section one of stories by foreign authors German authors volume two this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by William Jones Benita Springs Florida stories by foreign authors German authors volume two by various section one Christian Gellert's Last Christmas by Bertolt Auerbach from German Tales 1869 three o'clock I just struck from the Tower of St. Nicholas Leipzig on the afternoon of December 22nd 1768 when a man wrapped in a loose overcoat came out of the door of the University his countenance was exceedingly gentle and on his features cheerfulness still lingered for he had been gazing upon a hundred cheerful faces after him thronged any troop of students who holding back allowed him to perceive them the passengers in the street saluted him and some students who pressed forwards and hurried past him homers saluted him quite reverentially he returned their salutations with a surprised and almost deprecatory air and yet he knew and could not conceal from himself that he was one of the most beloved not only in the good city of Leipzig but in all lands far and wide it was Christian first to go to Gellert the poet of fables hymns and lays who was just leaving his college when we read his lectures upon morals which were not printed until after his death we obtain but a very incomplete idea of the great power with which they came immediately from Gellert's mouth indeed it was his voice and the touching manner in which he delivered his lectures that made so deep and impression upon his hearers and Robinner was right when once he wrote to a friend that the philanthropic voice of Gellert belonged to his words above all however it was the amiable and pure personal character of Gellert which vividly and edifyingly impressed young hearts Gellert was himself the best example of pure moral teaching and the best which a teacher can give his students is faith in the victorious might and the stability of the eternal moral laws his lessons were for life for his life in itself was a lesson many a victory over the trebles of life over temptations of every kind a many an elevation to nobility of thought and to purity of action had its origin in that lecture hall at the feet of Gellert it was as though Gellert felt that it was the last time he would deliver these lectures that those words so often and so impressively uttered would be heard no more from his mouth and there was a peculiar sadness yet a peculiar strength in all he said that day he had this day earnestly recommended modesty and humility and it appeared almost offensive to him the people as he went should tip him in regard to these very virtues for continually he heard men whisper that is Gellert what is fame and what is honor a cloak of many colors without warmth without protection and now as he walked along his heart literally froze in his bosom as he confessed to himself that he had as yet done nothing nothing which could give him a feeling of real satisfaction men honored him and loved him but what was all that worth his innermost heart could not be satisfied with that in his own estimation he deserved no meat of praise and where where was there any evidence of that higher and pure life which he would feign bring about then again the spirit would comfort him and say much seed is lost much falls in stony places and much on good ground and brings forth sevenfold his inmost soul heard not the consolation for his body was weak and sore burdened from his youth up and in his later days yet more than ever and there are conditions of the body in which the most elevating words and their cherished notes of joy strike dull and heavy on the soul it is one of the bitterest experience of life to discover how little one man can really be to another how joyous is that youthful freshness which can believe that by a thought transferred to another's heart we can induce him to become another being to live according to what he must acknowledge true to throw aside his previous delusions and return to the right path youngsters go their way do your words follow after where are they going what now their thoughts what manner of life will be theirs my heart yearns after them but cannot be with them oh how happy were those messengers of the spirit who cried aloud to youth or manhood the words of the spirit that they must leave their former ways and this fourth change to other beings pardon me oh God that I would feign be like them I am weak in vile and yet me thinks there must be words as yet unheard unknown oh where are they these words which at once they hold upon the soul with such heavy thoughts went gathered away from his college gate to Rosenthal there was but one small pathway cleared but the passengers cheerfully made way for him and walked in the snow that they might leave him the pathway unimpeded but he felt sad and as of each tree had somewhat to cast at him like all men really pure and cleaving to the good with all their might Gellert was not only far from contending himself with work already done he also in his anxiety to be doing almost forgot that he the inner depression easily changes to displeasure against everyone and the household of the melancholic suffers thereby intolerably for the displeasure turns against them no one does anything properly nothing is in its place how very different is Gellert's melancholy not a soul suffers from it but himself against himself alone his gloomy thoughts turn and towards every other creature he is always kind amiable and obliging he bites his lips but when he speaks to anyone he is fully good for bearing and self-forgetful whilst they were talking together Gellert was sitting in his room and has lighted a pipe to dispel the agitation which he would experience in opening his letters and while smoking he could read them through much more comfortably he reproached himself for smoking which was said to be injurious to his health but he could not quite give up the horrible practice as he called it he first examined the addresses and seals of the letters which had arrived then quietly opened and read them a fit full smile passed over his features there were letters from well-known friends full of love and admiration but from strangers also who in all kinds of heart distress took counsel of him he read the letters full of friendly applause first hastily that he might have the right of reading them again and that he might not know all at once and when he had read a friends letter for the second time he sprang from his seat and cried thank God thank God that I am so fortunate as to have such friends to his inwardly diffident nature these helps were a real requirement they serve to cheer him and only those who did not know him call his joy at the reception of praise conceit it was on the contrary the truest modesty how often did he sit here and all that he had taught in written all that he had ever been to men in the world indeed faded vanished and died away and he appeared to himself but a useless servant of the world his friends he answered immediately and as his inward melancholy vanished and the philanthropy nay this brightness of his soul beamed forth when he was among men and looked in a living face so was it also with his letters when he be thought him of the friends to whom he was writing he not only acquired tranquility that virtue for which his whole life long he strove but his loving nature received a new life and only by slight intimations did he betray the heaviness and ejection which weighed upon his soul he was in the full sense of the word philanthropic in the sight of good men and in thoughts for the welfare there was for him a real happiness and a joyous animation when however he had done writing and felt only again the gloomy spirits came back he had seated in himself wishing to raise his thoughts for more composing a sacred song but he was ill at ease and had no power to express that inward firm and self rejoicing might of faith which lived in him again and again the scoffers and free thinkers rose up before his thoughts he must refute their objections and not until that was done did he become himself it is a hard position when a creative spirit cannot forget the adversaries which are all sides oppose him in the world they come unsummoned to the room and they will not be expelled they peer over the shoulder and tug at the hand which feign would write they turn images upside down and distort the thoughts and here and there from ceiling and wall they grand and scoff and oppose and what was just gushing as an aspiration from the soul is converted to a confused absurdity at such a time the spirit courageous and self dependent must take refuge in itself and show a firm front to the world of foes a strong nature boldly hurls his sneak stand at the devil's head goes to battle with his opponents with words both written and spoken and keeps his own individuality free from the perplexities with which opponents disturbed all that has been previously done and make the soul unsteady fast and unnerved for what is to come Gellertz was no battling defiant nature which relies upon itself he did not hurl his opponents down and go his way he would convince them and so they were always ready to encounter him and as the applause of his friends rejoiced him so the opposition of his enemies could seek him in deep dejection besides he had always been weekly he had as he himself complained in addition to frequent coughs and a pain in his loins a continual gnawing and pressure in the center of his chest which accompanied him from his first rising in the morning until he slept at night thus he sat for a while in deep dejection and as often before his only wish was that god would give him grace whereby when his hour was come he might die piously and tranquilly he was past midnight when he sought his bed and extinguished his light and the buckets at the well go up and go down about the same hour in dubin forest the rustic christopher was rising from his bed as with steel and flint he scattered sparks upon the tender in kindling himself a light his wife awakening cried why that heavy sigh ah life is a burden i'm the most harassed mortal in the world the pettiest office clerk may now be a bed in peace and needn't break off his sleep while i must go out and brave wind and weather be content replied his wife why i dreamt you had actually been made magistrate and wore something on your head like a king's crown all you women as though what you see isn't enough you like to chatter about what you dream like the lamp to set his wife and i'll get up and make you a nice porridge the peasant putting the candle in his lantern went to the stable and after he had given some fodder to the horses he seated himself upon the manger with his hands squeezed between his legs and his head bent down he reflected over and over again what a wretched existence he had of it why thought he are so many men so well off so comfortable whilst you must always be toiling what care i if envy be not a virtue and yet i'm not envious i don't grudge others being well off only i should like to be well off too oh for a quiet easy life am i not worse off than a horse he gets fodder at the proper time and takes no care about it why did my father make my brother a minister he gets his salary without any trouble sits in a warm room and has no care in the world and i must slave and torment myself strange to say his very next thought that he would like to be made a local magistrate he would know wise confess to himself he sat still a long while then he went back again to the sitting room past the kitchen where the fire was burning surely he seated himself at the table and waited for his morning porridge on the table lay an open book his children had been reading at the previous evening involuntarily taken enough he began to read suddenly he started rubbing his eyes and then read again how comes this verse here just at this moment he kept his hand upon the book and so easily had he caught the words that he repeated them to himself softly with his lips and nodded several times as much as to say that's true and he said aloud it's all there together short and sweet and he was still staring at it when his wife