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diff --git a/old/1327-0.txt b/old/1327-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38d453f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4755 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1327 *** + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + +By Elizabeth Von Arnim + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION + + +Originally published in 1898, “Elizabeth and her German Garden” is the +first book by Marie Annette Beauchamp—known all her life as +“Elizabeth”. The book, anonymously published, was an incredible +success, going through printing after printing by several publishers +over the next few years. (I myself own three separate early editions of +this book by different publishers on both sides of the Atlantic.) The +present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated deluxe +MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. + +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer Katherine Mansfield +(whose real name was Kathleen Mansfield Beauchamp). Born in Australia, +Elizabeth was educated in England. She was reputed to be a fine +organist and musician. At a young age, she captured the heart of a +German Count, was persuaded to marry him, and went to live in Germany. +Over the next years she bore five daughters. After her husband’s death +and the decline of the estate, she returned to England. She was a +friend to many of high social standing, including people such as H. G. +Wells (who considered her one of the finest wits of the day). Some time +later she married the brother of Bertrand Russell; which marriage was a +failure and ended in divorce. Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at +the outbreak of the Second World War, and there died in 1941. + +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name “Elizabeth von +Arnim”, author of “The Enchanted April” which was recently made into a +successful film by the same title. Another of her books, “Mr. +Skeffington” was also once made into a film starring Bette Davis, circa +1940. + +Some of Elizabeth’s work is published in modern editions by Virago and +other publishers. Among these are: “Love”, “The Enchanted April”, +“Caravaners”, “Christopher and Columbus”, “The Pastor’s Wife”, “Mr. +Skeffington”, “The Solitary Summer”, and “Elizabeth’s Adventures in +Rugen”. Also published by Virago is her non-autobiography “All the Dogs +of My Life”—as the title suggests, it is the story not of her life, but +of the lives of the many dogs she owned; though of course it does touch +upon her own experiences. + +In the centennial year of this book’s first publication, I hope that +its availability through Project Gutenberg will stir some renewed +interest in Elizabeth and her delightful work. She is, I would venture, +my favorite author; and I hope that soon she will be one of your +favorites. + +R. McGowan San Jose, April 11 1998. + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + + + + +_May_ 7_th_.—I love my garden. I am writing in it now in the late +afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes and the +temptation to look at all the glories of the new green leaves washed +half an hour ago in a cold shower. Two owls are perched near me, and are +carrying on a long conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of +nightingales. The gentleman owl says [Music], and she answers from her +tree a little way off, [Music], beautifully assenting to and completing +her lord’s remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. +They say the same thing over and over again so emphatically that I think +it must be something nasty about me; but I shall not let myself be +frightened away by the sarcasm of owls. + +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived in the house, +much less in the garden, for twenty-five years, and it is such a pretty +old place that the people who might have lived here and did not, +deliberately preferring the horrors of a flat in a town, must have +belonged to that vast number of eyeless and earless persons of whom the +world seems chiefly composed. Noseless too, though it does not sound +pretty; but the greater part of my spring happiness is due to the scent +of the wet earth and young leaves. + +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are +servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring +happiness bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though +it is not more intense, and there were days last winter when I danced +for sheer joy out in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and +children. But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the +decencies. + +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches +sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white +blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding. I +never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place. Even +across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east, and right in +the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one, a picture +of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky. + +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, and beyond are great +stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, and where the forests leave +off the bare heath begins again; but the forests are beautiful in their +lofty, pink-stemmed vastness, far overhead the crowns of softest +gray-green, and underfoot a bright green wortleberry carpet, and +everywhere the breathless silence; and the bare heaths are beautiful +too, for one can see across them into eternity almost, and to go out on +to them with one’s face towards the setting sun is like going into the +very presence of God. + +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of bird-cherries and greenery +where I spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray +stone house with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. The +house is very old, and has been added to at various times. It was a +convent before the Thirty Years’ War, and the vaulted chapel, with its +brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, is now used as a hall. +Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more than once, as is +duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what was then +the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. The Lion +of the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly up to +his convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, who +were not without convictions of their own, sending them out on to the +wide, empty plain to piteously seek some life to replace the life of +silence here. + +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out across the +plain, with no obstacle in the shape of a hill, right away to a blue +line of distant forest, and on the west side uninterruptedly to the +setting sun—nothing but a green, rolling plain, with a sharp edge +against the sunset. I love those west windows better than any others, +and have chosen my bedroom on that side of the house so that even times +of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the young woman who +attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties about a +mistress recumbent in an easy-chair before an open window, and not to +profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. This girl is grieved +at my habit of living almost in the garden, and all her ideas as to the +sort of life a respectable German lady should lead have got into a sad +muddle since she came to me. The people round about are persuaded that +I am, to put it as kindly as possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the +news has travelled that I spend the day out of doors with a book, and +that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew or cook. But why cook when +you can get some one to cook for you? And as for sewing, the maids will +hem the sheets better and quicker than I could, and all forms of +needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for +keeping the foolish from applying their heart to wisdom. + +We had been married five years before it struck us that we might as +well make use of this place by coming down and living in it. Those five +years were spent in a flat in a town, and during their whole +interminable length I was perfectly miserable and perfectly healthy, +which disposes of the ugly notion that has at times disturbed me that +my happiness here is less due to the garden than to a good digestion. +And while we were wasting our lives there, here was this dear place +with dandelions up to the very door, all the paths grass-grown and +completely effaced, in winter so lonely, with nobody but the north wind +taking the least notice of it, and in May—in all those five lovely +Mays—no one to look at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more +wonderful masses of lilacs, everything glowing and blowing, the +virginia creeper madder every year, until at last, in October, the very +roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, the owls and the squirrels +and all the blessed little birds reigning supreme, and not a living +creature ever entering the empty house except the snakes, which got +into the habit during those silent years of wriggling up the south wall +into the rooms on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the +windows. All that was here,—peace, and happiness, and a reasonable +life,—and yet it never struck me to come and live in it. Looking back I +am astonished, and can in no way account for the tardiness of my +discovery that here, in this far-away corner, was my kingdom of heaven. +Indeed, so little did it enter my head to even use the place in summer, +that I submitted to weeks of seaside life with all its horrors every +year; until at last, in the early spring of last year, having come down +for the opening of the village school, and wandering out afterwards +into the bare and desolate garden, I don’t know what smell of wet earth +or rotting leaves brought back my childhood with a rush and all the +happy days I had spent in a garden. Shall I ever forget that day? It +was the beginning of my real life, my coming of age as it were, and +entering into my kingdom. Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, +quiet earth; leafless and sad and lonely enough out there in the damp +and silence, yet there I stood feeling the same rapture of pure delight +in the first breath of spring that I used to as a child, and the five +wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and the world was full of hope, +and I vowed myself then and there to nature, and have been happy ever +since. + +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought perhaps that +it might be as well to look after the place, consented to live in it at +any rate for a time; whereupon followed six specially blissful weeks +from the end of April into June, during which I was here alone, +supposed to be superintending the painting and papering, but as a +matter of fact only going into the house when the workmen had gone out +of it. + +How happy I was! I don’t remember any time quite so perfect since the +days when I was too little to do lessons and was turned out with sugar +on my eleven o’clock bread and butter on to a lawn closely strewn with +dandelions and daisies. The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its +charm, but I love the dandelions and daisies even more passionately now +than then, and never would endure to see them all mown away if I were +not certain that in a day or two they would be pushing up their little +faces again as jauntily as ever. During those six weeks I lived in a +world of dandelions and delights. The dandelions carpeted the three +lawns,—they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed out into +meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,—and under and among the +groups of leafless oaks and beeches were blue hepaticas, white +anemones, violets, and celandines in sheets. The celandines in +particular delighted me with their clean, happy brightness, so +beautifully trim and newly varnished, as though they too had had the +painters at work on them. Then, when the anemones went, came a few +stray periwinkles and Solomon’s Seal, and all the bird-cherries +blossomed in a burst. And then, before I had a little got used to the +joy of their flowers against the sky, came the lilacs—masses and masses +of them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees by the +side of walks, and one great continuous bank of them half a mile long +right past the west front of the house, away down as far as one could +see, shining glorious against a background of firs. When that time +came, and when, before it was over, the acacias all blossomed too, and +four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies flowered under the +south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, and thankful, and +grateful, that I really cannot describe it. My days seemed to melt away +in a dream of pink and purple peace. + +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, so +that on the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge what my +other half calls my _fantaisie déréglée_ as regards meals—that is to +say, meals so simple that they could be brought out to the lilacs on a +tray; and I lived, I remember, on salad and bread and tea the whole +time, sometimes a very tiny pigeon appearing at lunch to save me, as +the old lady thought, from starvation. Who but a woman could have stood +salad for six weeks, even salad sanctified by the presence and scent of +the most gorgeous lilac masses? I did, and grew in grace every day, +though I have never liked it since. How often now, oppressed by the +necessity of assisting at three dining-room meals daily, two of which +are conducted by the functionaries held indispensable to a proper +maintenance of the family dignity, and all of which are pervaded by +joints of meat, how often do I think of my salad days, forty in number, +and of the blessedness of being alone as I was then alone! + +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house was +left to emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered up +her rheumatic limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another +part of the house had been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave +the friendly frogs and owls, and with my heart somewhere down in my +shoes lock the door to the garden behind me, and pass through the long +series of echoing south rooms full of shadows and ladders and ghostly +pails of painters’ mess, and humming a tune to make myself believe I +liked it, go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the +creaking stairs, down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final +rush of panic whisk into my room and double lock and bolt the door! + +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great +dinner-bell to bed with me so that at least I might be able to make a +noise if frightened in the night, though what good it would have been I +don’t know, as there was no one to hear. The housemaid slept in another +little cell opening out of mine, and we two were the only living +creatures in the great empty west wing. She evidently did not believe +in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell asleep immediately after +getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, “_mais je les redoute_,” as +a French lady said, who from her books appears to have been +strongminded. + +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it comforted +me to see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights were anything but +placid, it was all so strange, and there were such queer creakings and +other noises. I used to lie awake for hours, startled out of a light +sleep by the cracking of some board, and listen to the indifferent +snores of the girl in the next room. In the morning, of course, I was +as brave as a lion and much amused at the cold perspirations of the +night before; but even the nights seem to me now to have been +delightful, and myself like those historic boys who heard a voice in +every wind and snatched a fearful joy. I would gladly shiver through +them all over again for the sake of the beautiful purity of the house, +empty of servants and upholstery. + +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful +new papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and +build all sorts of castles in the air about their future and their +past. Would the nuns who had lived in them know their little +white-washed cells again, all gay with delicate flower papers and clean +white paint? And how astonished they would be to see cell No. 14 turned +into a bathroom, with a bath big enough to insure a cleanliness of body +equal to their purity of soul! They would look upon it as a snare of +the tempter; and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked +at the blackness of my nails the day that I began to lose the first +whiteness of my soul by falling in love at fifteen with the parish +organist, or rather with the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and +fiery moustache which was all I ever saw of him, and which I loved to +distraction for at least six months; at the end of which time, going +out with my governess one day, I passed him in the street, and +discovered that his unofficial garb was a frock-coat combined with a +turn-down collar and a “bowler” hat, and never loved him any more. + +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I +had not a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. +Then he appeared suddenly who has a right to appear when and how he +will and rebuked me for never having written, and when I told him that +I had been literally too happy to think of writing, he seemed to take +it as a reflection on himself that I could be happy alone. I took him +round the garden along the new paths I had had made, and showed him the +acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was the purest +selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring were with +me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. I tried to appease +him by offering him the whole of my salad and toast supper which stood +ready at the foot of the little verandah steps when we came back, but +nothing appeased that Man of Wrath, and he said he would go straight +back to the neglected family. So he went; and the remainder of the +precious time was disturbed by twinges of conscience (to which I am +much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump for joy. I went +to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me to look +at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; I +criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day than I had done +in all the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; but I +could not manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your +conscience is clear and your liver in order and the sun is shining? + +_May_ 10_th_.—I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening and +this year know very little more, but I have dawnings of what may be +done, and have at least made one great stride—from ipomæa to tea-roses. + +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all round the house, but +the principal part is on the south side and has evidently always been +so. The south front is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one +into the other, and the walls are covered with virginia creeper. There +is a little verandah in the middle, leading by a flight of rickety +wooden steps down into what seems to have been the only spot in the +whole place that was ever cared for. This is a semicircle cut into the +lawn and edged with privet, and in this semicircle are eleven beds of +different sizes bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, and +the sun-dial is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by +me. These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening to be +seen (except a solitary crocus that came up all by itself each spring +in the grass, not because it wanted to, but because it could not help +it), and these I had sown with ipomæa, the whole eleven, having found a +German gardening book, according to which ipomæa in vast quantities was +the one thing needful to turn the most hideous desert into a paradise. +Nothing else in that book was recommended with anything like the same +warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity of seed necessary, +I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown not only in the eleven beds +but round nearly every tree, and then waited in great agitation for the +promised paradise to appear. It did not, and I learned my first lesson. + +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweet-peas which made me very +happy all the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few +hollyhocks under the south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. But +the lilies, after being transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, +for how was I to know it was the way of lilies? And the hollyhocks +turned out to be rather ugly colours, so that my first summer was +decorated and beautified solely by sweet-peas. At present we are only +just beginning to breathe after the bustle of getting new beds and +borders and paths made in time for this summer. The eleven beds round +the sun-dial are filled with roses, but I see already that I have made +mistakes with some. As I have not a living soul with whom to hold +communion on this or indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is +by making mistakes. All eleven were to have been carpeted with purple +pansies, but finding that I had not enough and that nobody had any to +sell me, only six have got their pansies, the others being sown with +dwarf mignonette. Two of the eleven are filled with Marie van Houtte +roses, two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette Messimy, one +with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, two with +Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind the sun-dial with +three sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), Duke of Teck, Cheshunt +Scarlet, and Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, I am sure, a mistake, and +several of the others are, I think, but of course I must wait and see, +being such an ignorant person. Then I have had two long beds made in +the grass on either side of the semicircle, each sown with mignonette, +and one filled with Marie van Houtte, and the other with Jules Finger +and the Bride; and in a warm corner under the drawing-room windows is a +bed of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and Comtesse Riza du Parc; +while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north and west by a +group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, containing Rubens, +Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hon. Edith Gifford. All these roses are +dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, two Madame George +Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. How I long for the day when +the tea-roses open their buds! Never did I look forward so intensely to +anything; and every day I go the rounds, admiring what the dear little +things have achieved in the twenty-four hours in the way of new leaf or +increase of lovely red shoot. + +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south +windows in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot of +which I have sown two long borders of sweet-peas facing the rose beds, +so that my roses may have something almost as sweet as themselves to +look at until the autumn, when everything is to make place for more +tea-roses. The path leading away from this semicircle down the garden +is bordered with China roses, white and pink, with here and there a +Persian Yellow. I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I have +misgivings as to the effect of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, +for the Chinas are such wee little baby things, and the Persian Yellows +look as though they intended to be big bushes. + +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the +least understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward to the +flowering of these roses, and not a German gardening book that does not +relegate all tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning them for life, and +depriving them for ever of the breath of God. It was no doubt because I +was so ignorant that I rushed in where Teutonic angels fear to tread +and made my tea-roses face a northern winter; but they did face it +under fir branches and leaves, and not one has suffered, and they are +looking to-day as happy and as determined to enjoy themselves as any +roses, I am sure, in Europe. + + + + +_May_ 14_th_.—To-day I am writing on the verandah with the three +babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, and already +several of the thirty fingers have been in the ink-pot and the owners +consoled when duty pointed to rebukes. But who can rebuke such penitent +and drooping sunbonnets? I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores +and nimble black legs. + +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, and the +gardener’s assistant, are the only people who ever go into my garden, +but then neither are we ever out of it. The gardener has been here a +year and has given me notice regularly on the first of every month, but +up to now has been induced to stay on. On the first of this month he +came as usual, and with determination written on every feature told me +he intended to go in June, and that nothing should alter his decision. +I don’t think he knows much about gardening, but he can at least dig +and water, and some of the things he sows come up, and some of the +plants he plants grow, besides which he is the most unflaggingly +industrious person I ever saw, and has the great merit of never +appearing to take the faintest interest in what we do in the garden. So +I have tried to keep him on, not knowing what the next one may be like, +and when I asked him what he had to complain of and he replied +“Nothing,” I could only conclude that he has a personal objection to me +because of my eccentric preference for plants in groups rather than +plants in lines. Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts from +gardening books I read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing +something new. Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead +of explaining, to take the book itself out to him and let him have +wisdom at its very source, administering it in doses while he worked. I +quite recognise that this must be annoying, and only my anxiety not to +lose a whole year through some stupid mistake has given me the courage +to do it. I laugh sometimes behind the book at his disgusted face, and +wish we could be photographed, so that I may be reminded in twenty +years’ time, when the garden is a bower of loveliness and I learned in +all its ways, of my first happy struggles and failures. + +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the +autumn into their permanent places, and all through April he went about +with a long piece of string making parallel lines down the borders of +beautiful exactitude and arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a +review. Two long borders were done during my absence one day, and when +I explained that I should like the third to have plants in groups and +not in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural effect with no bare +spaces of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily hopeless than +usual; and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he had +planted two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little +lines of five plants in a row—first five pinks, and next to them five +rockets, and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five +rockets, and so on with different plants of every sort and size down to +the end. When I protested, he said he had only carried out my orders +and had known it would not look well; so I gave in, and the remaining +borders were done after the pattern of the first two, and I will have +patience and see how they look this summer, before digging them up +again; for it becomes beginners to be humble. + +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, besides being so +fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where you want them and put +in your plants exactly as you choose instead of giving orders that can +only be half understood from the moment you depart from the lines laid +down by that long piece of string! In the first ecstasy of having a +garden all my own, and in my burning impatience to make the waste +places blossom like a rose, I did one warm Sunday in last year’s April +during the servants’ dinner hour, doubly secure from the gardener by +the day and the dinner, slink out with a spade and a rake and +feverishly dig a little piece of ground and break it up and sow +surreptitious ipomæa, and run back very hot and guilty into the house, +and get into a chair and behind a book and look languid just in time to +save my reputation. And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one +hot; but it is a blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in +Paradise and known what to do with it, we should not have had all that +sad business of the apple. + +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, birds, +and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town +acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment, and burying, and I don’t +know what besides, and would rend the air with their shrieks if +condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest above all +my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily. I believe I +should always be good if the sun always shone, and could enjoy myself +very well in Siberia on a fine day. And what can life in town offer in +the way of pleasure to equal the delight of any one of the calm +evenings I have had this month sitting alone at the foot of the +verandah steps, with the perfume of young larches all about, and the +May moon hanging low over the beeches, and the beautiful silence made +only more profound in its peace by the croaking of distant frogs and +hooting of owls? A cockchafer darting by close to my ear with a loud +hum sends a shiver through me, partly of pleasure at the reminder of +past summers, and partly of fear lest he should get caught in my hair. +The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be +killed. I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer +and not crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning of +all the fun. + +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. My eldest baby, born in +April, is five years old, and the youngest, born in June, is three; so +that the discerning will at once be able to guess the age of the +remaining middle or May baby. While I was stooping over a group of +hollyhocks planted on the top of the only thing in the shape of a hill +the garden possesses, the April baby, who had been sitting pensive on a +tree stump close by, got up suddenly and began to run aimlessly about, +shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. I +stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw that a whole +army of young cows, pasturing in a field next to the garden, had got +through the hedge and were grazing perilously near my tea-roses and +most precious belongings. The nurse and I managed to chase them away, +but not before they had trampled down a border of pinks and lilies in +the cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed of China roses, and +even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am trying to +persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener happened to be +ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers—as Lutheran Germany calls +afternoon tea or its equivalent—so the nurse filled up the holes as +well as she could with mould, burying the crushed and mangled roses, +cheated for ever of their hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking +on dejectedly. The June baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond +her size and years, seized a stick much bigger than herself and went +after the cows, the cowherd being nowhere to be seen. She planted +herself in front of them brandishing her stick, and they stood in a row +and stared at her in great astonishment; and she kept them off until +one of the men from the farm arrived with a whip, and having found the +cowherd sleeping peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. The +cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger than the man who beat +him, but he took his punishment as part of the day’s work and made no +remark of any sort. It could not have hurt him much through his leather +breeches, and I think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work +for a strong young man with no brains looking after cows. Nobody with +less imagination than a poet ought to take it up as a profession. + +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two with +as many hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, +and while we were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I +happened to look up into its mazy green, and there, on a branch quite +close to my head, sat a little baby owl. I got on the seat and caught +it easily, for it could not fly, and how it had reached the branch at +all is a mystery. It is a little round ball of gray fluff, with the +quaintest, wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let it go, +but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present on a +journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often said how +much he would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. So I put it +into a roomy cage and slung it up on a branch near where it had been +sitting, and which cannot be far from its nest and its mother. We had +hardly subsided again to our tea when I saw two more balls of fluff on +the ground in the long grass and scarcely distinguishable at a little +distance from small mole-hills. These were promptly united to their +relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath comes home, not +only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox smiles, +but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take +them from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some +day—perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. I +put a small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have +tasted water yet unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. +I suppose they get all the liquid they need from the bodies of the mice +and other dainties provided for them by their fond parents. But the +raindrop idea is prettier. + + + + +_May_ 15_th_.—How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls into +a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never +pander to the Man of Wrath’s wishes again. This morning I got up early +to see how they were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide +open and no owls to be seen. I thought of course that somebody had +stolen them—some boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised +cowherd. But looking about I saw one perched high up in the branches of +the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead on the ground. The +third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its nest. The +parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance they got +the door open, and then dragged the little ones out and up into the +tree. The one that is dead must have been blown off the branch, as it +was a windy night and its neck is broken. There is one happy life less +in the garden to-day through my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm +day—just the sort of weather for young soft things to enjoy and grow +in. The babies are greatly distressed, and are digging a grave, and +preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. + +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out I +breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give +him the owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry +I was they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on +after the voluble manner of women. + +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, “I am surprised +at such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had +never done you any harm.” + +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than +ever that he sang true who sang— + +Two paradises ’twere in one to live in Paradise alone. + + + + +_May_ 16_th_.—The garden is the place I go to for refuge and shelter, +not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, servants to +exhort and admonish, furniture, and meals; but out there blessings +crowd round me at every step—it is there that I am sorry for the +unkindness in me, for those selfish thoughts that are so much worse +than they feel; it is there that all my sins and silliness are +forgiven, there that I feel protected and at home, and every flower and +weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been vexed I run +out to them for comfort, and when I have been angry without just cause, +it is there that I find absolution. Did ever a woman have so many +friends? And always the same, always ready to welcome me and fill me +with cheerful thoughts. Happy children of a common Father, why should +I, their own sister, be less content and joyous than they? Even in a +thunder storm, when other people are running into the house, I run out +of it. I do not like thunder storms—they frighten me for hours before +they come, because I always feel them on the way; but it is odd that I +should go for shelter to the garden. I feel better there, more taken +care of, more petted. When it thunders, the April baby says, “There’s +_lieber Gott_ scolding those angels again.” And once, when there was a +storm in the night, she complained loudly, and wanted to know why +_lieber Gott_ didn’t do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so +_tight_ asleep. They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and +English, adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting in +English words in the middle of a German sentence. It always reminds me +of Justice tempered by Mercy. + +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by the name +of the Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground of +innumerable deer who fight there in the autumn evenings, calling each +other out to combat with bayings that ring through the silence and send +agreeable shivers through the lonely listener. I often walk there in +September, late in the evening, and sitting on a fallen tree listen +fascinated to their angry cries. + +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had never seen +such things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. The Hirschwald is +a little open wood of silver birches and springy turf starred with +flowers, and there is a tiny stream meandering amiably about it and +decking itself in June with yellow flags. I have dreams of having a +little cottage built there, with the daisies up to the door, and no +path of any sort—just big enough to hold myself and one baby inside and +a purple clematis outside. Two rooms—a bedroom and a kitchen. How +scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! I know +the exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, so that we +should get all the cheerfulness of the morning, and close to the +stream, so that we might wash our plates among the flags. Sometimes, +when in the mood for society, we would invite the remaining babies to +tea and entertain them with wild strawberries on plates of +horse-chestnut leaves; but no one less innocent and easily pleased than +a baby would be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny +cottage—indeed, I don’t suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. +Wise people want so many things before they can even begin to enjoy +themselves, and I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, for only +being able to offer them that which I love best myself—apologetic, and +ashamed of being so easily contented. + +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town (it took us the +whole afternoon to get there) the women after dinner were curious to +know how I had endured the winter, cut off from everybody and snowed up +sometimes for weeks. + +“Ah, these husbands!” sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking her +head; “they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don’t care +what their sufferings are.” + +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady +was a great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful +husband had brought his young wife into the country and had kept her +there, concealing her beauty and accomplishments from the public in a +most cruel manner, and how, after spending a certain number of years in +alternately weeping and producing progeny, she had quite lately run +away with somebody unspeakable—I think it was the footman, or the +baker, or some one of that sort. + +“But I am quite happy,” I began, as soon as I could put in a word. + +“Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it,” and the female +potentate patted my hand, but continued gloomily to shake her head. + +“You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone,” asserted +another lady, the wife of a high military authority and not accustomed +to be contradicted. + +“But I am.” + +“But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible.” + +“But I _am_.” + +“Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter.” + +“But I don’t want to be brought to town.” + +“And not let you waste your best years buried.” + +“But I like being buried.” + +“Such solitude is not right.” + +“But I’m not solitary.” + +“And can come to no good.” She was getting quite angry. + +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, and renewed +shaking of heads. + +“I enjoyed the winter immensely,” I persisted when they were a little +quieter; “I sleighed and skated, and then there were the children, and +shelves and shelves full of—” I was going to say books, but stopped. +Reading is an occupation for men; for women it is reprehensible waste +of time. And how could I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the +sun shone on the snow, or of the deep delight of hoar-frost days? + +“It is entirely my doing that we have come down here,” I proceeded, +“and my husband only did it to please me.” + +“Such a good little wife,” repeated the patronising potentate, again +patting my hand with an air of understanding all about it, “really an +excellent little wife. But you must not let your husband have his own +way too much, my dear, and take my advice and insist on his bringing +you to town next winter.” And then they fell to talking about their +cooks, having settled to their entire satisfaction that my fate was +probably lying in wait for me too, lurking perhaps at that very moment +behind the apparently harmless brass buttons of the man in the hall +with my cloak. + +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction +when we reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the +pretty old house; and when I went into the library, with its four +windows open to the moonlight and the scent, and looked round at the +familiar bookshelves, and could hear no sounds but sounds of peace, and +knew that here I might read or dream or idle exactly as I chose with +never a creature to disturb me, how grateful I felt to the kindly Fate +that has brought me here and given me a heart to understand my own +blessedness, and rescued me from a life like that I had just seen—a +life spent with the odours of other people’s dinners in one’s nostrils, +and the noise of their wrangling servants in one’s ears, and parties +and tattle for all amusement. + +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed when some +grand person, examining the details of my home through her eyeglass, +and coolly dissecting all that I so much prize from the convenient +distance of the open window, has finished up by expressing sympathy +with my loneliness, and on my protesting that I like it, has murmured, +“_sehr anspruchslos_.” Then indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness +of my wants; but only for a moment, and only under the withering +influence of the eyeglass; for, after all, the owner’s spirit is the +same spirit as that which dwells in my servants—girls whose one idea of +happiness is to live in a town where there are others of their sort +with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. The passion for +being for ever with one’s fellows, and the fear of being left for a few +hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. I can entertain myself +quite well for weeks together, hardly aware, except for the pervading +peace, that I have been alone at all. Not but what I like to have +people staying with me for a few days, or even for a few weeks, should +they be as _anspruchslos_ as I am myself, and content with simple joys; +only, any one who comes here and would be happy must have something in +him; if he be a mere blank creature, empty of head and heart, he will +very probably find it dull. I should like my house to be often full if +I could find people capable of enjoying themselves. They should be +welcomed and sped with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to +confess that, though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just +as much to see them go. + +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually longed +for some one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. There has +been rain in the night, and the whole garden seems to be singing—not +the untiring birds only, but the vigorous plants, the happy grass and +trees, the lilac bushes—oh, those lilac bushes! They are all out +to-day, and the garden is drenched with the scent. I have brought in +armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every pot and bowl and tub +in the house is filled with purple glory, and the servants think there +is going to be a party and are extra nimble, and I go from room to room +gazing at the sweetness, and the windows are all flung open so as to +join the scent within to the scent without; and the servants gradually +discover that there is no party, and wonder why the house should be +filled with flowers for one woman by herself, and I long more and more +for a kindred spirit—it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to +oneself—but kindred spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as +well cry for the moon. It is true that my garden is full of friends, +only they are—dumb. + + + + +_June_ 3_rd_.—This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that +it requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus +delivered from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, +or people who love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to +be deterred from coming by the roundabout train journey and the long +drive at the end. Not the least of my many blessings is that we have +only one neighbour. If you have to have neighbours at all, it is at +least a mercy that there should be only one; for with people dropping +in at all hours and wanting to talk to you, how are you to get on with +your life, I should like to know, and read your books, and dream your +dreams to your satisfaction? Besides, there is always the certainty +that either you or the dropper-in will say something that would have +been better left unsaid, and I have a holy horror of gossip and +mischief-making. A woman’s tongue is a deadly weapon and the most +difficult thing in the world to keep in order, and things slip off it +with a facility nothing short of appalling at the very moment when it +ought to be most quiet. In such cases the only safe course is to talk +steadily about cooks and children, and to pray that the visit may not +be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. Cooks I have found to be +the best of all subjects—the most phlegmatic flush into life at the +mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected with them are +experiences common to us all. + +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, with a +whole troop of flaxen-haired little children to keep them occupied, +besides the business of their large estate. Our intercourse is arranged +on lines of the most beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, +and she returns the call a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner in +the summer, and we ask them to dinner in the winter. By strictly +keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that closer friendship which is +only another name for frequent quarrels. She is a pattern of what a +German country lady should be, and is not only a pretty woman but an +energetic and practical one, and the combination is, to say the least, +effective. She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the +stock, the butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; a +thousand things get done while most people are fast asleep, and before +lazy folk are well at breakfast she is off in her pony-carriage to the +other farms on the place, to rate the “mamsells,” as the head women are +called, to poke into every corner, lift the lids off the saucepans, +count the new-laid eggs, and box, if necessary, any careless +dairymaid’s ears. We are allowed by law to administer “slight corporal +punishment” to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste +to decide what “slight” shall be, and my neighbour really seems to +enjoy using this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. I +would give much to be able to peep through a keyhole and see the +dauntless little lady, terrible in her wrath and dignity, standing on +tiptoe to box the ears of some great strapping girl big enough to eat +her. + +The making of cheese and butter and sausages _excellently_ well is a +work which requires brains, and is, to my thinking, a very admirable +form of activity, and entirely worthy of the attention of the +intelligent. That my neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident +by the bright alertness of her eyes—eyes that nothing escapes, and that +only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose. She is a +recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries of +sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; and +with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home, +her children are patterns of health and neatness, and of what dear +little German children, with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick +legs, should be. Who shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and +unworthy of a high order of intelligence? I protest that to me it is a +beautiful life, full of wholesome outdoor work, and with no room for +those listless moments of depression and boredom, and of wondering what +you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a pretty woman’s eyes, and +are not unknown even to the most brilliant. But while admiring my +neighbour, I don’t think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my +talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather +of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take +up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, +sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very +existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the +glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields. And it would make me +perfectly wretched to be confronted by ears so refractory as to require +boxing. + +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it is on +these occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is, +and how far away from his neighbour; and while they talk (generally +about babies, past, present, and to come), I fall to wondering at the +vast and impassable distance that separates one’s own soul from the +soul of the person sitting in the next chair. I am speaking of +comparative strangers, people who are forced to stay a certain time by +the eccentricities of trains, and in whose presence you grope about +after common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that +you have none. Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each +minute more benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in +the air and look vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of +wondering who they most take after, generally settling the question by +saying that the May baby, who is the beauty, is like her father, and +that the two more or less plain ones are the image of me, and this +decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is coming, never fails +to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first time. The +babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it is hard that +they should be used as a means of filling up gaps in conversation, and +their features pulled to pieces one by one, and all their weak points +noted and criticised, while they stand smiling shyly in the operator’s +face, their very smile drawing forth comments on the shape of their +mouths; but, after all, it does not occur very often, and they are one +of those few interests one has in common with other people, as +everybody seems to have babies. A garden, I have discovered, is by no +means a fruitful topic, and it is amazing how few persons really love +theirs—they all pretend they do, but you can hear by the very tone of +their voice what a lukewarm affection it is. About June their interest +is at its warmest, nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and +roses; but on reflection I don’t know a single person within twenty +miles who really cares for his garden, or has discovered the treasures +of happiness that are buried in it, and are to be found if sought for +diligently, and if needs be with tears. It is after these rare calls +that I experience the only moments of depression from which I ever +suffer, and then I am angry at myself, a well-nourished person, for +allowing even a single precious hour of life to be spoilt by anything +so indifferent. That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed +enough, and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably +desire—on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy +by such abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach +to your neighbour’s soul; which is on the face of it foolish, the +probability being that he hasn’t got one. + +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, put +them right along the very front of two borders, and I don’t know what +his feelings can be now that they are all flowering and the plants +behind are completely hidden; but I have learned another lesson, and no +future gardener shall be allowed to run riot among my rockets in quite +so reckless a fashion. They are charming things, as delicate in colour +as in scent, and a bowl of them on my writing-table fills the room with +fragrance. Single rows, however, are a mistake; I had masses of them +planted in the grass, and these show how lovely they can be. A border +full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, must be beautiful; +but I don’t know how long they last nor what they look like when they +have done flowering. This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. +Was ever a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? No +doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to +learn solely by my failures, and if I had some kind creature to tell me +when to do things. At present the only flowers in the garden are the +rockets, the pansies in the rose beds, and two groups of azaleas—mollis +and pontica. The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous; I only +planted them this spring and they almost at once began to flower, and +the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were filled with +imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. Orange, lemon, pink in every delicate +shade—what they will be next year and in succeeding years when the +bushes are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. On +gray, dull days the effect is absolutely startling. Next autumn I shall +make a great bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a +gloomy nook. My tea-roses are covered with buds which will not open for +at least another week, so I conclude this is not the sort of climate +where they will flower from the very beginning of June to November, as +they are said to do. + + + + +_July_ 11_th_.—There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday, +five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad soon +after Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took to going +about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, explaining +that he felt safer that way, and we bore it quite patiently, as becomes +civilised beings who respect each other’s prejudices, until one day, +when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper—and after he bought +the revolver my tones in addressing him were of the mildest, and I +quite left off reading to him aloud—he turned round, looked me straight +in the face for the first time since he has been here, and said, “Do I +look like Graf X———— (a great local celebrity), or like a monkey?” +After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as +expeditiously as possible. There was no gardener to be had in his +place, and I have only just succeeded in getting one; so that what with +the drought, and the neglect, and the gardener’s madness, and my +blunders, the garden is in a sad condition; but even in a sad condition +it is the dearest place in the world, and all my mistakes only make me +more determined to persevere. + +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. The +rockets have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets in other +walks of life, have degenerated into sticks; and nothing else in those +borders intends to bloom this summer. The giant poppies I had planted +out in them in April have either died off or remained quite small, and +so have the columbines; here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly, +and that is all. I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved, or perhaps +they were not watered enough at the time of transplanting; anyhow, +those borders are going to be sown to-morrow with more poppies for next +year; for poppies I will have, whether they like it or not, and they +shall not be touched, only thinned out. + +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I come out +and sit under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, and see the +sunshine on the cornfields away on the plain, all the disappointment +smooths itself out, and it seems impossible to be sad and discontented +when everything about me is so radiant and kind. + +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in +this shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves +across the grass, and listening to the rooks quarrelling in the +treetops, I almost expect to hear English church bells ringing for the +afternoon service. But the church is three miles off, has no bells, and +no afternoon service. Once a fortnight we go to morning prayer at +eleven and sit up in a sort of private box with a room behind, whither +we can retire unobserved when the sermon is too long or our flesh too +weak, and hear ourselves being prayed for by the black-robed parson. In +winter the church is bitterly cold; it is not heated, and we sit +muffled up in more furs than ever we wear out of doors; but it would of +course be very wicked for the parson to wear furs, however cold he may +be, so he puts on a great many extra coats under his gown, and, as the +winter progresses, swells to a prodigious size. We know when spring is +coming by the reduction in his figure. The congregation sit at ease +while the parson does the praying for them, and while they are droning +the long-drawn-out chorales, he retires into a little wooden box just +big enough to hold him. He does not come out until he thinks we have +sung enough, nor do we stop until his appearance gives us the signal. I +have often thought how dreadful it would be if he fell ill in his box +and left us to go on singing. I am sure we should never dare to stop, +unauthorised by the Church. I asked him once what he did in there; he +looked very shocked at such a profane question, and made an evasive +reply. + +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a terrible day; +but in the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief and more +profound peace, nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; only the little +flowers themselves and the whispering trees. + +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors—not stray callers +to be got rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are +sorry afterwards that you said, but people staying in the house and not +to be got rid of at all. All June was lost to me in this way, and it +was from first to last a radiant month of heat and beauty; but a garden +where you meet the people you saw at breakfast, and will see again at +lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy in. Besides, they had a +knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in them just when +I longed to lounge myself; and they took books out of the library with +them, and left them face downwards on the seats all night to get well +drenched with dew, though they might have known that what is meat for +roses is poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they +had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long +ago—whereas I don’t believe a garden ever is finished. They have all +gone now, thank heaven, except one, so that I have a little breathing +space before others begin to arrive. It seems that the place interests +people, and that there is a sort of novelty in staying in such a +deserted corner of the world, for they were in a perpetual state of +mild amusement at being here at all. + +Irais is the only one left. She is a young woman with a beautiful, +refined face, and her eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly +lovable. At meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites a bit +off, and repeats the process, although providence (taking my shape) has +caused salt-spoons to be placed at convenient intervals down the table. +She lunched to-day on beer, _Schweinekoteletten_, and cabbage-salad +with caraway seeds in it, and now I hear her through the open window, +extemporising touching melodies in her charming, cooing voice. She is +thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on the above diet. What +better proof can be needed to establish the superiority of the Teuton +than the fact that after such meals he can produce such music? Cabbage +salad is a horrid invention, but I don’t doubt its utility as a means +of encouraging thoughtfulness; nor will I quarrel with it, since it +results so poetically, any more than I quarrel with the manure that +results in roses, and I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. +She is the sweetest singer I have ever heard, and has a charming trick +of making up songs as she goes along. When she begins, I go and lean +out of the window and look at my little friends out there in the +borders while listening to her music, and feel full of pleasant sadness +and regret. It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to be sad +about. + +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, the others +hurrying along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed for my +admiration three brand-new kittens, lean and blind, that she was +carrying in her pinafore, and that had just been found motherless in +the woodshed. + +“Look,” she cried breathlessly, “such a much!” + +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once before +this afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself down on +the grass at my feet, to ask about the _lieber Gott_, it being Sunday +and her pious little nurse’s conversation having run, as it seems, on +heaven and angels. + +Her questions about the _lieber Gott_ are better left unrecorded, and I +was relieved when she began about the angels. + +“What do they wear for clothes?” she asked in her German-English. + +“Why, you’ve seen them in pictures,” I answered, “in beautiful, long +dresses, and with big, white wings.” + +“Feathers?” she asked. + +“I suppose so,—and long dresses, all white and beautiful.” + +“Are they girlies?” + +“Girls? Ye—es.” + +“Don’t boys go into the _Himmel?_” + +“Yes, of course, if they’re good.” + +“And then what do _they_ wear?” + +“Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose.” + +“_Dwesses?_” + +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me +of making jokes. “What a funny Mummy!” she said, evidently much amused. +She has a fat little laugh that is very infectious. + +“I think,” said I, gravely, “you had better go and play with the other +babies.” + +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began +writing again. + +“Mummy,” she said presently. + +“Well?” + +“Where do the angels get their dwesses?” + +I hesitated. “From _lieber Gott_,” I said. + +“Are there shops in the _Himmel?_” + +“Shops? No.” + +“But, then, where does _lieber Gott_ buy their dwesses?” + +“Now run away like a good baby; I’m busy.” + +“But you said yesterday, when I asked about _lieber Gott_, that you +would tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about +Him.” + +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with +a sigh. “Call the others, then.” + +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one +after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The +April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the +other two had to sit on the grass. + +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. +The April baby’s eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder +and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in the +story—the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly +listening. I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and +announced that that was all, when she burst out, “Now _I’ll_ tell about +it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had _plenty_ of +clothes, and there was no snake, and _lieber Gott_ wasn’t angry with +them, and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy +for ever and ever—there now!” + +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. + +“But that’s not the story,” I said rather helplessly. + +“Yes, yes! It’s a much nicelier one! Now another.” + +“But these stories are _true_,” I said severely; “and it’s no use my +telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards.” + +“Another! another!” she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled +energy, all her silvery curls flying. + +I began about Noah and the flood. + +“Did it rain _so_ badly?” she asked with a face of the deepest concern +and interest. + +“Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks——” + +“And was everybody so wet?” + +“Yes—” + +“But why didn’t they open their umbwellas?” + +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. + +“I’ll tell you the rest another time,” I said, putting her off my knee, +greatly relieved; “you must all go to Anna now and have tea.” + +“I don’t like Anna,” remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened +her lips; “she is a stupid girl.” + +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for, +besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not +to hurt any one’s feelings, they had been brought up to love and +respect their kind little nurse. + +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger, +pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. “Such a child will +never go into the _Himmel_,” she said with great emphasis, and the air +of one who delivers judgment. + + + + +_September_ 15_th_.—This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, +and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea +under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in +the library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon +and blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit +cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath +shoots partridges across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as +though it would dream on for ever. It is hard to believe that in three +months we shall probably be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a +feeling about this month that reminds me of March and the early days of +April, when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden +holds its breath in expectation. There is the same mildness in the air, +and the sky and grass have the same look as then; but the leaves tell a +different tale, and the reddening creeper on the house is rapidly +approaching its last and loveliest glory. + +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, and +the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most +beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, +each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at +the base to a yellow-white. I have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses +for planting next month, half of which are Viscountess Folkestones, +because the tea-roses have such a way of hanging their little heads +that one has to kneel down to be able to see them well in the dwarf +forms—not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such perfect +beauty, only it dirties one’s clothes. So I am going to put standards +down each side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the +flowers on a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they +will stand the winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so +difficult to pack up snugly. The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have +been, as I predicted, a mistake among the tea-roses; they only flower +twice in the season and all the rest of the time look dull and moping; +and then the Persian Yellows have such an odd smell and so many insects +inside them eating them up. I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to put in +their place, as they all come out next month and are to be grouped in +the grass; and the semicircle being immediately under the windows, +besides having the best position in the place, must be reserved solely +for my choicest treasures. I have had a great many disappointments, but +feel as though I were really beginning to learn. Humility, and the most +patient perseverance, seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and +sunshine, and every failure must be used as a stepping-stone to +something better. + +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal about gardening and +has had much practical experience. When I heard he was coming, I felt I +wanted to put my arms right round my garden and hide it from him; but +what was my surprise and delight when he said, after having gone all +over it, “Well, I think you have done wonders.” Dear me, how pleased I +was! It was so entirely unexpected, and such a complete novelty after +the remarks I have been listening to all the summer. I could have +hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, able to look beyond the +result to the intention, and appreciating the difficulties of every +kind that had been in the way. After that I opened my heart to him, and +listened reverently to all he had to say, and treasured up his kind and +encouraging advice, and wished he could stay here a whole year and help +me through the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, +and he was the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. + +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able to come to me, +while I can at any time fill the house with visitors about whom I know +little and care less. Perhaps, if I saw more of those absent ones, I +would not love them so well—at least, that is what I think on wet days +when the wind is howling round the house and all nature is overcome +with grief; and it has actually happened once or twice when great +friends have been staying with me that I have wished, when they left, I +might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose the fact is, +that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, and here, in the +country, we invariably think it our duty to appear at breakfast. +Civilisation has done away with curl-papers, yet at that hour the soul +of the _Hausfrau_ is as tightly screwed up in them as was ever her +grandmother’s hair; and though my body comes down mechanically, having +been trained that way by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of +beginning to wake up for other people till lunch-time, and never does +so completely till it has been taken out of doors and aired in the +sunshine. Who can begin conventional amiability the first thing in the +morning? It is the hour of savage instincts and natural tendencies; it +is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. I am convinced that +the Muses and the Graces never thought of having breakfast anywhere but +in bed. + + + + +_November_ 11_th_.—When the gray November weather came, and hung its +soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown of the ploughed fields +and the vivid emerald of the stretches of winter corn, the heavy +stillness weighed my heart down to a forlorn yearning after the +pleasant things of childhood, the petting, the comforting, the warming +faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. A great need of something to +lean on, and a great weariness of independence and responsibility took +possession of my soul; and looking round for support and comfort in +that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness of +the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I +not go and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; +the place where I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, +so close to heaven, so near to hell, always either up on a cloud of +glory, or down in the depths with the waters of despair closing over my +head? Cousins live in it now, distant cousins, loved with the exact +measure of love usually bestowed on cousins who reign in one’s stead; +cousins of practical views, who have dug up the flower-beds and planted +cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the years since my +father’s death I have held my head so high that it hurt, and loftily +refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I should revisit +my old home, something in the sad listlessness of the November days +sent my spirit back to old times with a persistency that would not be +set aside, and I woke from my musings surprised to find myself sick +with longing. It is foolish but natural to quarrel with one’s cousins, +and especially foolish and natural when they have done nothing, and are +mere victims of chance. Is it their fault that my not being a boy +placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into at their +disposal? I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me +love them more. “_Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!