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Mittwoch, 29. Dezember 2010

Brüderlein und Schwesterlein

William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850) findet in seiner Schwester Dorothy endlich jene Hausgefährtin, die sein Leben zur Ruhe bringt. Ihrer beider Zärtlichkeit füreinander, getragen von einer Gewogenheit der Manieren, ist außergewöhnlich und bezaubert die Umgebung. Sie sprechen voneinander in ausgesuchtester Zartheit, und schreiben sich innige Briefe:

Das schließliche Landhaus
der Wordsworth-Geschwister
"How much do I wish that each emotion of pleasue or pain that visits your heart should excite a simliar pleasure or a similar pain within me, by that sympathy which will almost identifiy us when we have stolen to our little cottage. (Ein Landhaus, das beide als Rückzugsort für sich erhoffen; Anm.) I will write to my uncle, and tell him that I cannot think, of going anywhere before I have been with you. Whatever answer he gives me, I certainly will make a point of once more mingling my transports with yours. Alas! my dear sister, how soon must this happiness expire; yet ehre are moments worth ages." 

Das schreibt William an seine Schwester. Und diese schreibt im selben Jahr1793 an eine Freundin: 

"I have strolled into a neighbouring meadow, where I am enjoying the melody of birds, and the busy sounds of a fine summer's evening. But oh! how imperfect is my pleasure whilst I am alone! Why are you not seated with me! and my dear William why is he not here also? I could almost fancy that I see you both near me. I hear you point out a spot, where if we could erect a little cottage and call it our own we should be the happiest of human beings. I see my brother fired with the idea of leading his sister to such a retreat. Our parlour is in a moment furnished, our garden is adorned by magic; the roses and honeysuckles spring at our command; the wood behind the house lifts its head, and furnishes us with a winter's shelter and al summer's noonday shade."

Und er schreibt ihr dann, im selben Jahr:

"Oh, my dear, dear sister! with what transport shall I again meet you! with what rapture shall I again wear out the day in your sight! ... I see you in a moment running, or rather flying, to my arms."

Sie, die ihn so kongenial fühlt, ohne seine poetische Ausdruckskraft zu haben, ist es, die ihn - in aller Unschuld - zu seinen ersten poetischen Höhenflügen befeuert. Es sind ihre Augen, die er beschreibt, ihre Stimme, die ihn inspiriert, ihre selbstlose, eifersuchtsfreie Art, sich ihm ganz zu widmen.

Birds in the bower, and lambs in the green field
Could they have known her, would have loved; methought
Her very presence such a sweetness breathed,
That flowers, and trees, and even the silent hills,
And everything she looked on, should have had
An intimation how she bore herself
Towards them, and to all creatures.

***

Und es sind ihre Empfindungen, die ihn mit ihr vibrieren lassen.

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears,
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart the fountain of sweet tears;
And love, and thought, and joy.





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