brought in the smoking porridge taking off his cap he folded his hands and said aloud accept god's gifts with resignation content to lack what thou hast not in every lot there's consolation there's trouble too in every lot the wife looked at her husband with amazement what a strange expression was on his face and as he sat down and began to eat she said what is the meaning of that grace what has to you where did you find it it's the best of all graces the very best real god's word yes and all your life you've never made such nice porridge before you must have put something special in it i don't know what you mean stop there's a storybook line there uh that's it and it's by gallert of leipzig what gallert of leipzig men with ideas like that don't live now there may have been such a thousand years ago in holy lands not among us those are the words of a saint of old and i tell you they are by gallert of leipzig of whom your brother has told us in fact he was his tutor and haven't you heard how pious and good he is i wouldn't have believed that such men still lived and so near us too as leipzig well but those who lived a thousand years ago were also once living creatures and over leipzig is just the same heaven and the same sun shines and the same god rules as over all other cities oh yes my brother has an apt pupil in you well why not i've treasured of all he told us of professor gallert professor yes professor a man was such a proud new fangled title couldn't write anything like that he didn't give himself the title and he is poor enough with all and how hard it has fared with him even from childhood he has been well acquainted with poverty his father was a poor minister in heineken with 13 children gallert when quite a little fellow was obliged to be a copy novice clerk who can tell whether he didn't then contract that physical weakness of his and now that he is an old man things will never go better with him he has often no wood and must be pinched with cold it is with him perhaps as with that student of whom your brother has told us who is as poor as a rat and yet must read and so in winter he lies in bed with an empty stomach until day is far advanced and he has his book before him and first he takes out one hand to hold his book and then when that is numb with cold the other ah tongue cannot tell how poorly the man must live and yet your brother has told me if he has put a few pounds he doesn't think at all of himself he always looks for one still poorer than he is and then gives all away and he's always engaged in aiding and assisting others oh dear and yet he is so poor maybe at this moment he is hungry and cold and he is said to be in no health besides wife i would willingly do the man a good turn if i could if now he had some land i could plow and sow and reap and carry and thresh by the way together for him i should like to pay him attention in such a way that he might know there was at least one who cared for him but his profession is one in which i can't be of any use to him well just seek him out and speak with him once you're going today you know with your wood to life seek seek him out and thank him that sort of thing does a man's heart good anybody can see him yes yes i should like much to see him and hold out to him my hand but not empty i wish i had something speak to your brother and get him to give you a note to him no no say nothing to my brother but it might be possible for me to meet him in the street give me my sunday coat it will come to no harm under my cloak when his wife brought him the coach he said if now gallard had a wife or a household of his own one might send him something but your brother says he is a bachelor and lives quite alone christopher had never before so cheerfully harnessed his horses and put them to his wood laden wagon for a long while he had not given his hand so gaily to his wife at party nest today now he started with his heavily laden vehicle through the village the wheels creaked and crackled in the snow at the parsonage he stopped and looked away yonder where his brother was still sleeping he thought he would wake him and tell him his intention but suddenly he flipped up his horses and continued his route he wouldn't yet bind himself to his intention perchance it was but a passing thought he doesn't own that to himself he says to himself that he will surprise his brother with the news of what he has done and then his thoughts wondered away to the good man still sleeping yonder in the city and he hummed the verse to himself in an old familiar tune wonderfully in life do effects manifest themselves of which we have no trace gallard too heard in his dreams a singing and he knew not what it was but it rang so consolingly so joyously christopher drove on and he felt as though a bandage had been taken from his eyes he reflected what a nice house what a bonny wife and rosy children he had and how warm the cloak which he had thrown over him was and how well off were both man and beast and through the still of the night he drove along and beside him set a spirit but not an illusion of the brain such as an olden time men conjured up to their terror a good spirit sat beside him beside the woodman who his full life long had never believed that anything could have power over him but what had hands and feet it is said that on treblous nights evil spirits settle upon the necks of men and belabor them so that they gasp and sweat for very terror quite another sort it was today which sat by the woodsman and his heart was warm and it's beating quick in ancient times men also carried loads of wood through the night that heretics might be burned there on these men thought they were doing a good deed in helping to execute justice but who can say how painful it was to their hearts when they were forced to think uh tomorrow on this wood which now you carry will shriek and crackle and gasp a human being like yourself who can tell what black spirits settled on the necks of those who bore the wood to make a funeral pile how very different it was today with our woodman christopher and earlier still in ancient times men brought wood to the temple whereon they offered victims in the honor of god and according to their notions they did a good deed for when the words no longer suffice to express the fervency of the heart it gladly offers what it prizes what it dearly loves as a proof of its devotion of the earnestness of its intent how differently when christopher from the dubin forest upon his way he knew not whether he were intending to bring a pure offering that men had brought in bygone ages but his heart grew warm within him it was day as he arrived before the gates of leipzig here there met him a funeral procession behind the beer the scholars of saint thomas and long black cloaks were chanting christopher stopped and raised his hat whom were they burying supposing it were galler yet surely he thought it is he and how gladly said he to himself would you now have done him a kindness i even given him your wood yes indeed you would and now he is dead and you cannot give him any help as soon as the train had passed christopher asked who was being buried it was a simple burger it was not galler and in the deep breath which christopher drew they had double signification on the one hand was joy that galler was not dead on the other hand a still small voice whispered to him that he had now really promised to give him the wood ah but whom had he promised himself and it is easy to argue with one's own conscience superstition babbles of conjuring spells by which without the cooperation of the patient the evil spirit can be summarily ejected it would be convenient if one had that power but in truth it is not so it is long here the evil desire and the evil habit are removed from the soul into which they have nestled and the will for a long while in bondage must cooperate if a releasing spell from without is to set the prisoner free one can only be guided but himself must move his feet as christopher now looked about him he found that he had stopped close by an inn he drove his load a little aside went into the parlor and drank a glass of warmed beer there was already a goodly company and not far from christopher said a husband man with his son a student here who was telling him how there had been lately a quite a stir professor gallert had been ill and writing a well-trained horse had been recommended for his health now prince henry of prussia during the seven years war at the occupation of leipzig had sent him a piebald that had died a short time ago and the elector hearing of it had sent gallert from dresden another a chestnut with golden bridal blue velvet saddle and golden broderied housings half the city had assembled when the groom a man with iron gray hair brought the horse and for several days it was seen at the stable but gallert did not mounted it was so young in high spirited the rustic now asked his son whether the professor did not make money enough to procure a horse of his own to which the son answered certainly not his salaries but 125 dollars and his further gains are inconsiderable his lectures on morals he gives publicly i.e. gratis and he has hundreds of hearers and therefore at his own lectures which must be paid for he has so many the fewer to be sure he has now and then presence from grand patrons but no one gives them wasn't for all enough to live upon and to have all over with a single acknowledgement our friend christopher started as he heard this he had quite made up his mind to take yellow the wood but he had yet to do it how easy were virtue if it will indeed were the same thing if performance could immediately succeed to the moment off burning enthusiasm but one must make way over obstacles over those that hourly lie in one's path and over those that are hidden deep in the heart and negligence has a thousand very cunning advocates how many go forth prompted by good intentions but let little hindrances turn them from their way entirely from the way of life in front of the house christopher met another woodsman who me knew and you are stirring betimes prices are good today but little comes to the market now was the cry from all sides christopher wanted to say that all that didn't concern him but he was ashamed to confess that his design was and an inward voice told him he must not lie without answering he joined the rest and went in his way to the market and on the road he thought there are peter and godfrey and john who have seven times your means and not one of them i'm sure would think of doing anything of the kind why will you be the kind hearted fool stay what matters is what others do or leave undone every man shall answer for himself yes but go to market it is better it should be so yes certainly much better sell your wood who knows perhaps he doesn't want it and take him the proceeds or at least the greater portion but is the wood still yours you have properly speaking already given in a way it has only not been taken from your keeping there are people who cannot give they can only let a thing be taken either by the hand of chance or by urgency and in treaty christopher had such fast hold of possession that it was only after sore wrestling that he let it go and yet his heart was kind at least today it was so disposed but the tempter whispered it is not easy to find so good natured fellow as you how readily would you have given had the man been in want and your good intention must go for the deed still on the other hand there was something in him which made opposition an echo from those hours when in the still night he was driving thither and it burned in him like sacred fire and it said you must now accomplish what you intended certainly no one knows of it and you are responsible to no one but you know of it yourself and one above you knows and how shall you be justified and he said to himself i'll stand by this look it is just nine if no one asked the price of your wood until ten o'clock until the stroke of ten until the head is done striking i mean if no one asked then the wood belongs to professor gallard but if a buyer come then it is a sign that you need not should not give it