GÖETHE AND HIS DANCING MASTER’S DAUGHTERS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VII, Issue 11, 14 March 1891, Page 2

GÖETHE AND HIS DANCING MASTER’S DAUGHTERS.

FROM HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY. fHILST I employed myself in vaiious studies and researches, 1 did not neglect the pleasures incident to youth. At Strasburg every day and hour offeis to the sight the magnificent monument of the Minister, and to the ear the movements and music of the dance. My father himself had given my sister and me our first lessons in this art. We had learned iui; i a \\Ul ' the K‘ave minuet from him. The ' x v<l- ' solos and pas de deux of the French V \ xyT' I theatre, whilst it was with us at ''/Jf! Franckfort, had given me a greater \X \\ A 1 relish for the pleasures of dancing, \ / bur, for the unfortunate termination of my love affair with Margaret, I had entirely neglected it. The taste revived in me at Strasburg. Gn Sundays and holy days, joyous troops, met for the purpose of dancing, were to be seen in all directions. There were little balls in all the country houses, and nothing was talked of but the brilliant routs expected in the winter. I was therefore apprehensive of finding myself out of my element in company, unless I qualified myself to figure as a dancer, and I accordingly took lessons of a master recommended by one of my friends. He was a true French character, cold and polished. He taught with care, but without pedantry. As I had already had some practice, be was not dissatisfied with me.

He had two daughters who were both pretty, and the elder of whom was not twenty. They were both good dancers. This circumstance greatly facilitated my progress, for.the awkwardest scholar in the world must soon have become a passable dancer with such agreeable partners. They were both extremely amiable; they spoke only French ; I endeavoured to appear neither awkward nor ridiculous to them, and I had the good fortune to please them. Their father did not seem to have many scholars, and they lived very much alone. They several times asked me to stay and converse after my lesson, which I very readily did. I was much pleased with the younger one ; the manners of both were very becoming ; the elder, who was at least as handsome as her sister, did not please me so much although she took more pains to do so. At the hour of my lesson she was always ready to be my partner, and she frequently prolonged the dance. The younger, although she behaved in a friendly manner towards me, kept a greater distance, and her father had co call her to take her sister’s place.

One evening, after the dance, I was going to lead the elder to the apartment, but she detained me, ‘ Let us stay here awhile,’ said she ; * my sister, I must own to you, is at this moment engaged with a fortune teller, who is giving her some intelligence from the cards respecting an absent lover, a youth extremely attached to Emily, and in whom all her hopes are placed. My heart,’ continued she, ‘is free ; I suppose I shall often see the gift of it despised. ’ On this subject I paid her some compliments. ' You may,’ said I, ‘ consult the oracle and then yon will know what to expect. I have a mind to consult it likewise ; I shall be glad to ascertain the merit of an art in which I have never had much confidence.’

As soon as she assured me the operation was ended, I led her into the room. We found her sister in good humour—she behaved in a more friendly manner than usual. Sure, as she seemed to be, of her absent lover, she thought there was no harm in showing some attention to her sister’s, for in that light she regarded me. We engaged the fortune-teller, by the promise of a handsome recompense, to tell the elder of the young ladies and me our fortunes also. After the usual preparation and ceremonies, she shuffled the cards for this beautiful girl ; but having carefully examined them, she stopped short and refused to explain herself. ‘ I see plainly,’ said the younger of the girls, who was already partially initiated into the mysteries of this kind of magic, ‘ there is something unpleasant which you hesitate to tell my sister.’

The other sister turned pale, but recovering herself, entreated the sybil to tell her all she had seen in the cards without reserve. The latter, after a deep sigh, told her that she loved, but was not beloved in return ; that a third stood between her and her beloved ; with several other tales of the same kind. The embarrassment of the poor girl was visible. ‘ Let us see whether a second trial will be more fortunate,’ said the old woman, again shuffling and cutting the cards, but it was still worse this time. She wished to make a third trial in hopes of better success, but the inquisitive fair one could bear it no longer, and burst into a flood of tears. Her beautiful bosom was violently agitated. She turned her back on us and ran into the next room. I knew not what to do ; inclination detained me with her sistercompassion urged me to follow the afflicted one. ‘ Console Lucinda,’ said the former, • go to her.’ ‘ How can I console her,’ said I, * without showing the least, signs of attachment? I should be cold and reserved. Is this the moment to be ? Come with me yourself.’ * I know not,’ replied Emily, * whether my presence would be agreeable to her.’

