speeches, and virgins in white garments to present flowers. The spot was confined, and few of the houses in the neighbourhood seemed to afford a good prospect. I had vainly examined them all, and hurt myself in many, in ascending the dark and narrow stair-cases, which led to most of the upper-rooms. The windows and balconies, which offered any chance, were all bespoken. Nevertheless, I could not return with such a message; because speaking to women of impossibilities, when the gratification of their curiosity is the object proposed, is like preaching to the fishes; and I knew how I should be received. I returned once more to the landlord of the Golden Fox, and offered him two louisd’or. He reflected a little, and then said, “I have a garret-window, in my private house, undisposed of; and I shall feel very happy in obliging you with it, if it will answer your purpose. I accepted without hesitation, and ordered a breakfast for three persons.

Chapter 6th. The Golden Rule.—“You have spent a long time over your errand,” was my welcome. “Alas!” I replied, “and after all I have but indifferently succeeded. I made my report, and the lady of the house seemed to be but half pleased; some of the visitors were, however, more reasonable, and acknowledged that none but a true lover could have done as much. It was certainly awkward that we should only see the head of the expected monarch, which, besides being very bald, had never been the most brilliant part about him; but thousands of others would not even get a glance of that, and Ida had every reason to be thankful. The fair spinster had not joined in the conversation whilst I was relating the progress of my adventures; but her beautiful eyes had been turned towards me in the kindest manner, and they had spoken volumes. When I finally sat down near her, she regretted her having given me so much trouble; but an old lady, overhearing it, cried out, ‘Never mind, my dear; men should not have things made easy to them; the harder we make them work for our favours the higher they prize them: keep that uppermost in your memory, for it is what we experienced ones call the golden rule.’ I perceived that much had been said to the girl during my absence, and that all had been in my favour: there appeared a general rage for bringing us together, and the attempts were not always the most delicate. Ida herself seemed to be aware of these improprieties, and the disapprobation which I read in her glances, endeared her still more to my fancy. I resigned myself piously to my fate, and said within myself, “God’s will be done in this as in all things!”—The entertainments given on our account followed each other in endless succession; we were again both invited for the next day’s dinner; and my affairs did not well agree with so many amusements: but I knew that my friends would have been mortally offended at any attempt to withdraw, and I could not but comply. “To-morrow, at nine o’clock,” said I, on taking leave for the evening. “You shall not have to wait,” was the reply.

Chapter 7th. Scruples.—As early as seven in the morning I heard already the footsteps of the multitude in the direction of the appointed meeting-place; and as there appeared great hurry and bustle among the crowd, I began to think that the arrival of his Majesty was near at hand. On inquiry, I actually learned that he would come about an hour before the fixed time, and that the council-men were already at their respective posts. I lost not a moment, but ran forthwith towards the collector’s residence: finding no servant in the anti-room, I entered the parlour, where I found Ida at her toilet. She was greatly alarmed at my abrupt entrance, and sprang with the exclamation of “God in heaven!” into a side-room. I found, however, that there was no real ground for the young lady’s terror: since her morning-dress had every requisite decency, and mother nature had been so bountiful towards her, that she stood in little need of artificial embellishments. A sulky-looking servant protruded her face, soon after, through the half-opened door, and exhorted me to patience. In a short time papa made also his appearance, and showed his surprise at my early presence. I explained, and he urged his daughter to conclude, as quickly as possible, the labours of her toilette. She promised compliance; but the collector advised me to go and take possession of the window, because no engagement could be considered secure under such circumstances, and he would follow with Miss Ida as soon as possible.

(To be continued.)