away there that's all settled but now what means you this can you make your good deed dependent upon such a chance is this no no i don't mean it but yet yet only for a joke i'll try it temptation kept him turning as it were in a circle and still he stood with an apparently quiet heart by his wagon in the market the people who heard him muttering in this way to himself looked at him with wonder and passed by him to another wagon as though he had not been there it struck nine can you patiently wait another hour christopher lied at his pipe and he looked calmly on while this and that load was driven off it struck the quarter half hour three quarters christopher now put his pipe in his pocket it had long been cold and his hands were almost frozen all his blood rushed to his heart now it struck the full hour stroke after stroke at first he counted then he fastened he had lost a stroke and miscalculated either voluntarily or involuntarily he said to himself when it had finished striking you're wrong it is nine not ten he turned around that he might not see the dial and thus he stood for some time with his hands upon the wagon rack gazing at the wood he knew not how long he had been thus standing when someone tapped him on the shoulder and said how much for the load of wood end of section one section two of stories by foreign authors german authors volume two this is a livervox recording all livervox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit livervox.org recording by william jones beneath springs florida stories by foreign authors german authors volume two by various section two christian yellow it's last christmas by berthold auerbach from german tales christopher turned round there was an odd look of a resolution in his eyes as he said eh eh what time is it half past ten then the wood is now no longer mine at least to sell and collecting himself he became suddenly warm and with firm hand turned his horses round and begged the woodman who accompanied him to point him out the way to the house with a schwarzbrett or dr junius's there he delivered a full load at each log he took out of the wagon he smiled oddly the woodmeasurer measured the wood carefully turning each log in placing it exactly that there might not be a crevice anywhere why are you so over particular today pray asked christopher and he received for answer professor gellert must have a fair load every shaving kept back from him were a sin christopher laughed aloud and the woodmeasurer looked at him with amazement for such particularity generally provoked a quarrel christopher had still some logs over at least he kept by him on the wagon at this moment the servant sour came up and asked to whom the wood belonged to professor gellert answered christopher that man's mad it isn't true professor gellert has not bought any wood it is my business to look after that he has not bought it and yet it is his cried christopher sour was on the point of giving the mad peasant a hearty scolding raising his voice so much the louder as it was striking 11 by st nicolas at this moment however he became suddenly mute for yonder from the university there came with tired gait a man of a noble countenance at every step he made on this side and on that off came the hats and caps of the passersby and sour simply called out here comes the professor himself what a peculiar expression passed over christopher's face he looked at the newcomer and so earnest was his gaze that gellert who always walked with his head bowed suddenly looked up christopher said mr gellert i am glad to see you still alive i think you said gellert and made as though he would pass on but christopher stepped up closer to him and stretching out his hand to him said i have taken the liberty i should like will you give me your hand mr gellert gellert drew his long thin hand out of his mouth and placed it in the hard open like hand of the peasant and at this moment when the peasant's hand lay in the scholar's palm as one felt the other's pressure in actual living grasp that took place though the mortal actors in the scene were all unconscious of it a renewal of that healthy life which alone can make a people one how long had the learned world wrapped up in itself separated from fellow men around thought in latin felt as foreigners and lived buried in contemplation of bygone worlds from the time of gellert commences the ever-increasing unity of good fellowship throughout all classes of life kept up by mutual giving and receiving as the scholars as a solitary poet endeavors to work upon others by lays that twicken and songs have insight so he in his turn is a debtor to his age and the lonely thinking and writing become the property of all but the effects are not seen in a moment for higher than the most highly gifted spirit of any single man is the spirit of a nation with the pressure which gellert and the peasant exchanged commenced a mighty change in universal life which never more can cease to act permit me to enter your room said christopher and gellert nodded us in it he was so courteous that he motioned to the peasant to enter first however sour went close after him he thought it must be a madman he must protect his master men looked just as if he were drunk gellert with his ominousess bodice follow them gellert however felt that the man must be actuated by pure motives he bathed the others retire and took christopher alone into his study and as he clasp his left with his own right hand he asked well my good friend what is your business yeah oh nothing i've only brought you a load of wood there a fair full load however i'll give you the few logs which i have in my wagon as well my good man my servant sour looks after buying my wood it is no question of buying no my dear sir i give it to you give it to me why me particularly oh sir you do not know at all what good you do what good you have done me and my wife was right why should there not be really pious men in our day too surely the sun still shines as he's shown thousands of years ago all is now the same as then and the god of old is still living certainly certainly i'm glad to see you so pious ah believe me dear sir i am not always so pious and that i am so disposed today is owing to you we have no more confessionals now but i can confess to you and you have taken a heavier load from my heart than a wagon load of wood oh sir i am not what i was in my early days i was a high spirited merry lad and out in the field and indoors in the inn and the spinning rooms there was none who could sing against me but that is long past what has a man on whose head the grave blossoms are growing and he pointed to his gray head to do with all that trash and besides this seven years war has put a stop to all our singing but last night in the midst of the fearful cold i sang a lay set expressly for me all old tunes go to it and it seemed to me as though i saw a signpost which pointed i know not whether or nay i do know whether and now the peasant related how discontented and unhappy in his mind he had been and how the words in the lay had all at once raised his spirits and accompanied him upon the journey like a good fellow who talks to one cheerfully at this part of the peasants tale gullard folded his hand in silence and the peasant concluded how i always envied others i cannot now think why but you i do envy sir i should like to be as you and gullard answered i thank god and rejoice greatly that my writings have been of some service to you think not so well of me would god i were really the good man i appear in your eyes i am far from being such as i should such as i would feign me i write my books for my own improvement also to show myself as well as others what manner of men we should be laughing the peasant replied you put me in mind of the story of my poor mother used to tell of the old minister he stood up once in the pulpit and said my dear friends i speak not only for you but for myself also i too have need of it christopher laughed outrageously when he had finished and gullard smiled and said yes whoever in the darkness lighteth another with a lamp lighteth himself also and the light is not part of ourselves it is put into our hands by him who hath appointed the sons their courses the peasant stood speechless and looked out on the ground there is something within him which took away the power of looking up he was only conscious that it ill became him to laugh so loudly just now when he told the story of the old minister a longer pause ensued and gullard seemed to be lost in reflection upon this reference to a minister's work for he said have to himself oh how would it fulfill my dearest wish to be a village pastor to move about among my people and really be one with them the friend of their souls my whole life long never to lose them out of my sight yonder goes one whom i have led into the right way there another with whom i still wrestle but whom i shall assuredly save and in them all the teaching lives which god proclaims by me did i not think that i should be acting against my duty i would this moment choose a country life for the remnant of my days when i look for my window over the country i have before me the broad sky of which we citizens know but little a scene entirely new there i stand and lose myself for half an hour in gazing and in thinking yes good friend and be no man in the rank of scholars look at me i am almost always ill and what a burden is a sickly body how strong on the contrary are you i am never happier than when we thought being remarked i can watch a dinner table thronged by hungry men and maids even if these folks be not generally so happy as their superiors at table they are certainly happier yes sir we really start eating and drinking and lately when falling and sorting out that wood below i was more than usually lively it seems as though i had a notion i was to do some good with it and must i permit you to make me a present ask yellow rest in his chin upon his left hand and the peasant answered it is not worth talking about nay it might be well worth talking about but i accept your present it is pride not to be ready to accept the gift it's not all we have a gift from god and what one man gives another he gives as is most appropriately said for god's sake where i your minister i should be pleased to accept a present from you you see good friend we men have no occasion to thank each other you have given me nothing of yours and i have given you nothing of mine that the trees grow in the forest is none of your doing it is the work of the creator and preserver of the world and the soil is not yours and the sun and the rain are not yours they are all the works of his hand and if perchance i have some healthy thoughts rising up in my soul which benefit my fellow man it is none of mine it is his doing the word is not mine and the spirit is not mine and i am but an instrument in his hand therefore one man needs not to utter words of thanks to his fellow if everyone would but acknowledge who it really is that gives the peasant looked up in astonishment yellow remarked it and said understand me all right i thank you from my heart you have done a kind action but that the tree grows is none of yours and it is none of mine that thoughts arise in me everyone simply tells his field and tends his woodland and the honest a situous toil he gives there to is his virtue that you felt loaded and brought the wood and which no recompense for your labor is very thankworthy my wood was more easily felt but those still nice which i and all of my calling pass in heavy thought who can tell what toil there is in them there is in the world an adjustment which no one sees and which but seldom discovers itself and this and that shift thither and hither and the scales of the balance become even and then ceases all distinction between mine and thine and in the spirit forest rings and acts for me and in the silent night of my spirit thanks and my pen writes for you the peasant passed both his hands or his temples and his look was as though he said to himself where are you are you still in this world is it mortal man who speaks to you are you in life sick in that popular city where