We were, however, going in to speak to her, but we found the door bolted. In vain we knocked, called, and entreated Lucinda ;no answer * Let us leave her to herself,’ said Emily—’she will see no one.’ What could I do ? I paid the fortune-teller liberally for the harm she had done us, and withdrew. I durst not return to the sisters the next day.

On the third day, Emily sent to desire me to come to them without fail. I went accordingly. Towards the end of the lesson Emily appeared ; she danced a minuet with me ; she never displayed so much grace and the father declared he had never seen a handsomer couple dancing in his room. After the lesson the father went out, and I inquired for Lucinda.

‘ She is in bed,’ said Emily, * but do not be uneasy ; when she thinks herself ill, she suffers the less from her afflictions ; and whatever she may say, she has no inclination to die, it is only her passion that torments her. Last night she declared to me she should certainly sink under her great grief this time, and desired that when she should be near

her end, the ungrateful man who had gained her heart for the purpose of ill-treating her, should be brought to her.’ ‘ I cannot reproach myself with giving her any reason to imagine me in love with her,’ I exclained. • I know one who can very well testify in my favour on this occasion. ’ • 1 understand you,’ answered Emily. ‘lt is necessary to come to a resolution to spare us all much vexation. Will you take it ill if 1 entreat you to give over your lessons ? My father says you have now no further occasion for them,' and that you know as much as a young man has occasion to know for nis amusement.’

‘ And is it you, Emily, who bid me banish myself from your presence ?’ * Yes, but not merely of my own accord. Listen to me. After you left us the day before yesterday, I made the for-tune-teller cut the cards for you ; the same fortune appeared thrice, and more clearly each time. You were surrounded by friends, by great lords—in short, by all kinds of happiness and pleasure ; you did not want for money ; women were at a certain distance from you ; my poor sister, in particular, remained afar off. Another was nearer to you, and I will not conceal from you that I think it was myself. After this confession you ought not to take my advice amiss I have promised my heart and hand to an absent friend whom I have hitherto loved above all the world. What a situation would be yours, between two sisters, one of whom would torment you with her passion, the other with her reserve ; and all this for nothing, for a momentary attachment ; for even had we not known who you are, and the hopes you have, the cards would have informed us. Farewell,’ added she, leading me to the door, • and since it is the last time we shall see each other, accept a mark of friendship which I could not otherwise have given you.’ At these words she threw her arms lound my neck, and gave me a kiss in the most tender manner.

At the same time a concealed door opened and her sister, in a pretty morning undress, rushed toward us, and exclaimed, ‘ You shall not be the only one to take leave of him. Emily let me go. ’ Lucinda embraced me, and held me closely to her bosom. Her beautiful black hair caressed my face. She remained for some time in this situation, and thus had I found myself between the two sisters in the very distressing predicament that Emily had warned me of. At length, Lucinda, quitting her hold of me, fixed her eyes on me with a serious air, and then walking up and down the room with hurried steps, at length threw herself upon a sofa. Emily approached her, but Lucinda pushed her back. Then commenced a scene which I still recollect with pain. It was not a threatrical one, there was too much truth in the passion of this young and lively Frenchwoman. J

Lucinda overwhelmed her sister with reproaches. • This,’ said she, ‘ is not the first heart favourably disposed towards me that you have deprived me of It was the same with that absent friend whom you drew into your snares before my eyes ! You have now robbed me of this one, without relinquishing the other. How many more will you take from me ? lam frank and artless ; people think they know me well and therefore they neglect me. You are calm and dissembling ; they think to find something wonderful in you ; but your outward form covers a cold and selfish heart which only seeks victims. ’ Emily had seated herself near her sister, she remained silent. Lucinda, growing warmer, entered into particulars to which it did not become me to listen. Emily endeavoured to pacify her, and made me a sign to retire. But jealousy has the eyes of Argus; and this sign did not escape Lucinda’s notice. She arose with a pensive air, and said, ‘ I know you are lost to me. I renounce all pretensions to you ; but as to you, sister, he shall no more be yours than mine.’ Saying this, she embraced me again, pressed my face to hers and repeatedly joined her lips to mine. ‘And now,’ she cried, ‘dread my malediction. Woe on woe, eternal woe to her who shall press those lips after me ! Embrace him now if you dare. lam sure that Heaven has heard me. And you, sir, retire without delay.’ I did not wait for a repetition of the command ; and I left them with a resolution never moi e to set foot in a house where I had innocently done so much mischief.