men jostle one another for gain and bare existence below might be heard the creaking of the saw as a wood was being sundered and now the near horse nays and christopher is in the world again it may enter the horse to stand so long in the cold and no money for the wood but perhaps a sick horse to take home into the bargain that would be too much he thought yes yes mr professor said he he had his head under his arm and was rubbing his hands yes i am delighted with what i have done and i value the lesson believe me more than ten loads of wood and never shall i forget you to my dying day and though i see you're not so poor as i had imagined i still don't regret it oh no certainly not at all eh did you think me so very poor then yes miserably poor i have always been poor but god has never suffered me to be a single day without necessaries i have been the world much happiness which i have not deserved and much happiness i have not which perchance i have not deserved i have found much favor both high and low for which i cannot sufficiently thank god and now tell me can i not give you something or obtain something for you you are a local magistrate i presume oh why so you look like it you might be christopher had taken his head into his hands and was crumpling it up now he half closed his eyes and with a sly inquiring glance he peered at gallert suddenly however the expression of his face changed and the muscles quivered as he said sir what a man are you how can you dive into the recesses of one's heart i have really pined night and day and been crossed with the whole world because i could not be magistrate and you sir you have actually helped to overcome that in me oh sir as soon as i read that verse in your book i had an idea and now i see still more plainly that you must be a man of god who can pluck the heart from one's bosom and turn it round and round i had thought i could never have another moment's happiness if my neighbor hunscott leave should be magistrate and with that first of yours it has been with me as when one calms the blood with a magic spell well my good friend i am rejoiced to hear it believe me everyone has in himself alone in a whole host to govern others what can so strongly urge men to wish to govern others what can it profit you to be local magistrate when to accomplish your object you must perhaps do something wrong what were the fame not only of a village but even of the whole world if you could have no self respect let it suffice for you to perform your daily duties with uprightness let your joys be centered in your wife and children and you will be happy what need you more think not that honor and station could make you happy rejoice and again i say rejoice a contented spirit is a continual feast i often whisper this to myself when i feel disposed to give way to dejection and although misery be not our fault yet lack of endurance and of patience in misery is undoubtedly our fault i would my wife were here too that she also might hear this i grudge myself the hearing of it all alone i cannot remember it all properly and yet i should like to tell her word for word who would have thought that by standing upon a load of wood one you'd get a peep into heaven yell out in silence about his head and afterwards he said yes rejoice in your deed as i do in your gift your wood is sacrificial wood in olden time and it was right in principle because man could not yet offer prayer and thanks in spirit it was the custom and ordinance to bring something from one's possessions as a proof of devotion this was a sacrifice and the more important the gift to be given or the request to be granted the more costly was the sacrifice our god will have no victims but whatsoever you do under one of the least of his you do unto him such are our sacrifices my dear friend from my heart i thank you for you have done me a kindness and that you have given me a real undeniable proof that my words have penetrated your heart and that i do not live on for nothing and treasured up in your heart that you have caused real joy to one who is often very often weighed down with heaviness and sorrow you have not only kindled bright tapers upon my christmas tree but the tree itself burns gives light and warms the holy spirit and its admonition to trust in the most high in this wilderness of life in mourning and in woe oh my dear friend i have been nigh unto death what a solemn a quaking stride is the stride unto eternity what a difference between ideas of death in the days of health and on the brink of the grave and how shall i show myself worthy of longer life by learning better to die and mark when i sit here in solitude pursuing my thoughts keeping some and driving away others then i can think that in distant valleys upon distant mountains there are living men who carry my thoughts within their hearts and for them i live and they are near and dear to me till one day we shall meet where there is no more partying no more separation peasant and scholar let us abide as we are give me your hand farewell and once again the soft and the hard hand were clasped together and christopher really trembled as gallant laid his hand upon his shoulder they shook hands and there with something touched the heart of each more impressively more completely than ever words could touch it christopher got downstairs without knowing how below he threw down the extra logs of wood which he had kept back with the clatter from the wagon and then drove briskly from the city not till he arrived at lindental did he allow himself and his horse's rest or food he had driven away empty he had nothing in his wagon nothing in his purse and yet who can tell what treasures he took home and who can tell what indistinguishable fire he left behind him yonder by that lonely scholar geller who usually dined at his brothers today had dinner brought into his own room remained quite alone and did not go out again he had experienced quiet enough excitement and society had in his own thoughts oh to find that there are open susceptible hearts is a blessing to him that writes in solitude and is as wondrous to him as though he dipped his pen in streams of sunshine and as if all he wrote were light the raindrop which falls from the cloud cannot tell upon what plant it drops there is a quickening power in it but for what any thought which finds expression from a human heart and action may a whole life is like the raindrop falling from the cloud the whole period of the life endures no longer than the raindrop needs for falling and as for knowing where your life is continued how your work proceeds you cannot attain to that and in the night all was still around nothing was a stir the whole earth was simple rest as gallant sat in his room by his lonely lamp his hand lay upon an open book and his eyes were fixed upon the empty air and on a sudden came once more upon him that melancholy gloom which so easily resumes its place after more than usual excitement it is as though the soul suddenly elevated above all must still remember the heaviness it but now experienced though that expresses itself as tears of joy in the eye in gallant however this melancholy had a more peculiar phase he sort of timidity had rooted itself in him connected with his weak chest and that secret gnawing pain in his head it was a fearfulness which his manner of life only tended to increase surrounded though he was by nothing but love and admiration in the world he could not divest himself of the fear that all which is most horrible and terrible would burst suddenly upon him and so he gazed fixedly before him he passed his hand over his face and with an effort concentrated his looks and thoughts upon surrounding objects saying to himself almost aloud how comforting is light where there no light from without to illumine objects for us we should perish and gloom in the shadows of night and light is a gentle friend that watches by us and when we are sunk in sorrow points out to us that the world is still here that it calls and beckons us and requires of us duty and truffleness you must not be lost himself it says see the world is still here and a friend beside us is as a light which illumines surrounding objects we cannot forget them we must see them and mingle with them how hard is life and how little I accomplish I would feign awake in the whole world to goodness and to love but my voice is weak and my strength is insufficient house insignificant is all I do and now he rose up and strode across the room and he stood at the hearth where the fire was burning made of wood given to him that very day and his thoughts reverted to the man who had given yet why had he not asked his name and where he came from perchance he might have been able in thought to follow him all the way as he drove home and now ah but yet his more his better as it is it is not an individual it is not so and so who has shown this gratitude but all the world by the mouth of one the kindnesses I receive he thought are indeed trials but yet I ought to accept them with thanks I will try henceforth to be a benefactor to others as others are to me without display and with grateful thanks to God our highest benefactor this will I do and search no further for the why and for the wherefor and once more a voice spoke within him and he stood erect and raised his arms on high who knows he thought whether this moment I have not been in this or that place to this or that man a brother a friend a comforter a savior and from house to house may be my spirit travels awakening enlivening refreshing yonder in the attic where burns a solitary light and afar in some village a mother is sitting by her child and hearing him repeat the thoughts I have arranged in verse and per adventure some solitary old man who is waiting for death is now sitting by his fireside and his lips are uttering my words and yonder in the church the quietest chanting a hymn of yours could you have written this hymn without its vigor in your heart oh no it must be there and with trembling he thought there is nothing so small as to have no place in the government of god should you not then believe that he suffered this day's incident to happen for your joy oh were it so what happiness were yours a heart renewed he moved to the window looked up to heaven and prayed inwardly my soul is with my brothers and my sisters nay it is with thee my god and in humility I acknowledge how richly thou hast blessed me and if in the kingdom of the world you come a soul should cry to me thou didst guide and cheer me on to happiness eternal all hail my friend my benefactor my glory in the presence of god in these thoughts let me die and pardon me my witness in my sins and the evening and morning were the first day at early morning gelert was sitting at his table and reading according to his invariable custom first of all in the bible he never left the bible open he always shut it with a peaceful devotional air after he had read therein there was something grateful as well as a reverential in his manner of closing the volume the holy words should not lie uncovered today however the bible was lying open when he rose his eyes fell upon the history of the creation and at the words and the evening and the morning were the first day he leaned back his head against the armchair and kept his hand upon the book as though he should grasp with his hand also the lofty thought how night and day were divided for a long while he set thus and he was wondrously bright in spirit and a soft reminiscence dawned upon him of a bright day in childhood when he had been so happy and inhanishing his native place had gone out with his father for a walk an inward warmth roused his heart to quicker pulsation and suddenly he started and looked about him he had been humming a tune up from the street came the busy sound of jay at other times how insufferable he found it and how now how joyous it seemed that men could be stir themselves and turn to all sorts of occupations there was a sound of crumbling snow and how nice to have a house and a blaze upon the earth and the evening and the morning were the first day and man getteth himself a light in the darkness but how long oh man could you make it endure what could you do with your artificial light if god did not cause his sun to shine without it grows no grass no corn on the hen line upon the book there fell a bright sunbeam how soon at other times would gellert have drawn the defensive curtain now he watches the little modes that play about in the sunbeam the servant brought coffee and the aminusis godicke asked if there were anything to do generally gellert scarcely lifted his head from his books hastily acknowledging the attention and running on in silence today he motioned to godicke to stay and said to sour another cup mr. godicke will take coffee with me god has given me a day of rejoicing sour brought the cup and gellert said yes god has given me a day of rejoicing and what I am most thankful for is that he has granted me strength to thank him with all my heart not so entirely however as I should like thank god mr professor that you are once more in health and cheerful and permit me mr professor to tell you that I was myself also ill a short time ago and then I learned a lesson which I shall never forget who is most grateful the convalescent he learns to love god and his beautiful world anew he is grateful for everything and delighted with everything what a flavor has his first cup of coffee how he enjoys his first walk outside the house outside the gate the houses the trees all give us greeting all is again in us full of health and joy so said godicke and gellert rejoined you are a good creature and have just spoken good words certainly the convalescent is the most grateful we are however for the most part sick in spirit and have not the strength to recover and a sickly stricken spirit is the heaviest pain long time the two set quietly together it struck eight gellert started up and cried irritably there now you have allowed me to forget that I must be on my way to the university the vacation hasn't begun mr professor has no lecture today no lecture today ah and I believe today is just the time when I could have told my young friends something that would have benefited them for the whole lives there was a shuffling of many feet outside the door the door open and several boys from saint thomas school choir advanced and sang to gellert some of his own hymns and as they chanted the verse and happily there oh granted heaven some blessed saint will greet me too all hail all hail to you was given to save my life and soul to you oh god my god what joy to be the winner of a soul to thee gellert wept aloud folded his hands and raised his eyes to heaven a happier christmas than that of 1768 at gellert never seen and it was his last scarcely a year after on the 13th of december 1769 gellert died a pious tyrannical death such as he had ever coveted as the long train which followed his beer moved to the churchyard of saint john's lipstick a peasant with his wife and children in holiday clothes entered among the last it was christopher with his family the whole way he had been silent and whilst his wife wept passionately at the pastor's touching address it was only by the working of his features that christopher showed how deeply moved he was but on the way home he said i am glad i did him a kindness in his lifetime it would now be too late the summer after when he built a new house he had this verse placed upon it as an inscription except god's gifts with resignation content to lack what thou has not in every lot there's consolation there's trouble too in every lot end of section two an end of the story christian gellert's last christmas section three of stories by foreign authors german authors volume two this is a liber vox recording all liber vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit liber vox.org recording by collin mcman stories by foreign authors german authors volume two by various a ghetto violet by leopold compare part one from christian and lea translated by a s arnold through the open window came the clear trail of a canary singing blithely in its cage within the tidy homely little room a pale-faced girl and a youth of slender frame listened intently while the bird sang its song the girl was the first to break the silence efram my brother she said what is it dear viola i wonder does the birdie know that it is the sabbath today what a child you are answered efram yes that's always the way when you clever men can't explain a thing you simply dismiss the question by calling it childish viola exclaimed is though quite angry and pray why shouldn't the bird know the whole week it's scarcely sang a note today it warbles and warbles so that it makes my headache and what's the reason every sabbath it's just the same i notice it regularly shall i tell you what my idea is the whole week long the little bird looks into our room and sees nothing but the humdrum of a work a day life today it sees the bright rays of the sabbath lamp and the white sabbath cloth upon the table don't you think i'm right efram wait dear viola said efram and he went to the cage the bird song suddenly ceased now you've spoiled it sabbath cried the girl and she was so excited that the book which had been lying upon her lap fell to the ground efram turned towards her he looked at her solemnly and said quietly pick up your prayer book first and then i'll answer a holy book should not be on the ground like that had our mother dropped her prayer book she would have kissed it kiss it viola my child viola did so and now i'll tell you dear viola what i think is the reason why the bird sings so blightly today of course i don't say i'm right viola's brown eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her brother's face how seriously you talked today she said making a feeble attempt at a smile i was only joking musn't i ask if the bird knows anything about the sabbath there are subjects it is sinful to joke about and this may be one of them viola you've really quite frightened me efram you little goose i don't want to frighten you said efram while a faint flush suffused his features i'll tell you my opinion about the singing of the bird i think dear viola that our little canary knows that before long it will change its quarters you're surely not going to sell it or give it away cried the girl in great alarm and springing to her feet she quickly drew her brother away from the cage no i'm not going to sell it nor give it away said efram whose quiet bearing contrasted strongly with his sister's excitement is it likely that i should do anything that would give you pain and yet i have but to say one word and i'll wager that you will be the first to open the cage and say to the bird fly fly away birdie fly away home never never cried the girl viola said efram beseechingly i have taken a vow surely you would not have me break it a vow asked his sister viola efram continued as he bent his head down to the girl's face i have vowed to myself that whenever he our father should return i would give our little bird its freedom it shall be free free as he will be efram he's coming he's already on his way home viola flung her arms around her brother's neck for a long time brother and sister remained locked in a close embrace meanwhile the bird resumed its jubilant song do you hear how it sings again said efram and he gently stroked his sister's hair it knows it will soon be free a father out of jail sobbed viola as she released herself from her brother's arms he has had his punishment dear viola said efram softly viola turned away there was a painful silence and then she looked up at her brother again her face was aglow her eyes sparkled with a strange fire she was trembling with agitation never before had efram seen her thus efram my brother she commenced in that measured monotone so peculiar to intense emotion with the bird you can do as you please you can set it free or if you like you can wring its neck but as for him i'll never look in his face again for me he shall not have a word of welcome he broke our mother's heart our good good mother he has dishonored himself and us and i can never forget it is it right for a child to talk like that of her own father said efram in a tremulous voice when a child has good cause to be ashamed of her own father cried viola oh my viola you must have forgotten dear mother's dying words don't she remember as she opened her eyes for the last time how she gathered up her failing strength and raising herself in her bed children she said my memory will protect you both yay and your father too viola have you forgotten had you entered that little room an hour later a touching sight would have met your eyes viola was seated on her brother's knee her arms around his neck whilst efram with the gentle love of a brother for a younger sister was stroking her hair and whispering in her ears sweet words of solace the bird cage was empty that evening efram sat up till midnight outside in the ghetto reigned to the stillness of night all at once efram rose from his chair walked to the old bureau which stood near the door opened it and took from it a bulky volume which he laid upon the table in front of him but he did not seem at all bent upon reading he began fingering the pages until he came upon a bundle of banknotes and these he proceeded to count with a whispering movement of his lips he had but three or four more notes still to count when his sharp ear detected the sound of stealthy footsteps in the little courtyard in the front of the house closing the book and hastily putting it back again in the old bureau efram sprung to the window and opened it is that you father he cried there was no answer efram repeated his question he strained his eyes peering into the dense darkness but no living thing could he see then quite close to him a voice cried make no noise and first put out the light heavens father it is you then efram exclaimed hush came in a whisper from without first put out the light efram closed the window and extinguished the light then with almost inaudible step he walked out of the room into the dark passage noiselessly he proceeded to unbolt the street door almost at the same moment a heavy hand clasped his own father father efram cried trying to raise his parents hand to his lips make no noise the man repeated in a somewhat commanding tone with his father's hand in his cautiously feeling his way efram led him into the room in the room adjoining lay viola sleeping peacefully time was when wild asher's welcome home had been far otherwise 18 years before upon that very threshold which he now crossed with halting stealthy steps as of a thief in the night stood a fair and loving wife holding a sturdy lad aloft in her arms so that the father might at once see as he turned the street corner that wife and child were well and happy not another ghetto in all bohemia could show a handsomer and happier couple than asher and his wife wild asher was one of those intrepid venturesome spirits to whom no obstacle is so great that it cannot be surmounted and the success which crowned his long persistent willing was often cited as striking testimony to his indomitable will gudela was famous throughout the ghetto as the girl with the wonderful eyes eyes so the saying ran into which no man could look and think of evil during the earlier years of their married life those unfathomable brown eyes exercised on asher the full power of their fascination a time came however when he alleged that those very eyes had been the cause of all his ruin gudela's birthplace was far removed from the ghetto where asher had first seen the light her father was a wealthy farmer in a secluded village in lower bohemia but distant though it was from the nearest town of any importance the solitary range became the center of attraction to all the young swans far and near but there was none who found favor in gudela's eyes save wild asher in spite of many a friendly warning to beware of him one day just before the betrothal of the young people an anonymous letter was delivered at the grange the writer who called himself an old friend and treated the farmer to prevent his dear child from becoming the wife of one who was suspected of being a gambler the farmer was of an easygoing indulgent nature shunning care and anxiety as a very plague accordingly no sooner had he read the anonymous missive than he handed it to his daughter as though its contents were no concern of his when gudela had read the letter to the end she merely remarked father this concerns me and nobody else and so the matter dropped not until the wedding day half an hour before the ceremony when the marriage canopy had already been erected in the courtyard did the farmer sum up the carriage to revert to the warning of the unknown letter writer taking his future son in law aside he said asher is it true that you gamble father asher answered with equal firmness gudela's eyes will save me asher had uttered no untruth when he gave his father in law this assurance he spoke in all earnestness for like everyone else he knew the magnetic power of gudela's eyes nowhere probably does the grim consuming pestilence of gaming claim more victims than in the ghetto the ravages of drink and debauchery are slight indeed but the tortuous streets can show too many a humble home haunted by the specters of ruin and misery which stalked across the threshold when the first card game was played it was with almost feverish anxiety that the eyes of the ghetto were fixed upon the development of a character like asher's they followed his every step with the closest attention long experience had taught the ghetto that no gambler could be trusted as though conscious that all eyes were upon him asher showed himself most punctilious in the discharge of even the minutest of communal duties which devolved upon him as a denizen of the ghetto and his habits of life were almost ostentatiously regular and decorous his business had prospered and gudela had borne him a son well gudela my child the farmer asked his daughter on the day when his grandson was received into the covenant of abraham well gudela was the letter right what letter asked gudela that in which your husband was called a gambler can you still give a thought to such a letter was gudela's significant reply three years later gudela's father came to visit her this time she showed him his second grandchild her little viola he kissed the children and round viola's neck clasped three rows of pearls that the child may know it had a grandfather once and where are your pearls gudela he asked those left you by your mother may she rest in peace she always set such store by them those father gudela replied turning pale oh my my husband has taken them to a goldsmith in prog they require a new clasp i see remarked her father not withstanding his limited powers of observation it did not escape the old man's eyes that gudela looked alarmingly wan and emaciated he saw it and it grieved his very soul he said nothing however only when leaving and after he had kissed the mizusa footnote small cylinder enclosing a roll of parchment inscribed with the hebrew word shaddai almighty and with other texts which is affixed to the lintel of every jewish house and a footnote he said to gudela who with little viola in her arms went with him to the door in a voice quivering with suppressed emotion gudela my child the pearl necklace which i have given your little viola has a class strong enough to last a hundred years you need never therefore give it to your husband to have a new clasp made for it and without bestowing another glance upon his child the easygoing man left the house it was his last visit within the year gudela received a letter from her eldest brother telling her that their father was dead and that she would have to keep the week of mourning for him ever since his last visit to her her brother wrote the old man had been somewhat ailing but knowing his vigorous constitution they had paid little heed to his complaints it was only during the last few weeks that a marked loss of strength had been noticed this was followed by fever and delirium whenever he was asked whether he would not like to see gudela his only answer was she must not give away the clasp of little viola's necklace and but an hour before his death he raised his voice and loudly called for the letter nobody knew what letter gudela knows where it is he said with a gentle shake of his head those were the last words he spoke had the old man's eyes deceived him on the occasion of his last visit to his son-in-law's house no for setting aside the incident of the missing pearls the whole ghetto could long since have told him that the warning of the anonymous letter was not unfounded for gudela was the wife of the gambler with the resistless impetuosity of a torrent released from its prison of ice and snow the old invincible disease had again overwhelmed its victim gudela noticed the first signs of it when one day her husband returned home from one of his business journeys earlier than he had arranged gudela had not expected him why did you not come to meet me with the children he cried previously do you begrudge me even that pleasure i begrudge you a pleasure gudela ventured to remark as she raised her swimming eyes to his face why do you look at me so tearfully he almost shouted asher loved his wife and when he saw the effect which his rough words had produced he tenderly embraced her am i not right gudela he said after a man has been working in slaving the live long week don't you think he looks forward with longing eyes for his dear children to welcome him at his door at that moment gudela felt the long latent suspicion revive in her that her husband was not speaking the truth as if written in characters of fire the words of that letter now came back to her memory she knew now what was the fate that awaited her and her children thence forward all the characteristic tokens of a gambler's life all the vicissitudes which attend to his unholy calling followed close upon each other in grim succession most marked was the disturbance which his mental equilibrium was undergoing fits of gloomy despondency were succeeded with alarming rapidity by periods of tumultuous exaltation one moment it would seem as though gudela and the children were to him the living embodiment of all that was precious and lovable whilst at other times he would regard them with solemn indifference it soon became evident to gudela that her husband's affairs were in a very bad way for her housekeeping allowance no longer came to her with its wanted regularity but what grieved and alarmed her most was the fact that asher was openly neglecting every one of his religious duties to return home late on Friday night long after sunset had ushered in the Sabbath was now a common practice once even it happened that with his clothes covered with dust he came home from one of his business tours on a Sabbath morning when the people in holiday attire were wending their way to the synagogue nevertheless not a sound of complaint escaped gudela's lips hers was one of those proud sensitive natures such as are to be met with among all classes and amid all circumstances of life in ghetto and in secluded village no less than among the most favored ones of the earth had she not cast to the winds the well-intentioned council given her in that unsigned letter why then should she complain and lament now that the seed had borne fruit she shrank from alluding before her husband to the passion which day by day nay hour by hour tightened its hold upon him she would have died sooner than permit the word gambler to pass her lips besides did not her eyes tell asher what she suffered those very eyes were according to asher the causes rapid journey along the road to ruin why do you look at me so gudela he would testily ask her at the slightest provocation often when as he explained he had had especially good week he would bring home the costliest gifts for his children gudela however made no use whatever of these trinkets neither for herself nor for the children she put the things away in drawers and cupboards and never looked at them more especially as she observed that under some pretext or other asher generally took those glittering things away again in order to exchange them for others he said as often as not never replacing them at all gudela he said one day when he happened to be in a particularly good humor why do you let the key remain in the door of that bureau where you keep so many valuables and again gudela regarded him with those unfathomable eyes there you're looking at me again he exclaimed with sudden vehemence they're safe enough in the cupboard gudela said smiling why should i lock it gudela do you mean to say he cried raising his hand as for a blow then he fell back in his chair and his frame was shaken with sobs gudela my heart's love he cried i'm not worthy that your eyes should rest on me everywhere wherever i go they look at me those eyes and that is my ruin if business is bad your eyes ask me why did you mix yourself up with these things without a thought of wife or children then i feel as if some evil spirit possessed me and tortured my soul oh why can't you look at me again as you did when you were my bride then you looked so happy so lovely at other times i think i shall yet grasp fortune with both hands and then i can face my gudela's eyes again but now now don't look at me gudela there spoke the self-approaching voice which sometimes burst forth unbidden from a suffering soul as for gudela she already knew how to appreciate this cry of her husband's conscience at its true value it was not that she felt one moment's doubt as to its sincerity but she knew that so far as it affected the future it was a mere cry and nothing more the years rolled on the children were growing up afram had entered his 15th year viola was a little pale girl of 12 in the opinion of the ghetto they were the most extraordinary children in the world in the midst of the harassing life to which her marriage with the gambler had brought her gudela so reared them that they grew to be living reflections of her own in most being people wondered when they beheld the strange development of wild asher's children their natures were as proud and reserved as that of their mother they did not associate with the youth of the ghetto it seemed as though they were not of their kind as though an insurmountable barrier divided them and many a bitter sneer was hurled at gudela's head does she imagine she often heard people whisper that because her father was a farmer her children are princes let her remember that her husband is but a common gambler how different would have been their thoughts had they known that the children were gudela's soul comfort what their father had never heard from her she poured into their youthful souls no tear their mother shed was unobserved by them they knew when their father had lost and when he had won they knew too all the varying moods of his unhinged mind and in this terrible school of misery they acquired an instinctive intelligence which in the eyes of strangers seemed mere precocity the two children however had early given evidence of a marked difference in disposition ephrem's nature was one of an almost feminine gentleness while viola was strong-willed and proudly reserved mother she said one day do you think that he will continue to play much longer viola how can you talk like that ephrem cried greatly disturbed there upon viola impetuously flung her arms around her mother's neck and for some moments she clung to her with all the strength of her passionate nature it was as though in that wild embrace she would feign poor forth the long pent-up sorrows of her blighted childhood mother she cried you are so good to him never never shall we have such kindness from me ephrem said gudela speak to your sister in her sinful anger viola would revenge herself upon her own father does it so beseem a jewish child why does he treat you so cruelly then viola almost hissed the words soon after fell the final crushing blow asher had been away from home for some weeks when one day gudela received a letter dated a prison in the neighborhood of vienna in words of genuine sympathy the writer explained that asher had been unfortunate enough to forge the signature to a bill she would not see him again for the next five years god comfort her the letter was signed a fellow sufferer with your husband as it had been with her old father after he had bitten her last farewell so it was now with gudela from that moment her days were numbered and although not a murmur escaped her lips hour by hour she wasted away one friday evening shortly after the seven branched sabbath lamp had been lit gudela seated in her armchair out of which she had not moved all day called the two children to her a bright smile hovered around her lips an unwanted fire burned in her still beautiful eyes her bosom heaved in the eyes of her children she seemed strangely changed children said she come and stand by me ephrem you stand here on my right and you dear viola on my left i would like to tell you a little story such as they tell little children to sue them to sleep shall i mother they both cried as they bent towards her you must not interrupt me children she observed still with that strange smile on her lips but leave me to tell my little story in my own way listen children she resumed after a brief pause every human being be he ever so wicked if he have done but a single good deed on earth will when he arrives above in the seventh heaven get his sachas that is to say the memory of the good he has done here below will be remembered and rewarded bountifully by the almighty gudela see speaking suddenly a change came over her features her breath came and went in labored gasps but her brown eyes still gleamed brightly in tones well nigh and audible she continued when Jerusalem the holy city was destroyed the dead rose up out of their graves the holy patriarchs abraham isek and jacob and also moses and aron his brother and david the king and prostrating themselves before god's throne they sobbed thus they'll not remember the deeds we have done which they'll now utterly destroy all these our children even to the innocent babe at the breast but the almighty was inexorable then sarah our mother approached the throne when god beheld her he covered his face and wept go said he i cannot listen to thee but she exclaimed dost thou no longer remember the tears i shed before i gave birth to my joseph and benjamin and dost thou not remember the day when they buried me yonder on the borders of the promised land and now must my eyes behold the slaughter of my children their disgrace and their captivity then god cried for thy sake while i remember thy children and spare them would you like to know gutala suddenly cried with an uplifted voice what the sechis is like it has the form of an angel and it stands near the throne of the almighty but since the days of rachel our mother it is the sechis of the mother that finds the most favor in god's eyes when a mother dies her soul straightway soars heavenward and there it takes its place among the others who art thou asks god i am the sechis of a mother is the answer of a mother who has left children behind her on earth then do thou stand here and keep guard over them says god and when it is well with the children it is the sechis of a mother which has caused them to prosper and when evil days befall them it is again the angel who stands before god and pleads dost thou forget these children no longer have a mother and the evil is averted gutala's voice had sunk to a mere whisper her eyes closed her head fell back her breathing became slower and more labored are you still there children she softly whispered anxiously they bent over her then once again she opened her eyes i see you still the words came with difficulty from her blanched lips you ephrom and you my little viola i am sure my sechis will plead for you for you and your father they were gutala's last words when her children whose eyes had never as yet been confronted with death called her by her name covering her icy hands with burning kisses their mother was no more who can tell what influence causes the downtrodden blade to raise itself once more is it the vivifying breath of the west wind or a mysterious power sent forth from the bosom of mother earth it was a touching sight to see how these two children crushed as they were beneath the weight of a twofold blow raised their heads again and in their very desolation found newborn strength and it filled the ghetto with wonder for what were they but the offspring of a gambler or was it the spirit of gutala their mother that lived in them after gutala's death her eldest brother the then owner of the grange came over to discuss the future of his sister's children he wished ephrom and viola to go with him to his home in lower bohemia where he could find the occupation the children however were opposed to the idea they had taken no previous council together yet upon this point both were in perfect accord they would prefer to be left in their old home when father comes back again said ephrom he must know where to find us but to you uncle gavriel he will never come the uncle then insisted that viola at least should accompany him for he had daughters at home whom she could assist in their duties in the house and on the farm but the child clung to ephrom and with flaming eyes and in a voice of proud disdain which filled the simple farmer with something like terror she cried uncle you have enough to do to provide for your own daughters don't let me be an additional burden upon you besides sooner what i wonder destitute through the world than be separated for my brother and what do you propose to do then exclaimed the uncle after he had somewhat recovered from his astonishment at viola's vehemence you see uncle gavriel said ephrom a sudden flush over spreading his grief-stricken features you see i've thought about it and i've come to the conclusion that this is the best plan viola shall keep house and i i'll start a business you start a business cried the uncle with a loud laugh perhaps you can tell me what price i'll get for my oats next market day a business and what business my lad uncle said ephrom if i dispose of all that has left us i shall have enough money to buy a small business others in our position have done the same and then well and then the uncle cried eagerly anticipating his answer then the sachets of our mother will come to our aid ephrom said softly the farmer's eyes grew dim with moisture his sister had been very dear to him as i live he cried brushing his hand across his eyes you are the true children of my sister gudela that's all i can say end of section three recording by colleen mcman


My name is Orlando, and I'm part of the digital arts and team here at the Berklee Museum Our next artist is another special woman. You see there comes a point in a young person's life Where they have to answer the elusive question, what are you going to do for the rest of your life? And to be honest with you, I haven't answered that question yet But when I look at Dengue McCannon's life, I see an African-American woman who by no means limited herself Born on July 31st 1947 and raised in Harlem, New York That's right She was inspired to become an artist at the age of 10 and since has become a Author an illustrator a custom designer a muralist a printmaker and Much more in addition. She has appeared on various group shows It was part of the first group show a professional black woman artist here in New York City where we at Interestingly in all of her achievements, I have noticed that her works have stayed grounded on who she is a black African-American artist That's what I love about Dengue McCannon that she doesn't shy away from her love of her city her culture and who she is Mrs. Dengue McCannon, thank you for your work and your life and thank you for helping me answer that elusive question Please welcome Dengue McCannon So I have to ask a question that I didn't plan. Okay. Who are you wearing? You want to hear the whole story? Yes Okay I was in the Tate Museum in London last October And I was talking with one of the curators about upcoming African-American art show that they're planning one of the artists represented was Kay Brown and when they told me that I Got really I guess almost teary because I was very close to Kay And I was upset that she had passed before she saw this before she started her work was in the tape So when I came back I started thinking about where we at and this show and I said well I know everybody's not gonna be in the show so but I don't really feel right just me being here from where we at So I says, you know what I'm gonna create a piece I'm gonna put everybody's name on it and in this way we'll all come into the Brooklyn Museum like this me so We had like 45 members possibly 50 over the 26th history of the group on the front here are the 11 members that I know of who have passed On the sleeves I've embroidered the names of the 46 artists who were in the group over that period of time and then on the back I've put up posters letters and other things relevant to the group So I've achieved my goal Okay, I'm a curator that belongs in a museum Tell us about where we at where we at I Believe was the first woman's black women's artists collective founded in 1971 by myself Kay Brown and Faith Ringo and it started because I put out a call to Kay And asked her were there other women artists because at that time I was exhibiting As an artist, but I felt a little isolated because they weren't a lot of women Like for example where you see artists who I started with in 1965 or so When we had that first show at the St. Nicholas projects They seem like there were a lot of women, but by the time the winter came they had all disappeared and I was left Being the only woman member of where you see artists collective so I put out the core Faith put out the core Kay put out the core and They everybody agreed to meet at my studio, which was in the lower east side top floor Really bad building the day of the first meeting There were no lights in the house. I mean in the whole Apartment building. There was water dripping and yet women still came from that first meeting We decided that there was it was better for us to work as a group because we could accomplish more and I had exhibited at acts of art through a friend of mine Ellsworth Orsby who had commenced convinced Nigel that it was okay to let a woman to show because in those days women as artists was like a person non grata We were told that oh, you're just doing this and then you're gonna go off and have a family and forget all about your art and blah blah blah blah it wasn't a Profession that women were encouraged to deal with so but from that one show the show got so much Publicity we decided to stay together and over the years We Stay together. We did exhibitions all over. We got our 501 C Papers, so we were able to get funds. We did we were a very community based Organization we would go out into shelters into schools into parks and teach all manners of art and the unique thing about Where we at as an art group is that it did not disinclude visual artists included musicians and included bookkeepers and included Photographers and included dancers. We included any art form that there was you will always welcome and where we have and you did everything from thinking about child care to thinking about inviting people in to talk about how to Professionalize your portfolio or different sort of aspects of how to be an active working artist while you're still Having a family and raising kids and having a job. Yeah, cuz that that's really what made the difference People forget that back in the day the woman was Given the total task of child care of raising a child along with running the house That was solely a woman's domain and one of the reasons a lot of women didn't become artists is because that takes a lot of time And you don't really have much time left unless like me and some other and saying people we just don't sleep You just kind of work around it, but it's difficult. Did you work in a studio? Did you work out of your apartment? I always worked out of my apartment I did have a residency in the early days at the Henry Street settlement But I didn't really like Residencies because you have to get up you have to put your clothes on then you have to go out in the street Face all those crazy people on your way to the studio when you work in the studio. You just get up That makes sense We love this photograph. I can't really remember where we were But that was probably most of the group at that particular time and judging by the youthful look on These wonderful people it was probably around 75 great photograph Also, one of our favorite pieces of ephemera from the show What a great exhibition cooking and smoking. Yeah, and not only was it a great exhibition because one of the things about the feminist issue and Black women issue is that we did not want to separate ourselves from the men. This was hosted at where you see Gallery and myself and Kay were the only women members to this day Of the gallery and they were very supportive of us And you did an exhibition called one plus one equals three which is also a lot around the idea of family and yeah Bring in everybody along true and it was also great because we did a lot of installations. We did Installations way before anybody else that I can think of did installation You also understand we're the first to have real food at your openings. Yes, because Wine and cheese don't really get it And the other thing is is that a lot of us particularly artists we Food was kind of a scarcity So we would go to openings to fill up for the evening and since all of us This was very natural we cooked we just started cooking at the art shows and we found that that brought even more people in because now Not only their heart is food This is one of the the works that the Brooklyn Museum was lucky enough to acquire several years ago as part of our black arts movement collection and It is a piece that I have grown to love over the past few months working at it worth it looking at it Living with it. I wondered if you could tell us a little bit about your What you envisioned when you made this piece? Okay, now first of all remember I figured out yesterday that I create this piece Well, I was 24 so it's okay. If I don't remember everything 24 years old yeah, I was floored myself, but anyway I Believe I created this because at the time the roles of women were so limited and I felt that women should be able to do everything women can do everything women can also lead Revolutions so you see this woman in her stance. She's a revolutionary sister Her head headpiece I've often been questioned about because they asked me if I was trying to decapitate her No, I wasn't the top of it falls down Because I don't drive I drove once in my lifetime I don't drive today and I had to transport these pieces So to make it feasible and I can't remember how I figured out how to do that I put a hinge on her head so the head head would Fall down. I mean would flow down rather than fall off Where were you carrying it? Hmm? How are we in like not in a car? No, I didn't have a car so you carried it like I depended on cabs and the generosity of friends and People don't always you know if you have something that's problematic you have a problem getting it from one place to the other so I Made the head so it went down our conservator is going to be interested in this story Our cons our conservator is going to be interested in this story. I told her okay Yeah, okay, and it's also she's Constructed out of nails screws all kinds of things in the hardware store which also during that time We really weren't welcome in the hardware store. So sometimes I would go in there just to work their last nerve Started collecting all these I found the metal pieces I was drawn to and all the different shapes and sizes of the screws and I started making these Symbolizes and this was one of them that belt that she is wearing was My version of a belt that a lot of we a lot of us wore at that particular time Probably inspired by the black rotation movies a bandolier. Huh a bandolier. Yeah, and What women were wearing was real belts, but they had the with the bullets But the powder was taken out somebody had told me some of those belts have come from the Vietnam War and I couldn't afford one. So I found The Chinese had come up with a cheap Invitation so I bought one I wore it for a while and then as I was constructing this piece. I said well What could is a warrior and you don't have any artillery? So I put the belt on that And I also love you said that the um the top is also you're you're thinking about the top Was made from flag poles The that had found probably in the garbage a whole bunch of flags I cut off took the flags off and then the pole did you give him to faith? Hmm. No No, but I remember faith had gotten arrested and had gone down to the tunes and all that so that was probably in my mind while I was doing this and I kind of made it in reference to the Statue of Liberty because I said everybody come well Now a lot of people come to America through the Statue of Liberty We are born here, and we don't have those same rights so That's why that's up there your revolutionary sister is a Statue of Liberty Our Statue of Liberty and she's not standing near this placid she's ready for action Thank you, Dinga. Thank you very much


A lot of what I'm going to share tonight is I like to cross, um, a little boundaries in my work. Um, as someone who is not really, uh, I don't have an artist studio. I use my, um, kitchen. I use my bedroom, right? Like as a trans person of color, I don't have a lot of access to, like, physical space. Um, and then that kind of ripples to the broader, um, QT, POC communities here in the Bay Area. Um, as, uh, gentrification is rapidly changing. Like, increasing on our communities. Where, where do we find space? Um, and how do we fill gaps in history? And what does it mean to fill a gap? What do we use to fill a gap? Should we fill a gap or can we create other frameworks? Um, so I'm going to be presenting kind of an art history presentation, um, using, uh, David Desiree Sabato's scrapbooks, which are in the San Francisco History Center upstairs. You can check them out when they're open. I think most days of the week. Um, Mason, thank you so much for collecting all of the materials for us. Um, if you ever, uh, work with the residency, like Mason, like you choose, you chose like a list of 20 things. I think I only looked at like three. And also one of the videos didn't work either. So, so I don't think that was your fault. That might have been, I don't know who's fault that was. Desiree David Sabato. Where is she? He now. I'm not sure where she or he is or what happened to her or him after their last drag show in San Francisco in the 1980s. When I was flipping through the Desiree scrapbooks for this presentation, I started thinking about the many functions of a scrapbook full of photographs. What do we use scrapbooks for? What is, what does it mean to use a scrapbook? One of the photographs that I chose is David Desiree in her most brilliant regalia juxtaposed against a tree and an image of me on a bar train going to Oakland. Um, it kind of represents the movement. Most of what Desiree has in the archives is only two scrapbooks. And all I know about her and all that's available is that she used to live in San Francisco in the 80s and she moved to the Midwest for some reason. And then she lived her life. And I think that's, that's, that's kind of the basis of this presentation. Um, as I was thinking about the photographs and the two scrapbooks that I was looking at, I thought about what were the original functions that we use photographs for? One of those happened to be we use them to perverse, preserve the memory of the dead to remind humans of our mortality and impermanence. They called it, uh, Europeans and Americans called it a postmortem photography, Momental Maury. Families would basically gather around their loved ones, um, who had just passed away and take a selfie with them. Like literally dressing their deceased auntie or cousin or child in their best clothing, um, and curated a stage for them for their final performance. They say that doing so would help the family psychologically with their own grief process. This is a picture of, uh, former president Marcos, um, in the coffin and they recently, uh, had a giant parade in the Philippines celebrating this dictator. Um, I find this to be a certain kind of creepy drag show. Yeah, hope you too. Anyways, uh, flipping through the Desiree, the Desiree scrapbooks made me think of how as a trans person of color, I was doing more than just looking at photos. It was remembering someone's physical presence, but more of that. It was almost, uh, embodiment, a kind of memory that runs in the water. And they say that water makes up 80% of our bodies. So that's a lot of memory, including our brains. Looking at Desiree, looking back at me, recognizing myself, seeing a future memory, seeing my communities reflected in hear-story, hear-story, our-story, is an act of healing across generations. Medicine for my own healing as a non-binary, trans-masculin-ish person whose roots exist across thousands of islands in the Philippine exodiaspora. Like Desiree David Sabattle, I am from Cebu, Manila, Palawan, the Visayas, Maui, Honolulu, Malaysia, China, Japan. Like Desiree David Sabattle, I am Bakla, Binalaki, Bayog, Babailan, Bayoguin, Babailalaki, Gender Crossing Magic Maker. The only thing I said at the beginning that we know about Desiree David Sabattle is that she was from Hawaii. Somehow made her way to San Francisco and worked as a stripper before doing drag in San Francisco and Oakland in places like Esta Noche. Hey! And Benchen Bar, which was in Oakland. But what I significantly remember through flipping through the scrapbooks is that she was drag royalty. Her name Sabattle, and I'm assuming that's Filipino because a lot of Filipino people in Hawaii have the last name Sabattle, is connected, I think, somewhat to my own personal story. Many of my Filipinx diaspora communities worked in Hawaii, pineapple plantations, pineapple canning factories. My great grandparents worked at a pineapple canning factory in Hawaii before they moved here to California. So Desiree David Sabattle, were you one of my ancestors? When I was nine, I remember digging through an old cabinet in my parents' room looking for a photo of the stillborn baby that my parents had a year before I was born. It wasn't a pretty picture, just an image of a fetus against a white background. Looking back, it makes sense why my mom would keep it, even though it was traumatic to look at. Looking at the photograph may have helped her make sense of loss, of something never returning, or maybe something beyond comprehension.  A year after the miscarriage, she had a gender-fabulous son who was assigned female at birth. The week after I saw the Desiree scrapbooks, they were on my mind a lot, especially when I was cooking Filipino food. Cooking with my ancestral plants helps me remember that memories don't die without digital or physical form. The water and soil and plants hold memories too. In our age of Apple, photographic memories are a way to hold onto ourselves, who we want others to think we are. We live in a culture of forgetting, a culture of amnesia. Can a photo raise something or someone from the dead? Recessitate memory? Memories of certain sides of ourselves? Not really our full selves. We live in a culture of remembering and forgetting. Why do we remember? Why do we use photos to remember? To fill gaps in history? How does one fill a gap in history? Is it simply a matter of reinserting ourselves into a linear timeline? How can we use our images, our stories, to reimagine new kinds of timelines for our queer and trans histories here in this room? Part of this residency too, I am a visual artist, so I thought a lot about what do we leave behind when we go to the club? And during a period of time it was matchbooks. I have a collection of matchbooks that I got from my grandparents, and I started etching the places that Desiree would perform drag shows like Benchenbar and Oakland, and just her image to try to figure out, I don't know, who she was in relationship to me. David Sabato Desiree, where are you now? When your pictures fade, will you still be here? How can you hold in my memory, how can you stay in my memory, in ways that don't require a photograph?