_” cried my father, on +my arrival into the world—he had three of them already, and I was his +last hope,—and a _dummes Frauenzimmer_ I have remained ever since; and +that is why for years I would have no dealings with the cousins in +possession, and that is why, the other day, overcome by the tender +influence of the weather, the purely sentimental longing to join hands +again with my childhood was enough to send all my pride to the winds, +and to start me off without warning and without invitation on my +pilgrimage. + +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had lived in the +Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome. The +pilgrims, leaving all their cares at home, the anxieties of their +riches or their debts, the wife that worried and the children that +disturbed, took only their sins with them, and turning their backs on +their obligations, set out with that sole burden, and perhaps a +cheerful heart. How cheerful my heart would have been, starting on a +fine morning, with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious blessings +of my family, with every step getting farther from the suffocation of +daily duties, out into the wide fresh world, out into the glorious free +world, so poor, so penitent, and so happy! My dream, even now, is to +walk for weeks with some friend that I love, leisurely wandering from +place to place, with no route arranged and no object in view, with +liberty to go on all day or to linger all day, as we choose; but the +question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, is one of the rocks +on which my plans have been shipwrecked, and the other is the certain +censure of relatives, who, not fond of walking themselves, and having +no taste for noonday naps under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my +plans before they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their +cry, “How very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!” The +relative of five hundred years back would simply have said, “How holy!” + +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages—indeed, it is evident +that I have it from him—and he encouraged it in me when I was little, +taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a +boy. Often have we been together to the school he was at in +Brandenburg, and spent pleasant days wandering about the old town on +the edge of one of those lakes that lie in a chain in that wide green +plain; and often have we been in Potsdam, where he was quartered as a +lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods around +and in the gardens of Sans Souci, with the second volume of Carlyle’s +Frederick under my father’s arm; and often did we spend long summer +days at the house in the Mark, at the head of the same blue chain of +lakes, where his mother spent her young years, and where, though it +belonged to cousins, like everything else that was worth having, we +could wander about as we chose, for it was empty, and sit in the deep +windows of rooms where there was no furniture, and the painted Venuses +and cupids on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly and stretched their +futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. And while we sat and +rested, my father told me, as my grandmother had a hundred times told +him, all that had happened in those rooms in the far-off days when +people danced and sang and laughed through life, and nobody seemed ever +to be old or sorry. + +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone’s throw of the great +iron gates, with two very old lime trees in front of it, where we used +to lunch on our arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue +check cloth, the lime blossoms dropping into our soup, and the bees +humming in the scented shadows overhead. I have a picture of the house +by my side as I write, done from the lake in old times, with a boat +full of ladies in hoops and powder in the foreground, and a youth +playing a guitar. The pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the +best. + +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories to tell +a little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, or hung over the +stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, or picked the pale +dog-roses in the hedges, or lay in the boat in a shady reed-grown bay +while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off, were after all only +traditions, imparted to me in small doses from time to time, when his +earnest desire not to raise his remarks above the level of dulness +supposed to be wholesome for _Backfische_ was neutralised by an impulse +to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh; whereas the place +I was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with living, +first-hand memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and +eighteen. How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to +me the older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them +since; and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months +ago, every incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years is +perfectly distinct in my memory. + +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether cousinly in +my behaviour towards the people in possession. The invitations to +revisit the old home had ceased. The cousins had grown tired of +refusals, and had left me alone. I did not even know who lived in it +now, it was so long since I had had any news. For two days I fought +against the strong desire to go there that had suddenly seized me, and +assured myself that I would not go, that it would be absurd to go, +undignified, sentimental, and silly, that I did not know them and would +be in an awkward position, and that I was old enough to know better. +But who can foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? +And when does she ever know better? On the third morning I set out as +hopefully as though it were the most natural thing in the world to fall +unexpectedly upon hitherto consistently neglected cousins, and expect +to be received with open arms. + +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. During the +first part, when it was still dark, I glowed with enthusiasm, with the +spirit of adventure, with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the +loved place again; and thought with wonder of the long years I had +allowed to pass since last I was there. Of what I should say to the +cousins, and of how I should introduce myself into their midst, I did +not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon me, the unpractical +spirit that takes no thought for anything, but simply wanders along +enjoying its own emotions. It was a quiet, sad morning, and there was a +thick mist. By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got over my +first enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically examining the +changes that had been made in the last ten years. It was so misty that +I could see nothing of the familiar country from the carriage windows, +only the ghosts of pines in the front row of the forests; but the +railway itself was a new departure, unknown in our day, when we used to +drive over ten miles of deep, sandy forest roads to and from the +station, and although most people would have called it an evident and +great improvement, it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal and +energy of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he +should require more conveniences than my father had found needful? It +was no use my telling myself that in my father’s time the era of light +railways had not dawned, and that if it had, we should have done our +utmost to secure one; the thought of my cousin, stepping into my shoes, +and then altering them, was odious to me. By the time I was walking up +the hill from the station I had got over this feeling too, and had +entered a third stage of wondering uneasily what in the world I should +do next. Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started? At +the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question in +detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. +Where, indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? It had vanished +so completely that I could only suppose that it must be lunch time, the +observations of years having led to the discovery that the higher +sentiments and virtues fly affrighted on the approach of lunch, and +none fly quicker than courage. So I ate the lunch I had brought with +me, hoping that it was what I wanted; but it was chilly, made up of +sandwiches and pears, and it had to be eaten under a tree at the edge +of a field; and it was November, and the mist was thicker than ever and +very wet—the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, I +was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. Nobody’s spirits +can keep up under such conditions; and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, +I deplored the headlong courage more with each mouthful that had torn +me from a warm, dry home where I was appreciated, and had brought me +first to the damp tree in the damp field, and when I had finished my +lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to drag me into the midst of +a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. Vast sheep loomed +through the mist a few yards off. The sheep dog kept up a perpetual, +irritating yap. In the fog I could hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. After the +fashion of woman directly she is not perfectly warm and perfectly +comfortable, I began to consider the uncertainty of human life, and to +shake my head in gloomy approval as lugubrious lines of pessimistic +poetry suggested themselves to my mind. + +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want to do anything, to do +it in the way consecrated by custom, more especially if you are a +woman. The rattle of a carriage along the road just behind me, and the +fact that I started and turned suddenly hot, drove this truth home to +my soul. The mist hid me, and the carriage, no doubt full of cousins, +drove on in the direction of the house; but what an absurd position I +was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, and revealed me lunching in +the wet on their property, the cousin of the short and lofty letters, +the _unangenehme Elisabeth!_ “_Die war doch immer verdreht_,” I could +imagine them hastily muttering to each other, before advancing wreathed +in welcoming smiles. It gave me a great shock, this narrow escape, and +I got on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch under +the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, asked myself +nervously what I proposed to do next. Should I walk back to the +village, go to the _Gasthof_, write a letter craving permission to call +on my cousins, and wait there till an answer came? It would be a +discreet and sober course to pursue; the next best thing to having +written before leaving home. But the _Gasthof_ of a north German +village is a dreadful place, and the remembrance of one in which I had +taken refuge once from a thunderstorm was still so vivid that nature +itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if anything, was growing +denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. What if I gave up all +hope of seeing the house, and went through the little door in the wall +at the bottom of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? +In such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, without +the least risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, and it was +after all the garden that lay nearest my heart. What a delight it would +be to creep into it unobserved, and revisit all the corners I so well +remembered, and slip out again and get away safely without any need of +explanations, assurances, protestations, displays of affection, without +any need, in a word, of that exhausting form of conversation, so dear +to relations, known as _Redensarten!_ + +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine day I would have +gone soberly to the _Gasthof_ and written the conciliatory letter; but +the temptation was too great, it was altogether irresistible, and in +ten minutes I had found the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and +was standing with a beating heart in the garden of my childhood. + +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same +potency as those that ran through me at that moment. First of all I was +trespassing, which is in itself thrilling; but how much more thrilling +when you are trespassing on what might just as well have been your own +ground, on what actually was for years your own ground, and when you +are in deadly peril of seeing the rightful owners, whom you have never +met, but with whom you have quarrelled, appear round the corner, and of +hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness “I do not +think I have the pleasure—?” Then the place was unchanged. I was +standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had +always been just there; they curled away on either side among the +shrubs, with the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of +their green stains, just as they did in my day. The overgrown lilac +bushes still met above my head. The moisture dripped from the same +ledge in the wall on to the sodden leaves beneath, as it had done all +through the afternoons of all those past Novembers. This was the place, +this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to me. Nobody +ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, and in summer so full +of mosquitoes that only a _Backfisch_ indifferent to spots could have +borne it. But it was a place where I could play unobserved, and where I +could walk up and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the +air. There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, much +frequented by the larger black slug, where I used to pass glorious +afternoons making plans. I was for ever making plans, and if nothing +came of them, what did it matter? The mere making had been a joy. To me +this out-of-the-way corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious +place, where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant +rows, and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; +for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all +enchanted. + +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, I forgot the +existence of the cousins. I could have cried for joy at being there +again. It was the home of my fathers, the home that would have been +mine if I had been a boy, the home that was mine now by a thousand +tender and happy and miserable associations, of which the people in +possession could not dream. They were tenants, but it was my home. I +threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, every branch of +which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, and fallen from it, and +torn and bruised myself on it uncountable numbers of times? and I gave +it such a hearty kiss that my nose and chin were smudged into one green +stain, and still I did not care. Far from caring, it filled me with a +reckless, _Backfisch_ pleasure in being dirty, a delicious feeling that +I had not had for years. Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the +contents of the magic bottle, could not have grown smaller more +suddenly than I grew younger the moment I passed through that magic +door. Bad habits cling to us, however, with such persistency that I did +mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub off the +welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed of doing in the +glorious old days; but an artful scent of violets clinging to the +handkerchief brought me to my senses, and with a sudden impulse of +scorn, the fine scorn for scent of every honest _Backfisch_, I rolled +it up into a ball and flung it away into the bushes, where I daresay it +is at this moment. “Away with you,” I cried, “away with you, symbol of +conventionality, of slavery, of pandering to a desire to please—away +with you, miserable little lace-edged rag!” And so young had I grown +within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. + +As a _Backfisch_ I had never used handkerchiefs—the child of nature +scorns to blow its nose—though for decency’s sake my governess insisted +on giving me a clean one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. +It was stowed away unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, where +it was gradually pressed into a beautiful compactness by the other +contents, which were knives. After a while, I remember, the +handkerchief being brought to light on Sundays to make room for a +successor, and being manifestly perfectly clean, we came to an +agreement that it should only be changed on the first and third Sundays +in the month, on condition that I promised to turn it on the other +Sundays. My governess said that the outer folds became soiled from the +mere contact with the other things in my pocket, and that visitors +might catch sight of the soiled side if it was never turned when I +wished to blow my nose in their presence, and that one had no right to +give one’s visitors shocks. “But I never do wish——” I began with great +earnestness. “_Unsinn_,” said my governess, cutting me short. + +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, the +profound stillness of the dripping little shrubbery frightened me. It +was so still that I was afraid to move; so still, that I could count +each drop of moisture falling from the oozing wall; so still, that when +I held my breath to listen, I was deafened by my own heart-beats. I +made a step forward in the direction where the arbour ought to be, and +the rustling and jingling of my clothes terrified me into immobility. +The house was only two hundred yards off; and if any one had been +about, the noise I had already made opening the creaking door and so +foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. +Suppose an inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, should presently +loom through the fog, bearing down upon me? Suppose Fräulein +Wundermacher should pounce upon me suddenly from behind, coming up +noiselessly in her galoshes, and shatter my castles with her customary +triumphant “_Jetzt halte ich dich aber fest!_” Why, what was I thinking +of? Fräulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such an enemy of +day-dreams, such a friend of _das Praktische_, such a lover of creature +comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded long ago by others, +German sometimes, and sometimes English, and sometimes at intervals +French, and they too had all in their turn vanished, and I was here a +solitary ghost. “Come, Elizabeth,” said I to myself impatiently, “are +you actually growing sentimental over your governesses? If you think +you are a ghost, be glad at least that you are a solitary one. Would +you like the ghosts of all those poor women you tormented to rise up +now in this gloomy place against you? And do you intend to stand here +till you are caught?” And thus exhorting myself to action, and +recognising how great was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down +the little path leading to the arbour and the principal part of the +garden, going, it is true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened by the +rustling of my petticoats, but determined to see what I had come to see +and not to be scared away by phantoms. + +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the petticoats of my +youth, so short, so silent, and so woollen! And how convenient the +canvas shoes were with the india rubber soles, for creeping about +without making a sound! Thanks to them I could always run swiftly and +unheard into my hiding-places, and stay there listening to the garden +resounding with cries of “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come in at once to your +lessons!” Or, at a different period, “_Où êtes-vous donc, petite +sotte?_” Or at yet another period, “_Warte nur, wenn ich dich erst +habe!_” As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fräulein Wundermacher, a person +of resource, who discovered that all she needed for my successful +circumvention was galoshes. She purchased a pair, wasted no breath +calling me, and would come up silently, as I stood lapped in a false +security lost in the contemplation of a squirrel or a robin, and seize +me by the shoulders from behind, to the grievous unhinging of my +nerves. Stealing along in the fog, I looked back uneasily once or +twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could hardly be +reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate twists and curls that +compose what my maid calls my _Frisur_, and that mark the gulf lying +between the present and the past; for it had happened once or twice, +awful to relate and to remember, that Fräulein Wundermacher, sooner +than let me slip through her fingers, had actually caught me by the +long plait of hair to whose other end I was attached and whose English +name I had been told was pigtail, just at the instant when I was +springing away from her into the bushes; and so had led me home +triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, and muttering with a +broad smile of special satisfaction, “_Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht +entschlüpfen!_” Fräulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must +have been a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. +But I wished at that moment that she would not haunt me so +persistently, and that I could get rid of the feeling that she was just +behind in her galoshes, with her hand stretched out to seize me. + +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started back +with my heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather’s stern eyes +shining in the darkness. It was evident that my anxiety lest the +cousins should catch me had quite upset my nerves, for I am not by +nature inclined to see eyes where eyes are not. “Don’t be foolish, +Elizabeth,” murmured my soul in rather a faint voice, “go in, and make +sure.” “But I don’t like going in and making sure,” I replied. I did go +in, however, with a sufficient show of courage, and fortunately the +eyes vanished. What I should have done if they had not I am altogether +unable to imagine. Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime and +fear at night, but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The +arbour had fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of +mouldiness. My grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, +it enjoyed a period of prosperity before being left to the ravages of +slugs and children, when he came down every afternoon in summer and +drank his coffee there and read his _Kreuzzeitung_ and dozed, while the +rest of us went about on tiptoe, and only the birds dared sing. Even +the mosquitoes that infested the place were too much in awe of him to +sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I naturally +concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my +memory skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was +exclusively his. Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I +felt how well I knew him now from the impressions he made then on my +child’s mind, though I was not conscious of them for more than twenty +years. Nobody told me about him, and he died when I was six, and yet +within the last year or two, that strange Indian summer of remembrance +that comes to us in the leisured times when the children have been born +and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. It is +rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially for +the parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though +children may not understand what is said and done before them, and have +no interest in it at the time, and though they may forget it at once +and for years, yet these things that they have seen and heard and not +noticed have after all impressed themselves for ever on their minds, +and when they are men and women come crowding back with surprising and +often painful distinctness, and away frisk all the cherished little +illusions in flocks. + +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. He never petted, and he +often frowned, and such people are generally reverenced. Besides, he +was a just man, everybody said; a just man who might have been a great +man if he had chosen, and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly +glory. That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof of +his greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in the vulgar +sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy and +potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still did +nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. People must +believe in somebody, and having pinned their faith on my grandfather in +the promising years that lie round thirty, it was more convenient to +let it remain there. He pervaded our family life till my sixth year, +and saw to it that we all behaved ourselves, and then he died, and we +were glad that he should be in heaven. He was a good German (and when +Germans are good they are very good) who kept the commandments, voted +for the Government, grew prize potatoes and bred innumerable sheep, +drove to Berlin once a year with the wool in a procession of waggons +behind him and sold it at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a +few days there, and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as +often as possible, helped his friends, punished his children, read his +Bible, said his prayers, and was genuinely astonished when his wife had +the affectation to die of a broken heart. I cannot pretend to explain +this conduct. She ought, of course, to have been happy in the +possession of so good a man; but good men are sometimes oppressive, and +to have one in the house with you and to live in the daily glare of his +goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him seven sons +and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother died in the way +described, and afforded, said my grandfather, another and a very +curious proof of the impossibility of ever being sure of your ground +with women. The incident faded more quickly from his mind than it might +otherwise have done for its having occurred simultaneously with the +production of a new kind of potato, of which he was justly proud. He +called it _Trost in Trauer_, and quoted the text of Scripture _Auge um +Auge, Zabn um Zahn_, after which he did not again allude to his wife’s +decease. In his last years, when my father managed the estate, and he +only lived with us and criticised, he came to have the reputation of an +oracle. The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of any +important phase in their lives, and he received them in this very +arbour, administering eloquent and minute advice in the deep voice that +rolled round the shrubbery and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as +I played. Sitting among the bushes playing muffled games for fear of +disturbing him, I supposed he must be reading aloud, so unbroken was +the monotony of that majestic roll. The young men used to come out +again bathed in perspiration, much stung by mosquitoes, and looking +bewildered; and when they had got over the impression made by my +grandfather’s speech and presence, no doubt forgot all he had said with +wholesome quickness, and set themselves to the interesting and +necessary work of gaining their own experience. Once, indeed, a +dreadful thing happened, whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end +to the long and close friendship between us and our nearest neighbour. +His son was brought to the arbour and left there in the usual way, and +either he must have happened on the critical half hour after the coffee +and before the _Kreuzzeitung_, when my grandfather was accustomed to +sleep, or he was more courageous than the others and tried to talk, for +very shortly, playing as usual near at hand, I heard my grandfather’s +voice, raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and quake, +saying with deliberate anger, “_Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des +Satans!_” Which was all the advice this particular young man got, and +which he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, and +though his face was very pale, there was an odd twist about the corners +of his mouth that reassured me. + +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather’s life, for +almost immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he +need have done because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with +him, in the face of his doctor’s warning that if he did he would surely +die. “What! am I to be conquered by crabs?” he demanded indignantly of +the doctor; for apart from loving them with all his heart he had never +yet been conquered by anything. “Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal—do +not, I pray you, try it again,” replied the doctor. But my grandfather +ordered crabs that very night for supper, and went in to table with the +shining eyes of one who is determined to conquer or die, and the crabs +conquered, and he died. “He was a just man,” said the neighbours, +except that nearest neighbour, formerly his best friend, “and might +have been a great one had he so chosen.” And they buried him with +profound respect, and the sunshine came into our home life with a +burst, and the birds were not the only creatures that sang, and the +arbour, from having been a temple of Delphic utterances, sank into a +home for slugs. + +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable ultimate +triumph of the insignificant and small over the important and vast, +illustrated in this instance by the easy substitution in the arbour of +slugs for grandfathers, I went slowly round the next bend of the path, +and came to the broad walk along the south side of the high wall +dividing the flower garden from the kitchen garden, in which sheltered +position my father had had his choicest flowers. Here the cousins had +been at work, and all the climbing roses that clothed the wall with +beauty were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed up at +proper intervals, reigned in their stead. Evidently the cousins knew +the value of this warm aspect, for in the border beneath, filled in my +father’s time in this month of November with the wallflowers that were +to perfume the walk in spring, there was a thick crop of—I stooped down +close to make sure—yes, a thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled with +tears at the sight of those radishes, and it is probably the only +occasion on record on which radishes have made anybody cry. My dear +father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn passionately +loved this particular border, and spent the spare moments of a busy +life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. He had no time himself for a +more near acquaintance with the delights of gardening than directing +what plants were to be used, but found rest from his daily work +strolling up and down here, or sitting smoking as close to the flowers +as possible. “It is the Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest +Refreshment to the Spirits of Man,” he would quote (for he read other +things besides the _Kreuzzeitung_), looking round with satisfaction on +reaching this fragrant haven after a hot day in the fields. Well, the +cousins did not think so. Less fanciful, and more sensible as they +probably would have said, their position plainly was that you cannot +eat flowers. Their spirits required no refreshment, but their bodies +needed much, and therefore radishes were more precious than +wallflowers. Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they +were grown in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners and +old cucumber frames, and would never have been allowed to come among +the flowers. And only because I was not a boy here they were profaning +the ground that used to be so beautiful. Oh, it was a terrible +misfortune not to have been a boy! And how sad and lonely it was, after +all, in this ghostly garden. The radish bed and what it symbolised had +turned my first joy into grief. This walk and border me too much of my +father reminded, and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he +had taught me, and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once +during all the years we lived together had we been of different +opinions and fallen out, and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. +I was four years old, and demanded one Sunday to be taken to church. My +father said no, for I had never been to church, and the German service +is long and exhausting. I implored. He again said no. I implored again, +and showed such a pious disposition, and so earnest a determination to +behave well, that he gave in, and we went off very happily hand in +hand. “Now mind, Elizabeth,” he said, turning to me at the church door, +“there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted on being +brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end.” “Oh, yes, oh, +yes,” I promised eagerly, and went in filled with holy fire. The +shortness of my legs, hanging helplessly for two hours midway between +the seat and the floor, was the weapon chosen by Satan for my +destruction. In German churches you do not kneel, and seldom stand, but +sit nearly the whole time, praying and singing in great comfort. If you +are four years old, however, this unchanged position soon becomes one +of torture. Unknown and dreadful things go on in your legs, strange +prickings and tinglings and dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying +numbness, when you think they must have dropped off but are afraid to +look, then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. I +thought I must be very ill, for I had never known my legs like that +before. My father sitting beside me was engrossed in the singing of a +chorale that evidently had no end, each verse finished with a +long-drawn-out hallelujah, after which the organ played by itself for a +hundred years—by the organist’s watch, which was wrong, two minutes +exactly—and then another verse began. My father, being the patron of +the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon with +exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little church was on +our pew, and at first I tried to imitate him; but the behaviour of my +legs became so alarming that after vainly casting imploring glances at +him and seeing that he continued his singing unmoved, I put out my hand +and pulled his sleeve. + +“Hal-le-lu-jah,” sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low +voice without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly +moving, and his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the +organist, who was also the postman, should have finished his solo, “Did +I not tell thee to sit still, Elizabeth?” “Yes, but——” “Then do it.” +“But I want to go home.” + +“_Unsinn_.” And the next verse beginning, my father sang louder than +ever. What could I do? Should I cry? I began to be afraid I was going +to die on that chair, so extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. +What could my father do to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of +small children I felt that he could not put me in the corner in church, +nor would he whip me in public, and that with the whole village looking +on, he was helpless, and would have to give in. Therefore I tugged his +sleeve again and more peremptorily, and prepared to demand my immediate +removal in a loud voice. But my father was ready for me. Without +interrupting his singing, or altering his devout expression, he put his +hand slowly down and gave me a hard pinch—not a playful pinch, but a +good hard unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, +and then went on serenely to the next hallelujah. For a moment I was +petrified with astonishment. Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, +adorer, and friend? Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a +nicely stretched, tight skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I +opened my mouth to shriek in earnest, when my father’s clear whisper +fell on my ear, each word distinct and not to be misunderstood, his +eyes as before gazing meditatively into space, and his lips hardly +moving, “_Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du platzt_.” +And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum— + +“Will Satan mich verschlingen, +So lass die Engel singen + Hallelujah!” + +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing +slave, and after that I was his. + +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to +the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of +which my own little garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood +still a moment before going through, to hold my breath and listen. The +silence was as profound as before. The place seemed deserted; and I +should have thought the house empty and shut up but for the carefully +tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green of the path. They +were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine a +specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow +sitting on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in +my life jumped, and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my +nerves were all to pieces, for I gathered up my skirts and fled through +the door as though a whole army of ghosts and cousins were at my heels, +nor did I stop till I had reached the remote corner where my garden +was. “Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?” asked the mocking sprite +that calls itself my soul: but I was too much out of breath to answer. + +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated from the main +garden and the house by the wall, and shut in on the north side by an +orchard, and it was to the last degree unlikely that any one would come +there on such an afternoon. This plot of ground, turned now as I saw +into a rockery, had been the scene of my most untiring labours. Into +the cold earth of this north border on which the sun never shone I had +dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been spent on it, and +as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, in a fatal hour I had +borrowed from Fräulein Wundermacher, selling her my independence, +passing utterly into her power, forced as a result till my next +birthday should come round to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner +in her company, against which my very soul revolted. And after all, +nothing came up. The labour of digging and watering, the anxious zeal +with which I pounced on weeds, the poring over gardening books, the +plans made as I sat on the little seat in the middle gazing admiringly +and with the eye of faith on the trim surface so soon to be gemmed with +a thousand flowers, the reckless expenditure of _pfennings_, the +humiliation of my position in regard to Fräulein Wundermacher,—all, all +had been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. The gardener +who reigned supreme in those days had given me this big piece for that +sole reason, because he could do nothing with it himself. He was no +doubt of opinion that it was quite good enough for a child to +experiment upon, and went his way, when I had thanked him with a +profuseness of gratitude I still remember, with an unmoved countenance. +For more than a year I worked and waited, and watched the career of the +flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled feelings. The orchard was +only a few yards away, and yet, although my garden was full of manure, +and water, and attentions that were never bestowed on the orchard, all +it could show and ever did show were a few unhappy beginnings of growth +that either remained stationary and did not achieve flowers, or +dwindled down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked the gardener if +he could explain these signs and wonders, but he was a busy man with no +time for answering questions, and told me shortly that gardening was +not learned in a day. How well I remember that afternoon, and the very +shape of the lazy clouds, and the smell of spring things, and myself +going away abashed and sitting on the shaky bench in my domain and +wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made the difference +between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. The fruit trees, +far enough away from the wall to be beyond the reach of its cold shade, +were tossing their flower-laden heads in the sunshine in a carelessly +well-satisfied fashion that filled my heart with envy. There was a rise +in the field behind them, and at the foot of its protecting slope they +luxuriated in the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. It +was May, and my heart bled at the thought of the tulips I had put in in +November, and that I had never seen since. The whole of the rest of the +garden was on fire with tulips; behind me, on the other side of the +wall, were rows and rows of them,—cups of translucent loveliness, a +jewelled ring flung right round the lawn. But what was there not on the +other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew and flowered +exactly as my gardening books said they should do; and in front of me, +in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever troubled about or +cultivated or noticed throve joyously beneath the trees,—daffodils +thrusting their spears through the grass, crocuses peeping out +inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their small cold faces when the first +shivering spring days came. Only my piece that I so loved was +perpetually ugly and empty. And I sat in it thinking of these things on +that radiant day, and wept aloud. + +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me busily +digging, and noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps by the +difference between my garden and the profusion of splendour all around, +paused with his barrow on the path in front of me, and remarked that +nobody could expect to get blood out of a stone. The apparent +irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, the bitter +tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, and harangued me +from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips +and blood and stones till my tears all dried up again and I listened +attentively, for the conclusion to be drawn from his remarks was +plainly that I had been shamefully taken in by the head gardener, who +was an unprincipled person thenceforward to be for ever mistrusted and +shunned. Standing on the path from which the kindly apprentice had +expounded his proverb, this scene rose before me as clearly as though +it had taken place that very day; but how different everything looked, +and how it had shrunk! Was this the wide orchard that had seemed to +stretch away, it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of +heaven? I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a +certain time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up +my mind that on that Day the heavenly host would enter the world by +that very field, coming down the slope in shining ranks, treading the +daffodils under foot, filling the orchard with their songs of +exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from among the goats. Of +course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head gardener goats, so +that the results could not fail to be in every way satisfactory. But +looking up at the slope and remembering my visions, I laughed at the +smallness of the field I had supposed would hold all heaven. + +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my garden was +occupied by a rockery, and the orchard grass with all its treasures had +been dug up, and the spaces between the trees planted with currant +bushes and celery in admirable rows; so that no future little cousins +will be able to dream of celestial hosts coming towards them across the +fields of daffodils, and will perhaps be the better for being free from +visions of the kind, for as I grew older, uncomfortable doubts laid +hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim uncertainties as to the exact +ultimate position of the gardener and the governess, anxious +questionings as to how it would be if it were they who turned out after +all to be sheep, and I who—? For that we all three might be gathered +into the same fold at the last never, in those days, struck me as +possible, and if it had I should not have liked it. + +“Now what sort of person can that be,” I asked myself, shaking my head, +as I contemplated the changes before me, “who could put a rockery among +vegetables and currant bushes? A rockery, of all things in the +gardening world, needs consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier +to make mistakes in forming a rockery than in any other garden scheme. +Either it is a great success, or it is great failure; either it is very +charming, or it is very absurd. There is no state between the sublime +and the ridiculous possible in a rockery.” I stood shaking my head +disapprovingly at the rockery before me, lost in these reflections, +when a sudden quick pattering of feet coming along in a great hurry +made me turn round with a start, just in time to receive the shock of a +body tumbling out of the mist and knocking violently against me. + +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. + +“Hullo!” said the little girl in excellent English; and then we stared +at each other in astonishment. + +“I thought you were Miss Robinson,” said the little girl, offering no +apology for having nearly knocked me down. “Who are you?” + +“Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?” I repeated, my eyes fixed on the little +girl’s face, and a host of memories stirring within me. “Why, didn’t +she marry a missionary, and go out to some place where they ate him?” + +The little girl stared harder. “Ate him? Marry? What, has she been +married all this time to somebody who’s been eaten and never let on? +Oh, I say, what a game!” And she threw back her head and laughed till +the garden rang again. + +“O hush, you dreadful little girl!” I implored, catching her by the +arm, and terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. “Don’t +make that horrid noise—we are certain to be caught if you don’t stop——” + +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut +her mouth with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot +buttons, came still further out of her head. “Caught?” she said +eagerly. “What, are you afraid of being caught too? Well, this _is_ a +game!” And with her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat she +capered in front of me in the excess of her enjoyment, reminding me of +a very fat black lamb frisking round the dazed and passive sheep its +mother. + +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to the gate at +the end of the garden as quickly as possible, and I began to move away +in that direction. The little girl at once stopped capering and planted +herself squarely in front of me. “Who are you?” she said, examining me +from my hat to my boots with the keenest interest. + +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, +and, trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. + +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, was there before me. + +“Who are you?” she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. “Oh, +I—I’m a pilgrim,” I said in desperation. + +“A pilgrim!” echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, and while she +was struck I slipped past her and began to walk quickly towards the +door in the wall. “A pilgrim!” said the little girl, again, keeping +close beside me, and looking me up and down attentively. “I don’t like +pilgrims. Aren’t they people who are always walking about, and have +things the matter with their feet? Have you got anything the matter +with your feet?” + +“Certainly not,” I replied indignantly, walking still faster. + +“And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don’t either, do you?” + +“Not wash? Oh, I’m afraid you are a very badly brought-up little +girl—oh, leave me alone—I must run—” + +“So must I,” said the little girl, cheerfully, “for Miss Robinson must +be close behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you.” And she +started running by my side. + +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings to my feet, +and, casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was but little left, +to the winds, I fairly flew down the path. The little girl was not to +be outrun, and though she panted and turned weird colours, kept by my +side and even talked. Oh, I was tired, tired in body and mind, tired by +the different shocks I had received, tired by the journey, tired by the +want of food; and here I was being forced to run because this very +naughty little girl chose to hide instead of going in to her lessons. + +“I say—this is jolly—” she jerked out. + +“But why need we run to the same place?” I breathlessly asked, in the +vain hope of getting rid of her. + +“Oh, yes—that’s just—the fun. We’d get on—together—you and I—” + +“No, no,” said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. + +“I can’t stand washing—either—it’s awful—in winter—and makes one +have—chaps.” + +“But I don’t mind it in the least,” I protested faintly, not having any +energy left. + +“Oh, I say!” said the little girl, looking at my face, and making the +sound known as a guffaw. The familiarity of this little girl was wholly +revolting. + +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past the radishes, +and were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience how easy it was to +hide in the tangle of little paths, and stopped a moment to look round +and listen. The little girl opened her mouth to speak. With great +presence of mind I instantly put my muff in front of it and held it +there tight, while I listened. Dead silence, except for the laboured +breathing and struggles of the little girl. + +“I don’t hear a sound,” I whispered, letting her go again. “Now what +did you want to say?” I added, eyeing her severely. + +“I wanted to say,” she panted, “that it’s no good pretending you wash +with a nose like that.” + +“A nose like that! A nose like what?” I exclaimed, greatly offended; +and though I put up my hand and very tenderly and carefully felt it, I +could find no difference in it. “I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must +have a wretched life,” I said, in tones of deep disgust. + +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying her +compliments. “It’s all green and brown,” she said, pointing. “Is it +always like that?” + +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, and the enraptured +kiss it had received, and blushed. + +“Won’t it come off?” persisted the little girl. + +“Of course it will come off,” I answered, frowning. + +“Why don’t you rub it off?” + +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, and blushed +again. + +“Please lend me your handkerchief,” I said humbly, “I—I have lost +mine.” + +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then a +handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was +produced. I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, +intensely interested, watching the operation and giving me advice. +“There—it’s all right now—a little more on the right—there—now it’s all +off.” + +“Are you sure? No green left?” I anxiously asked. + +“No, it’s red all over now,” she replied cheerfully. “Let me get home,” +thought I, very much upset by this information, “let me get home to my +dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept my nose as an example of +what a nose should be, and whatever its colour think it beautiful.” And +thrusting the handkerchief back into the little girl’s hands, I hurried +away down the path. She packed it away hastily, but it took some +seconds for it was of the size of a small sheet, and then came running +after me. “Where are you going?” she asked surprised, as I turned down +the path leading to the gate. + +“Through this gate,” I replied with decision. + +“But you mustn’t—we’re not allowed to go through there——” + +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at the words +_not allowed_ my hand dropped of itself from the latch; and at that +instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist struck me +rigid. + +“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” called the voice, “Come in at once to your +lessons—Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” + +“It’s Miss Robinson,” whispered the little girl, twinkling with +excitement; then, catching sight of my face, she said once more with +eager insistence, “Who are you?” + +“Oh, I’m a ghost!” I cried with conviction, pressing my hands to my +forehead and looking round fearfully. + +“Pooh,” said the little girl. + +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking of +approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I +pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, +and fled out and away down the wide, misty fields. + +The _Gotha Almanach_ says that the reigning cousin married the daughter +of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, and that in 1886 their only +child was born, Elizabeth. + + + + +_November_ 20_th_.—Last night we had ten degrees of frost (Fahrenheit), +and I went out the first thing this morning to see what had become of +the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake and quite +cheerful—covered with rime it is true, but anything but black and +shrivelled. Even those in boxes on each side of the verandah steps were +perfectly alive and full of buds, and one in particular, a Bouquet +d’Or, is a mass of buds, and would flower if it could get the least +encouragement. I am beginning to think that the tenderness of tea-roses +is much exaggerated, and am certainly very glad I had the courage to +try them in this northern garden. But I must not fly too boldly in the +face of Providence, and have ordered those in the boxes to be taken +into the greenhouse for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d’Or, in a +sunny place near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. +The greenhouse is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature just +above freezing, and is reserved entirely for such plants as cannot +stand the very coldest part of the winter out of doors. I don’t use it +for growing anything, because I don’t love things that will only bear +the garden for three or four months in the year and require coaxing and +petting for the rest of it. Give me a garden full of strong, healthy +creatures, able to stand roughness and cold without dismally giving in +and dying. I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely flowers to be +had by heat and constant coaxing, but then for each of these there are +fifty others still lovelier that will gratefully grow in God’s +wholesome air and are blessed in return with a far greater intensity of +scent and colour. + +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds into order +and planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward to next summer +with more hope than ever in spite of my many failures. I wish the years +would pass quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! The Persian +Yellows have gone into their new quarters, and their place is occupied +by the tea-rose Safrano; all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies +sown in July and transplanted in October, each bed having a separate +colour. The purple ones are the most charming and go well with every +rose, but I have white ones with Laurette Messimy, and yellow ones with +Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed of red roses. Round +the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge two rows of +annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, and just +beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard tea and +pillar roses. + +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked with +larkspurs, annual and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, pinks, +Madonna lilies, wallflowers, hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, peonies, +lavender, starworts, cornflowers, Lychnis chalcedonica, and bulbs +packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are the borders that were so +hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes for the verandah +steps have been filled with pink and white and yellow tulips. I love +tulips better than any other spring flower; they are the embodiment of +alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, and next to a hyacinth look like a +wholesome, freshly tubbed young girl beside a stout lady whose every +movement weighs down the air with patchouli. Their faint, delicate +scent is refinement itself; and is there anything in the world more +charming than the sprightly way they hold up their little faces to the +sun? I have heard them called bold and flaunting, but to me they seem +modest grace itself, only always on the alert to enjoy life as much as +they can and not afraid of looking the sun or anything else above them +in the face. On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted with +forget-me-nots; and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils +and narcissus. Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins +will (I hope) shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of +firs, is graced by Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. + +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak tree that +stands alone in the sun—groups of crocuses, daffodils, narcissus, +hyacinths, and tulips, among such flowering shrubs and trees as Pirus +Malus spectabilis, floribunda, and coronaria; Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, +serotina, triloba, and Pissardi; Cydonias and Weigelias in every +colour, and several kinds of Cratægus and other May lovelinesses. If +the weather behaves itself nicely, and we get gentle rains in due +season, I think this little corner will be beautiful—but what a big +“if” it is! Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers each +contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all the ditches +dried up and the soil was like hot pastry. At such times the watering +is naturally quite beyond the strength of two men; but as a garden is a +place to be happy in, and not one where you want to meet a dozen +curious eyes at every turn, I should not like to have more than these +two, or rather one and a half—the assistant having stork-like +proclivities and going home in the autumn to his native Russia, +returning in the spring with the first warm winds. I want to keep him +over the winter, as there is much to be done even then, and I sounded +him on the point the other day. He is the most abject-looking of human +beings—lame, and afflicted with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good +worker and plods along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. + +“Pray, my good stork,” said I, or German words to that effect, “why +don’t you stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting away +all you have earned?” + +“I would stay,” he answered, “but I have my wife there in Russia.” + +“Your wife!” I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed +creature should have found a mate—as though there were not a +superfluity of mates in the world—“I didn’t know you were married?” + +“Yes, and I have two little children, and I don’t know what they would +do if I were not to come home. But it is a very expensive journey to +Russia, and costs me every time seven marks.” + +“Seven marks!” + +“Yes, it is a great sum.” + +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, +supposing I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. + +All the labourers who work here from March to December are Russians and +Poles, or a mixture of both. We send a man over who can speak their +language, to fetch as many as he can early in the year, and they arrive +with their bundles, men and women and babies, and as soon as they have +got here and had their fares paid, they disappear in the night if they +get the chance, sometimes fifty of them at a time, to go and work +singly or in couples for the peasants, who pay them a _pfenning_ or two +more a day than we do, and let them eat with the family. From us they +get a mark and a half to two marks a day, and as many potatoes as they +can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, but because +they are women and must not be encouraged. The overseer lives with +them, and has a loaded revolver in his pocket and a savage dog at his +heels. For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters and +other permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses they are +put into. I suppose they find it sleepy work; for certain it is that +spring after spring the same thing happens, fifty of them getting away +in spite of all our precautions, and we are left with our mouths open +and much out of pocket. This spring, by some mistake, they arrived +without their bundles, which had gone astray on the road, and, as they +travel in their best clothes, they refused utterly to work until their +luggage came. Nearly a week was lost waiting, to the despair of all in +authority. + +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints’ days, +and there surely never was a church so full of them as the Russian +Church. In the spring, when every hour is of vital importance, the work +is constantly being interrupted by them, and the workers lie sleeping +in the sun the whole day, agreeably conscious that they are pleasing +themselves and the Church at one and the same time—a state of +perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided by Faith is of +course exasperated at this waste of precious time, and I confess that +during the first mild days after the long winter frost when it is +possible to begin to work the ground, I have sympathised with the gloom +of the Man of Wrath, confronted in one week by two or three empty days +on which no man will labour, and have listened in silence to his +remarks about distant Russian saints. + +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation that made me +pity these people when first I came to live among them. They herd +together like animals and do the work of animals; but in spite of the +armed overseer, the dirt and the rags, the meals of potatoes washed +down by weak vinegar and water, I am beginning to believe that they +would strongly object to soap, I am sure they would not wear new +clothes, and I hear them coming home from their work at dusk singing. +They are like little children or animals in their utter inability to +grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day in God’s +sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and ready for +rest and not much inclined to find fault with your lot. I have not yet +persuaded myself, however, that the women are happy. They have to work +as hard as the men and get less for it; they have to produce offspring, +quite regardless of times and seasons and the general fitness of +things; they have to do this as expeditiously as possible, so that they +may not unduly interrupt the work in hand; nobody helps them, notices +them, or cares about them, least of all the husband. It is quite a +usual thing to see them working in the fields in the morning, and +working again in the afternoon, having in the interval produced a baby. +The baby is left to an old woman whose duty it is to look after babies +collectively. When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man of Wrath +informed me that they did not suffer because they had never worn +corsets, nor had their mothers and grandmothers. We were riding +together at the time, and had just passed a batch of workers, and my +husband was speaking to the overseer, when a woman arrived alone, and +taking up a spade, began to dig. She grinned cheerfully at us as she +made a curtesy, and the overseer remarked that she had just been back +to the house and had a baby. + +“Poor, _poor_ woman!” I cried, as we rode on, feeling for some occult +reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. “And her wretched husband +doesn’t care a rap, and will probably beat her to-night if his supper +isn’t right. What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the +sexes when the women have the babies!” + +“Quite so, my dear,” replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. +“You have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing +this agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any +serious competition with man. How can a person who is constantly losing +a year of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never +loses any time at all? He has the brute force, and his last word on any +subject could always be his fist.” + +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning of +November, and the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses’ +feet as we rode towards the Hirschwald. + +“It is a universal custom,” proceeded the Man of Wrath, “amongst these +Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes everywhere, and +certainly commendable on the score of simplicity, to silence a woman’s +objections and aspirations by knocking her down. I have heard it said +that this apparently brutal action has anything but the maddening +effect tenderly nurtured persons might suppose, and that the patient is +soothed and satisfied with a rapidity and completeness unattainable by +other and more polite methods. Do you suppose,” he went on, flicking a +twig off a tree with his whip as we passed, “that the intellectual +husband, wrestling intellectually with the chaotic yearnings of his +intellectual wife, ever achieves the result aimed at? He may and does +go on wrestling till he is tired, but never does he in the very least +convince her of her folly; while his brother in the ragged coat has got +through the whole business in less time than it takes me to speak about +it. There is no doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far +more thoroughly than the women in our class, and, as the truest: +happiness consists in finding one’s vocation quickly and continuing in +it all one’s days, I consider they are to be envied rather than not, +since they are early taught, by the impossibility of argument with +marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour and the blessings of +content.” + +“Pray go on,” I said politely. + +“These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all +praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the +strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent +rebukes. In Russia, not only _may_ a man beat his wife, but it is laid +down in the catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation +as necessary at least once a week, whether she has done anything or +not, for the sake of her general health and happiness.” + +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat +over these castigations. + +“Pray, my dear man,” I said, pointing with my whip, “look at that baby +moon so innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind +that silver birch; and don’t talk so much about women and things you +don’t understand. What is the use of your bothering about fists and +whips and muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the +confusion of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, +and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man.” + +“And a civilised wife?” he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me +and putting his arm round my waist, “has she ceased to be a woman?” + +“I should think so indeed,—she is a goddess, and can never be +worshipped and adored enough.” + +“It seems to me,” he said, “that the conversation is growing personal.” + +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. The +Hirschwald is an enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie +low on the turf, and overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver +birches stand out clear against the soft sky, while the little moon +looks down kindly on the damp November world. Where the trees thicken +into a wood, the fragrance of the wet earth and rotting leaves kicked +up by the horses’ hoofs fills my soul with delight. I particularly love +that smell,—it brings before me the entire benevolence of Nature, for +ever working death and decay, so piteous in themselves, into the means +of fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours as she works. + + + + +_December_ 7_th_.—I have been to England. I went for at least a month +and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. Twice I +fled before the fogs into the country to see friends with gardens, but +it was raining, and except the beautiful lawns (not to be had in the +Fatherland) and the infinite possibilities, there was nothing to +interest the intelligent and garden-loving foreigner, for the good +reason that you cannot be interested in gardens under an umbrella. So I +went back to the fogs, and after groping about for a few days more +began to long inordinately for Germany. A terrific gale sprang up after +I had started, and the journey both by sea and land was full of +horrors, the trains in Germany being heated to such an extent that it +is next to impossible to sit still, great gusts of hot air coming up +under the cushions, the cushions themselves being very hot, and the +wretched traveller still hotter. + +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, +brightest snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed +to be listening, the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot +and on the trees, and a happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, +I was consoled for all my torments, only remembering them enough to +wonder why I had gone away at all. + +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant bouquet of pine +needles and grass in the other, and what with the due presentation of +the bouquets and the struggles of the kittens, the hugging and kissing +was much interfered with. Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all +somehow squeezed into the sleigh, and off we went with jingling bells +and shrieks of delight. “Directly you comes home the fun begins,” said +the May baby, sitting very close to me. “How the snow purrs!” cried the +April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their feet. The June +baby sat loudly singing “The King of Love my Shepherd is,” and swinging +her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. + +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode of peace, and +I ran through all the rooms, eager to take possession of them again, +and feeling as though I had been away for ever. When I got to the +library I came to a standstill,—ah, the dear room, what happy times I +have spent in it rummaging amongst the books, making plans for my +garden, building castles in the air, writing, dreaming, doing nothing! +There was a big peat fire blazing half up the chimney, and the old +housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, and on the writing-table was +a great bunch of violets scenting the room. “Oh, how _good_ it is to be +home again!” I sighed in my satisfaction. The babies clung about my +knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. Outside the dazzling +snow and sunshine, inside the bright room and happy faces—I thought of +those yellow fogs and shivered. The library is not used by the Man of +Wrath; it is neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour +before he disappears into his own rooms—a series of very smoky dens in +the southeast corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, rather too +gay for an ideal library; and its colouring, white and yellow, is so +cheerful as to be almost frivolous. There are white bookcases all round +the walls, and there is a great fireplace, and four windows, facing +full south, opening on to my most cherished bit of garden, the bit +round the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such a big fire and +such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, in spite of +the venerable volumes filling the shelves. Indeed, I should never be +surprised if they skipped down from their places, and, picking up their +leaves, began to dance. + +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity +to being snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go +into the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of +purity. The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that +it makes me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of +all the spotlessness. Yesterday I sat out of doors near the sun-dial +the whole afternoon, with the thermometer so many degrees below +freezing that it will be weeks finding its way up again; but there was +no wind, and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. I +even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, and +sat till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. I had to +drink the tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination to begin +to freeze. After the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their +nests in the garden with a great fuss and fluttering, and many +hesitations and squabbles before they settled on their respective +trees. They flew over my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings, +and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an intense hush fell +upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas card, +with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, +and lamplight shining in the windows. + +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, in the +intervals between looking round me and being happy. He came one day +with the book and begged me to read it, having discovered that my +interest in Luther was not as living as it ought to be; so I took it +out with me into the garden, because the dullest book takes on a +certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, +devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. I +read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at the +garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. His struggles +with devils amazed me; and I wondered whether such a day as that, full +of grace and the forgiveness of sins, never struck him as something to +make him relent even towards devils. He apparently never allowed +himself just to be happy. He was a wonderful man, but I am glad I was +not his wife. + +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts to +improve himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare +moment, and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one +hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, of course, +getting the greater share of her attention. To most German _Hausfraus_ +the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance, and they +pride themselves on keeping those parts of their houses that are seen +in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, and this is +exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, are there not +other things even more important? And is not plain living and high +thinking better than the other way about? And all too careful making of +dinners and dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious +time, and—and with shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the +pudding and the grammar. It cannot be right to be the slave of one’s +household gods, and I protest that if my furniture ever annoyed me by +wanting to be dusted when I wanted to be doing something else, and +there was no one to do the dusting for me, I would cast it all into the +nearest bonfire and sit and warm my toes at the flames with great +contentment, triumphantly selling my dusters to the very next pedlar +who was weak enough to buy them. Parsons’ wives have to do the +housework and cooking themselves, and are thus not only cooks and +housemaids, but if they have children—and they always do have +children—they are head and under nurse as well; and besides these +trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit and vegetable +garden, and everything to do with their poultry. This being so, is it +not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling to learn +languages and keep up with her husband? If I were that husband, those +puddings would taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin sauce. +They are both severely pious, and are for ever engaged in desperate +efforts to practise what they preach; than which, as we all know, +nothing is more difficult. He works in his parish with the most noble +self-devotion, and never loses courage, although his efforts have been +several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the +street-corners, thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden +wall. The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a +sensitive, intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before +swine. For years he has gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most +living faith and hope and charity, and I sometimes wonder whether they +are any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor, +a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night, +never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty congregation +waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap. It +is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave the parish +to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never seems discouraged, +and goes on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when +all his tastes are literary, and all his inclinations towards the life +of the student. His convictions drag him out of his little home at all +hours to minister to the sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no +rest, and never let him feel he has done enough; and when he comes home +weary, after a day’s wrestling with his parishioners’ souls, he is +confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front +door. He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid? +Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, +and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the +most astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, roomy +cottage, and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. His +predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry, but +then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency, and had +finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon of a most +vituperative description, and hurling invective at the Man of Wrath, +who sat up in his box drinking in every word and enjoying himself +thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes novelty, and such a sermon had never +been heard before. It is spoken of in the village to this day with +bated breath and awful joy. + + + + +_December_ 22_nd_.—Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. Clear +skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch now and then, +very few really cold days. My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies +of the valley; and though, as I have said, I don’t admire the smell of +hyacinths in the spring when it seems wanting in youth and chastity +next to that of other flowers, I am glad enough now to bury my nose in +their heavy sweetness. In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; +besides, one is actually less fastidious about everything in the +winter. The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness, and +the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly welcome +then. + +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have often locked myself up +in a room alone, shutting out my unfinished duties, to study the flower +catalogues and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the +spring. It is a fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional +charm when you know you ought to be doing something else, that +Christmas is at the door, that children and servants and farm hands +depend on you for their pleasure, and that, if you don’t see to the +decoration of the trees and house, and the buying of the presents, +nobody else will. The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and +with Duty snarling on the other side of the door. I don’t like +Duty—everything in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one’s +duty. Why cannot it be my duty to make lists and plans for the dear +garden? “And so it _is_,” I insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he +protested against what he called wasting my time upstairs. “No,” he +replied sagely; “your garden is not your duty, because it is your +Pleasure.” + +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly at my +disposal! Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given to have a +sage, and the combination of both is as rare as it is useful. Indeed, +in its practical utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it is a +sofa my neighbour has bought as a Christmas surprise for her husband, +and which she showed me the last time I called there—a beautiful +invention, as she explained, combining a bedstead, a sofa, and a chest +of drawers, and into which you put your clothes, and on top of which +you put yourself, and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and +you happen to be using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the +bedclothes inside, and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa +and looking for all the world as though you had been expecting visitors +for hours. + +“Pray, does he wear pyjamas?” I inquired. + +But she had never heard of pyjamas. + +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. I want to have a border +all yellow, every shade of yellow from fieriest orange to nearly white, +and the amount of work and studying of gardening books it costs me will +only be appreciated by beginners like myself. I have been weeks +planning it, and it is not nearly finished. I want it to be a +succession of glories from May till the frosts, and the chief feature +is to be the number of “ardent marigolds”—flowers that I very tenderly +love—and nasturtiums. The nasturtiums are to be of every sort and +shade, and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show their +lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. Then there are to be +eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, +yellow violas, yellow stocks, yellow sweet-peas, yellow +lupins—everything that is yellow or that has a yellow variety. The +place I have chosen for it is a long, wide border in the sun, at the +foot of a grassy slope crowned with lilacs and pines, and facing +southeast. You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a corner, +are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. I want it +to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, cool path through the +wood. + +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon the probable +difference between the idea and its realisation. I am ignorant, and the +gardener is, I do believe, still more so; for he was forcing some +tulips, and they have all shrivelled up and died, and he says he cannot +imagine why. Besides, he is in love with the cook, and is going to +marry her after Christmas, and refuses to enter into any of my plans +with the enthusiasm they deserve, but sits with vacant eye dreamily +chopping wood from morning till night to keep the beloved one’s kitchen +fire well supplied. I cannot understand any one preferring cooks to +marigolds; those future marigolds, shadowy as they are, and whose seeds +are still sleeping at the seedsman’s, have shone through my winter days +like golden lamps. + +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first thing I +should do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I should +have the delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands +and need not waste time explaining what I want done to somebody else. +It is dull work giving orders and trying to describe the bright visions +of one’s brain to a person who has no visions and no brain, and who +thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias edged with blue. + +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those +humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my +soil is by no means all that it might be, and to most plants the +climate is rather trying. I feel really grateful to any flower that is +sturdy and willing enough to flourish here. Pansies seem to like the +place and so do sweet-peas; pinks don’t, and after much coaxing gave +hardly any flowers last summer. Nearly all the roses were a success, in +spite of the sandy soil, except the tea-rose Adam, which was covered +with buds ready to open, when they suddenly turned brown and died, and +three standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. I had +been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description in the catalogues +being specially fascinating, and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I +got. “Never be excited, my dears, about _anything_,” shall be the +advice I will give the three babies when the time comes to take them +out to parties, “or, if you are, don’t show it. If by nature you are +volcanoes, at least be only smouldering ones. Don’t look pleased, don’t +look interested, don’t, above all things, look eager. Calm indifference +should be written on every feature of your faces. Never show that you +like any one person, or any one thing. Be cool, languid, and reserved. +If you don’t do as your mother tells you and are just gushing, frisky, +young idiots, snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you’ll marry princes and live happily ever after.” + +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of the world the more you +are pleased to see a person the less is he pleased to see you; whereas, +if you are disagreeable, he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance +expanding into wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. +But I was not prepared for that sort of thing in a rose, and was +disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the best place in the garden—warm, +sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared with the tenderest care; +he was given the most dainty mixture of compost, clay, and manure; he +was watered assiduously all through the drought when more willing +flowers got nothing; and he refused to do anything but look black and +shrivel. He did not die, but neither did he live—he just existed; and +at the end of the summer not one of him had a scrap more shoot or leaf +than when he was first put in in April. It would have been better if he +had died straight away, for then I should have known what to do; as it +is, there he is still occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully +for the winter, excluding kinder roses, and probably intending to +repeat the same conduct next year. Well, trials are the portion of +mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any case it is better +to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that with plants you know +that it is you who are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the +other way about—and who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of +injured innocence, and known them to be grievous? + +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing to +provoke such an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy +little Christmas alone with the Man of Wrath and the babies. Fate +decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, if I look forward to anything, Fate +steps in and decrees otherwise; I don’t know why it should, but it +does. I had not even invited these good ladies—like greatness on the +modest, they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet singer of the +summer, whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly thought I +had seen the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I +would have her over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she +didn’t like him in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, +full of sympathy, I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other +is Minora. + +Why I have to have Minora I don’t know, for I was not even aware of her +existence a fortnight ago. Then coming down cheerfully one morning to +breakfast—it was the very day after my return from England—I found a +letter from an English friend, who up till then had been perfectly +innocuous, asking me to befriend Minora. I read the letter aloud for +the benefit of the Man of Wrath, who was eating _Spickgans_, a delicacy +much sought after in these parts. “Do, my dear Elizabeth,” wrote my +friend, “take some notice of the poor thing. She is studying art in +Dresden, and has nowhere literally to go for Christmas. She is very +ambitious and hardworking—” + +“Then,” interrupted the Man of Wrath, “she is not pretty. Only ugly +girls work hard.” + +“—and she is really very clever—” + +“I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid,” again interrupted the +Man of Wrath. + +“—and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity on her she +will be very lonely.” + +“Then let her be lonely.” + +“Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to +think that her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a +season.” + +“I do not mind the distress of the mother.” + +“Oh, dear me,” I exclaimed impatiently, “I shall have to ask her to +come!” + +“If you _should_ be inclined,” the letter went on, “to play the good +Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would find Minora a +bright, intelligent companion—” + +“Minora?” questioned the Man of Wrath. + +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether +alarmingly zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, +looked up from her bread and milk. + +“It sounds like islands,” she remarked pensively. + +The governess coughed. + +“Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark,” explained her pupil. + +I looked at her severely. + +“If you are not careful, April,” I said, “you’ll be a genius when you +grow up and disgrace your parents.” + +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. I am afraid she +despises us because she thinks we are foreigners—an attitude of mind +quite British and wholly to her credit; but we, on the other hand, +regard _her_ as a foreigner, which, of course, makes things +complicated. + +“Shall I really have to have this strange girl?” I asked, addressing +nobody in particular and not expecting a reply. + +“You need not have her,” said the Man of Wrath composedly, “but you +will. You will write to-day and cordially invite her, and when she has +been here twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. I know you, my +dear.” + +“Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?” + +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually scenting a scene, and +is always ready to bring whole batteries of discretion and tact and +good taste to bear on us, and seems to know we are disputing in an +unseemly manner when we would never dream it ourselves but for the +warning of her downcast eyes. I would take my courage in both hands and +ask her to go, for besides this superfluity of discreet behaviour she +is, although only nursery, much too zealous, and inclined to be always +teaching and never playing; but, unfortunately, the April baby adores +her and is sure there never was any one so beautiful before. She comes +every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of her wardrobe, and +feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; and Miss Jones looks +offended and purses up her lips. In common with most governesses, she +has a little dark down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared +one day at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, having +achieved it after much struggling, with the aid of a lead pencil and +unbounded love. Miss Jones put her in the corner for impertinence. I +wonder why governesses are so unpleasant. The Man of Wrath says it is +because they are not married. Without venturing to differ entirely from +the opinion of experience, I would add that the strain of continually +having to set an example must surely be very great. It is much easier, +and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, and +governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, and when +you want to be foolish it must be annoying to have to be wise. + +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, when the +carriage drove up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed me that +there was a strange girl on a bicycle a little way behind. I sent back +the carriage to pick her up, for it was dusk and the roads are +terrible. + +“But why do you have strange girls here at all?” asked Irais rather +peevishly, taking off her hat in the library before the fire, and +otherwise making herself very much at home; “I don’t like them. I’m not +sure that they’re not worse than husbands who are out of order. Who is +she? She would bicycle from the station, and is, I am sure, the first +woman who has done it. The little boys threw stones at her.” + +“Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. Never +mind her. Let us have tea in peace before she comes.” + +“But we should be much happier without her,” she grumbled. “Weren’t we +happy enough in the summer, Elizabeth—just you and I?” + +“Yes, indeed we were,” I answered heartily, putting my arms round her. +The flame of my affection for Irais burns very brightly on the day of +her arrival; besides, this time I have prudently provided against her +sinning with the salt-cellars by ordering them to be handed round like +vegetable dishes. We had finished tea and she had gone up to her room +to dress before Minora and her bicycle were got here. I hurried out to +meet her, feeling sorry for her, plunged into a circle of strangers at +such a very personal season as Christmas. But she was not very shy; +indeed, she was less shy than I was, and lingered in the hall, giving +the servants directions to wipe the snow off the tyres of her machine +before she lent an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. + +“I couldn’t make your man understand me at the station,” she said at +last, when her mind was at rest about her bicycle; “I asked him how far +it was, and what the roads were like, and he only smiled. Is he German? +But of course he is—how odd that he didn’t understand. You speak +English very well,—very well indeed, do you know.” By this time we were +in the library, and she stood on the hearth-rug warming her back while +I poured her out some tea. + +“What a quaint room,” she remarked, looking round, “and the hall is so +curious too. Very old, isn’t it? There’s a lot of copy here.” + +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival and had come +in with us, began to look about on the carpet. “Copy?” he inquired, +“Where’s copy?” + +“Oh—material, you know, for a book. I’m just jotting down what strikes +me in your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book +form.” She spoke very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. + +“My dear,” I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room +and shut the door and Minora was safely in hers, “what do you think—she +writes books!” + +“What—the bicycling girl?” + +“Yes—Minora—imagine it!” + +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. + +“How dreadful!” murmured Irais. “I never met a young girl who did that +before.” + +“She says this place is full of copy.” + +“Full of what?” + +“That’s what you make books with.” + +“Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is always a +bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her. But a girl +who writes books—why, it isn’t respectable! And you can’t snub that +sort of people; they’re unsnubbable.” + +“Oh, but we’ll try!” I cried, with such heartiness that we both +laughed. + +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she lingered so +long after dinner in the hall, which is cold, that the Man of Wrath put +on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint. His hints are always gentle. + +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and the nuns and +Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book began to take down +what I said. I at once relapsed into silence. + +“Well?” she said. + +“That’s all.” + +“Oh, but you’ve only just begun.” + +“It doesn’t go any further. Won’t you come into the library?” + +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire and warmed +herself, and we sat in a row and were cold. She has a wonderfully good +profile, which is irritating. The wind, however, is tempered to the +shorn lamb by her eyes being set too closely together. + +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, contemplated her +critically beneath her long eyelashes. “You are writing a book?” she +asked presently. + +“Well—yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, you +know, of your country. Anything that strikes me as curious or amusing—I +jot it down, and when I have time shall work it up into something, I +daresay.” + +“Are you not studying painting?” + +“Yes, but I can’t study that for ever. We have an English proverb: +‘Life is short and Art is long’—too long, I sometimes think—and writing +is a great relaxation when I am tired.” + +“What shall you call it?” + +“Oh, I thought of calling it _Journeyings in Germany_. It sounds well, +and would be correct. Or _Jottings from German Journeyings_,—I haven’t +quite decided yet which.” + +“By the author of _Prowls in Pomerania_, you might add,” suggested +Irais. + +“And _Drivel from Dresden_,” said I. + +“And _Bosh from Berlin_,” added Irais. + +Minora stared. “I don’t think those two last ones would do,” she said, +“because it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is rather +a good title,” she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her +note-book. “I think I’ll just jot that down.” + +“If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your +book?” asked Irais. + +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. + +“And have _you_ no suggestions to make, Sage?” asked Irais, turning to +the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. + +“Oh, do you call him Sage?” cried Minora; “and always in English?” + +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and +were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her +note-book. The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded +to under his very nose by our new guest as “him.” + +“Husbands are always sages,” said I gravely. + +“Though sages are not always husbands,” said Irais with equal gravity. +“Sages and husbands—sage and husbands—” she went on musingly, “what +does that remind you of, Miss Minora?” + +“Oh, I know,—how stupid of me!” cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in +mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, “sage +and,—why,—yes,—no,—yes, of course—oh,” disappointedly, “but that’s +vulgar—I can’t put it in.” + +“What is vulgar?” I asked. + +“She thinks sage and onions is vulgar,” said Irais languidly; “but it +isn’t, it is very good.” She got up and walked to the piano, and, +sitting down, began, after a little wandering over the keys, to sing. + +“Do you play?” I asked Minora. + +“Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice.” + +I said no more. I know what _that_ sort of playing is. + +When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to +speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. “What is the matter with her?” +murmured Irais. + +“I thought, perhaps,” said Minora in English, “you might prefer to talk +German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk—” + +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Irais. “We like airing our English—don’t +we, Elizabeth?” + +“I don’t want my German to get rusty though,” said Minora; “I shouldn’t +like to forget it.” + +“Oh, but isn’t there an English song,” said Irais, twisting round her +neck as she preceded us upstairs, “‘’Tis folly to remember, ’tis wisdom +to forget’?” + +“You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope,” I said hastily. + +“What room is she in?” asked Irais. + +“No. 12.” + +“Oh!—do you believe in ghosts?” + +Minora turned pale. + +“What nonsense,” said I; “we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you +want anything, mind you ring.” + +“And if you see anything curious in that room,” called Irais from her +bedroom door, “mind you jot it down.” + + + + +_December_ 27_th_—It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas as +a bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are +invited to over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just +cause. As a matter of fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic +institutions possible, if observed in the proper manner, and after +having been more or less unpleasant to everybody for a whole year, it +is a blessing to be forced on that one day to be amiable, and it is +certainly delightful to be able to give presents without being haunted +by the conviction that you are spoiling the recipient, and will suffer +for it afterward. Servants are only big children, and are made just as +happy as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, for +days beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden they +expect to meet the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They +firmly believe that it is thus their presents are brought, and it is +such a charming idea that Christmas would be worth celebrating for its +sake alone. + +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve entirely on me, +and it is not very easy work, with so many people in our own house and +on each of the farms, and all the children, big and little, expecting +their share of happiness. The library is uninhabitable for several days +before and after, as it is there that we have the trees and presents. +All down one side are the trees, and the other three sides are lined +with tables, a separate one for each person in the house. When the +trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance shining down on the +happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, and the number of +times I have had to run up and down stairs, and the various aches in +head and feet, and enjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby +is ushered in, then the others and ourselves according to age, then the +servants, then come the head inspector and his family, the other +inspectors from the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and +secretaries, and then all the children, troops and troops of them—the +big ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying the babies in +their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. As many as can get +in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or three carols; then they +are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, making room for the +next batch. My three babies sang lustily too, whether they happened to +know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses in honour of +the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed in a low-necked and +short-sleeved garment, after the manner of Teutonic infants, whatever +the state of the thermometer. Her arms are like miniature +prize-fighter’s arms—I never saw such things; they are the pride and +joy of her little nurse, who had tied them up with blue ribbons, and +kept on kissing them. I shall certainly not be able to take her to +balls when she grows up, if she goes on having arms like that. + +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. +The April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, which +she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but because +she was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me +absently, and went away, only the April baby glancing at the trees as +she passed and making them a curtesy. + +“Good-bye, trees,” I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese doll +bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blasé fashion. +“_You’ll_ never see such trees again,” she told him, giving him a +vindictive shake, “for you’ll be brokened _long_ before next time.” + +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. + +“Thank the _Christkind_ so _much_, Mummy, won’t you, for all the lovely +things He brought us. I suppose you’re writing to Him now, isn’t you?” + +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, and we +were perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least two +days it brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. +Happiness is so wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety far +more effectually than any amount of trials and griefs, and an +unexpected pleasure is the surest means of bringing me to my knees. In +spite of the protestations of some peculiarly constructed persons that +they are the better for trials, I don’t believe it. Such things must +sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, and make us kinder, and +more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it behoves us to be more +thankful for trials than for blessings? We were meant to be happy, and +to accept all the happiness offered with thankfulness—indeed, we are +none of us ever thankful enough, and yet we each get so much, so very +much, more than we deserve. I know a woman—she stayed with me last +summer—who rejoices grimly when those she loves suffer. She believes +that it is our lot, and that it braces us and does us good, and she +would shield no one from even unnecessary pain; she weeps with the +sufferer, but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her +continue in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the +beauty and the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire +to possess one; her convictions have the sad gray colouring of the +dingy streets and houses she lives amongst—the sad colour of humanity +in masses. Submission to what people call their “lot” is simply +ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and +take another; strike out for yourself; don’t listen to the shrieks of +your relations, to their gibes or their entreaties; don’t let your own +microscopic set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don’t be +afraid of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next +house, when all the world is before you new and shining, and everything +is possible, if you will only be energetic and independent and seize +opportunity by the scruff of the neck. + +“To hear you talk,” said Irais, “no one would ever imagine that you +dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in +your life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is +scruff? I hope I have not got any on me.” And she craned her neck +before the glass. + +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon +Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a +book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies—it was Miss Jones’s last +public appearance, as I shall relate—and after working for the best +part of two days they were finished, and looked like lovely ladies in +widespreading, sparkling petticoats, holding up their skirts with +glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long description of them for a +chapter of her book which is headed _Noel_,—I saw that much, because +she left it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. +They were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said to be +natural to take to one’s own countrymen, I am unable altogether to +sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection. + +“I wonder what they talk about?” I said to Irais yesterday, when there +was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in +conversation with Miss Jones. + +“Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think +they are clever, and then they talk rubbish.” + +“Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever.” + +“I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your +governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine +she must have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can’t hear that +every day. What is the matter with her?” + +“I don’t think she feels quite as proper as she looks,” I said +doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones’s +expression. + +“But that must be rather nice,” said Irais. “It would be awful for her +if she felt exactly the same as she looks.” + +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, and +the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, +leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying— + +“Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be +terrible. Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have +continually to pose before their flock as such. As for governesses, +Miss Minora, I know what I am saying when I affirm that there is +nothing more intolerable than to have to be polite, and even humble, to +persons whose weaknesses and follies are glaringly apparent in every +word they utter, and to be forced by the presence of children and +employers to a dignity of manner in no way corresponding to one’s +feelings. The grave father of a family, who was probably one of the +least respectable of bachelors, is an interesting study at his own +table, where he is constrained to assume airs of infallibility merely +because his children are looking at him. The fact of his being a parent +does not endow him with any supreme and sudden virtue; and I can assure +you that among the eyes fixed upon him, not the least critical and +amused are those of the humble person who fills the post of governess.” + +“Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!” we heard Minora say in accents of +rapture, while we sat transfixed with horror at these sentiments. “Do +you mind if I put that down in my book? You say it all so beautifully.” + +“Without a few hours of relaxation,” continued Miss Jones, “of private +indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed in public, who could +wade through days of correct behaviour? There would be no reaction, no +room for better impulses, no place for repentance. Parents, priests, +and governesses would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has +a quiet moment in which she can take off her corsets.” + +“My dear, what a firebrand!” whispered Irais. I got up and went in. +They were sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing +admiringly into Miss Jones’s face, which wore a very different +expression from the one of sour and unwilling propriety I have been +used to seeing. + +“May I ask you to come to tea?” I said to Minora. “And I should like to +have the children a little while.” + +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door open until she +had gone in and the two babies had followed. They had been playing at +stuffing each other’s ears with pieces of newspaper while Miss Jones +provided Minora with noble thoughts for her work, and had to be +tortured afterward with tweezers. I said nothing to Minora, but kept +her with us till dinner-time, and this morning we went for a long +sleigh-drive. When we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. + +“Is Miss Jones ill?” asked Minora. + +“She is gone,” I said. + +“Gone?” + +“Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?” asked Irais +blandly; and we talked resolutely of something else. + +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, and +it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often +are. It is enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, poor +thing, that she should have preferred the society of a Miss Jones to +that of Irais and myself. + +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. “You look so +pale,” she said; “are you not well?” + +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one who likes +to be thought a sufferer. “I have a slight headache,” she replied +gently. + +“I hope you are not going to be ill,” said Irais with great concern, +“because there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means +well, I believe he is rather rough.” Minora was plainly startled. “But +what do you do if you are ill?” she asked. + +“Oh, we are never ill,” said I; “the very knowledge that there would be +no one to cure us seems to keep us healthy.” + +“And if any one takes to her bed,” said Irais, “Elizabeth always calls +in the cow-doctor.” + +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part +of the world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised +creature besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. +Whatever her reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. + + + + +_January_ 1_st_.—The service on New Year’s Eve is the only one in the +whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and +then the very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial +produce an effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. +Last night we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles +in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns. We sat wrapped +up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a funeral procession. + +“We are going to the burial of our last year’s sins,” said Irais, as we +started; and there certainly was a funereal sort of feeling in the air. +Up in our gallery pew we tried to decipher our chorales by the light of +the spluttering tallow candles stuck in holes in the woodwork, the +flames wildly blown about by the draughts. The wind banged against the +windows in great gusts, screaming louder than the organ, and +threatening to blow out the agitated lights together. The parson in his +gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a framework of dusty carved angels, took +on an awful appearance of menacing Authority as he raised his voice to +make himself heard above the clatter. Sitting there in the dark, I felt +very small, and solitary, and defenceless, alone in a great, big, black +world. The church was as cold as a tomb; some of the candles guttered +and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke of death and judgment; +I thought I heard a child’s voice screaming, and could hardly believe +it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; all my +faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I +should probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise +idea. If it had not been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so +despairingly, I should have paid little attention to the threats +issuing from the pulpit; but, as it was, I fell to making good +resolutions. This is always a bad sign,—only those who break them make +them; and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is right as +it comes, any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely +superfluous. I have for some years past left off making them on New +Year’s Eve, and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing +so last night; for I have long since discovered that, though the year +and the resolutions may be new, I myself am not, and it is worse than +useless putting new wine into old bottles. + +“But I am not an old bottle,” said Irais indignantly, when I held forth +to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored +to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, “and I find my +resolutions carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them at the +end of each month, and strike out the unnecessary ones. By the end of +April they have been so severely revised that there are none left.” + +“There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new +contents would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, +and the practice of your resolutions would lose its bitterness by +becoming a habit.” + +She shook her head. “Such things never lose their bitterness,” she +said, “and that is why I don’t let them cling to me right into the +summer. When May comes, I give myself up to jollity with all the rest +of the world, and am too busy being happy to bother about anything I +may have resolved when the days were cold and dark.” + +“And that is just why I love you,” I thought. She often says what I +feel. + +“I wonder,” she went on after a pause, “whether men ever make +resolutions?” + +“I don’t think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. It is a +nice sort of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, giving way to +endless grief and penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes in +contrition; but it is silly. Why cry over things that are done? Why do +naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? Nobody is +naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really repents +unless they are afraid they are going to be found out.” + +“By ‘nobody’ of course you mean women,” said Irais. + +“Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the +courage of their opinions.” + +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais in the amiably +polite tone she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. + +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting round the fire, +waiting for the New Year, and sipping _Glühwein_, prepared at a small +table by the Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, and rather nasty, but +it is proper to drink it on this one night, so of course we did. + +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon discovered +that, and laugh about it when we are alone together. I can understand +her disliking Irais, but she must be a perverse creature not to like +me. Irais has poked fun at her, and I have been, I hope, very kind; yet +we are bracketed together in her black books. It is also apparent that +she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an interesting example of an +ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is disposed to take him +under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against us. He never +speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, as far as +Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, and sits +sphinx-like and impenetrable while she takes us to task about some +remark of a profane nature that we may have addressed to him. One +night, some days after her arrival, she developed a skittishness of +manner which has since disappeared, and tried to be playful with him; +but you might as well try to be playful with a graven image. The wife +of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the first after a +series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health of all +parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink a +glass off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. +Minora thought the incident typical of German manners, and not only +made notes about it, but joined heartily in the health-drinking, and +afterward grew skittish. + +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the +Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England; and, +to induce us to learn, she played the tune to us on the piano. We +remained untouched by its beauties, each buried in an easy-chair +toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst those toes were those of the Man +of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and smoking. Minora +volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, danced +solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look, +and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve +to be placed in Minora’s list of disagreeable people side by side with +Irais? Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. + +“It wants the music, of course,” observed Minora breathlessly, darting +in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing +at the Man of Wrath. + +No answer from anybody. + +“It is _such_ a pretty dance,” she panted again, after a few more +gyrations. + +No answer. + +“And is all the rage at home.” + +No answer. + +“Do let me teach you. Won’t _you_ try, Herr Sage?” + +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she +always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to +every one else, that he resents it. + +“Oh come, put away that tiresome old book,” she went on gaily, as he +did not move; “I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that +you just nod over. Dancing is much better for you.” Irais and I looked +at one another quite frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the +unhappy girl actually laid hold forcibly of his book, and, with a +playful little shriek, ran away with it into the next room, hugging it +to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she +ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. Then the +Man of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of his +cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his +own rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, +I must say, been skittish since. + +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais, “because this sort +of conversation is likely to do you good.” + +“I always listen when people talk sensibly,” replied Minora, stirring +her grog. + +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. “Do you agree +with our hostess’s description of women?” she asked after a pause. + +“As nobodies? No, of course I do not.” + +“Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally nobodies in +our country. Did you know that women are forbidden to go to political +meetings here?” + +“Really?” Out came the note-book. + +“The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings of women, +children, and idiots.” + +“Children and idiots—I understand that,” said Minora; “but women—and +classed with children and idiots?” + +“Classed with children and idiots,” repeated Irais, gravely nodding her +head. “Did you know that the law forbids females of any age to ride on +the top of omnibuses or tramcars?” + +“Not really?” + +“Do you know why?” + +“I can’t imagine.” + +“Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps +catch a glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles.” + +“But what—” + +“Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?” + +“But I don’t see how a stocking—” + +“With stripes round it,” said Irais. + +“And darns in it,” I added. + +“—could possibly be pernicious?” + +“‘The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,’” +said Irais. “Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany.” + +“I never know,” complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, “whether +you are in earnest or not.” + +“Don’t you?” said Irais sweetly. + +“Is it true,” appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons +in the background, “that your law classes women with children and +idiots?” + +“Certainly,” he answered promptly, “and a very proper classification, +too.” + +We all looked blank. “That’s rude,” said I at last. + +“Truth is always rude, my dear,” he replied complacently. Then he +added, “If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had +previously enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, of +listening to the conversation of you three young ladies, I should make +precisely the same classification.” + +Even Minora was incensed at this. + +“You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we are idiots,” +said Irais. + +“Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,—nice little agreeable +children. I very much like to hear you talk together. It is all so +young and fresh what you think and what you believe, and not of the +least consequence to any one.” + +“Not of the least consequence?” cried Minora. “What we believe is of +very great consequence indeed to us.” + +“Are you jeering at our beliefs?” inquired Irais sternly. + +“Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb or change your +pretty little beliefs. It is your chief charm that you always believe +every-thing. How desperate would our case be if young ladies only +believed facts, and never accepted another person’s assurance, but +preferred the evidence of their own eyes! They would have no illusions, +and a woman without illusions is the dreariest and most difficult thing +to manage possible.” + +“Thing?” protested Irais. + +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it from time to time +by holding forth at unnecessary length. He took up his stand now with +his back to the fire, and a glass of _Glühwein_ in his hand. Minora had +hardly heard his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, and +sat with her pencil raised, ready to fix for ever the wisdom that +should flow from his lips. + +“What would become of poetry if women became so sensible that they +turned a deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? That love does +indulge in platitudes I suppose you will admit.” He looked at Irais. + +“Yes, they all say exactly the same thing,” she acknowledged. + +“Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, +if the listener’s want of imagination was such as to enable her only to +distinguish one victim in the picture, and that one herself?” + +Minora took that down word for word,—much good may it do her. + +“Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused he will die, if +his assurances merely elicit a recommendation to diet himself, and take +plenty of outdoor exercise? Women are responsible for such lies, +because they believe them. Their amazing vanity makes them swallow +flattery so gross that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to +tell the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to. Who +indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than the lover who +hopes, and has not yet obtained? He will, like the nightingale, sing +with unceasing modulations, display all his talent, untiringly repeat +his sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his song, like the +nightingale’s, immediately ceases, never again to be heard.” + +“Take that down,” murmured Irais aside to Minora—unnecessary advice, +for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. + +“A woman’s vanity is so immeasurable that, after having had ninety-nine +object-lessons in the difference between promise and performance and +the emptiness of pretty speeches, the beginning of the hundredth will +find her lending the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence of +flattery as she did on the occasion of the first. What can the +exhortations of the strong-minded sister, who has never had these +experiences, do for such a woman? It is useless to tell her she is +man’s victim, that she is his plaything, that she is cheated, +down-trodden, kept under, laughed at, shabbily treated in every +way—that is not a true statement of the case. She is simply the victim +of her own vanity, and against that, against the belief in her own +fascinations, against the very part of herself that gives all the +colour to her life, who shall expect a woman to take up arms?” + +“Are you so vain, Elizabeth?” inquired Irais with a shocked face, “and +had you lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine before +you reached your final destiny?” + +“I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose,” I replied, “for nobody ever +wanted me to listen to blandishments.” + +Minora sighed. + +“I like to hear you talk together about the position of women,” he went +on, “and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly the +position they are fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a +better, no power on earth will be able to keep them out of it. +Meanwhile, let me warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded +women wish to see you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are +invariably plain. The pretty ones would rather see men their slaves +than their equals.” + +“You know,” said Irais, frowning, “that I consider myself +strong-minded.” + +“And never rise till lunch-time?” + +Irais blushed. Although I don’t approve of such conduct, it is very +convenient in more ways than one; I get through my housekeeping +undisturbed, and whenever she is disposed to lecture me, I begin about +this habit of hers. Her conscience must be terribly stricken on the +point, for she is by no means as a rule given to meekness. + +“A woman without vanity would be unattackable,” resumed the Man of +Wrath. “When a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, she +is led solely by her own vanity; for in these days of policemen no +young woman can be forced against her will from the path of virtue, and +the cries of the injured are never heard until the destroyer begins to +express his penitence for having destroyed. If his passion could remain +at white-heat and he could continue to feed her ear with the +protestations she loves, no principles of piety or virtue would disturb +the happiness of his companion; for a mournful experience teaches that +piety begins only where passion ends, and that principles are strongest +where temptations are most rare.” + +“But what has all this to do with us?” I inquired severely. + +“You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, and I merely +wish to justify it,” he answered. “Creatures who habitually say _yes_ +to everything a man proposes, when no one can oblige them to say it, +and when it is so often fatal, are plainly not responsible beings.” + +“I shall never say it to you again, my dear man,” I said. + +“And not only _that_ fatal weakness,” he continued, “but what is there, +candidly, to distinguish you from children? You are older, but not +wiser,—really not so wise, for with years you lose the common sense you +had as children. Have you ever heard a group of women talking +reasonably together?” + +“Yes—we do!” Irais and I cried in a breath. + +“It has interested me,” went on the Man of Wrath, “in my idle moments, +to listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little +stories they told of their best friends who were absent, to note the +spiteful little digs they gave their best friends who were present, to +watch the utter incredulity with which they listened to the tale of +some other woman’s conquests, the radiant good faith they displayed in +connection with their own, the instant collapse into boredom, if some +topic of so-called general interest, by some extraordinary chance, were +introduced.” + +“You must have belonged to a particularly nice set,” remarked Irais. + +“And as for politics,” he said, “I have never heard them mentioned +among women.” + +“Children and idiots are not interested in such things,” I said. + +“And we are much too frightened of being put in prison,” said Irais. + +“In prison?” echoed Minora. + +“Don’t you know,” said Irais, turning to her “that if you talk about +such things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?” + +“But why?” + +“But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant nothing but what +was innocent, your words may have suggested something less innocent to +the evil minds of your hearers; and then the law steps in, and calls it +_dolus eventualis_, and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to +prison and are punished as you deserve to be.” + +Minora looked mystified. + +“That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them,” said +the Man of Wrath; “they simply do not interest you. Or it may be, that +you do not consider your female friends’ opinions worth listening to, +for you certainly display an astonishing thirst for information when +male politicians are present. I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly +in her twenties, sitting a whole evening drinking in the doubtful +wisdom of an elderly political star, with every appearance of eager +interest. He was a bimetallic star, and was giving her whole +pamphletsful of information.” + +“She wanted to make up to him for some reason,” said Irais, “and got +him to explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken +in. Now which was the sillier in that case?” + +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, beating +her foot impatiently on the carpet. + +“She wanted to be thought clever,” said the Man of Wrath. “What puzzled +me,” he went on musingly, “was that she went away apparently as serene +and happy as when she came. The explanation of the principles of +bimetallism produce, as a rule, a contrary effect.” + +“Why, she hadn’t been listening,” cried Irais, “and your simple star +had been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. + +“Prattle, prattle, simple star, +Bimetallic, _wunderbar_. +Though you’re given to describe +Woman as a _dummes Weib_. +You yourself are sillier far, +Prattling, bimetallic star!” + +“No doubt she had understood very little,” said the Man of Wrath, +taking no notice of this effusion. + +“And no doubt the gentleman hadn’t understood much either.” Irais was +plainly irritated. + +“Your opinion of woman,” said Minora in a very small voice, “is not a +high one. But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree that no one +could take her place?” + +“If you are thinking of hospital-nurses,” I said, “I must tell you that +I believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife instead of a +strange woman to nurse him when he is sick.” + +“But,” said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being +knocked about, “the sick-room is surely the very place of all others in +which a woman’s gentleness and tact are most valuable.” + +“Gentleness and tact?” repeated the Man of Wrath. “I have never met +those qualities in the professional nurse. According to my experience, +she is a disagreeable person who finds in private nursing exquisite +opportunities for asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate +mankind. I know of no more humiliating position for a man than to be in +bed having his feverish brow soothed by a sprucely-dressed strange +woman, bristling with starch and spotlessness. He would give half his +income for his clothes, and probably the other half if she would leave +him alone, and go away altogether. He feels her superiority through +every pore; he never before realised how absolutely inferior he is; he +is abjectly polite, and contemptibly conciliatory; if a friend comes to +see him, he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening behind +the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far more +intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really belongs to him; he +has read of ministering angels and the light touch of a woman’s hand, +but the day on which he can ring for his servant and put on his socks +in private fills him with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt +as a homesick schoolboy at the end of his first term.” + +Minora was silent. Irais’s foot was livelier than ever. The Man of +Wrath stood smiling blandly down upon us. You can’t argue with a person +so utterly convinced of his infallibility that he won’t even get angry +with you; so we sat round and said nothing. + +“If,” he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, “you doubt +the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of +noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the +rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try +for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, whether the +actual fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief. The angel +who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in such a questionable shape, +that to the unimaginative she appears merely as an extremely +self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first of all in securing +her personal comfort, much given to complaints about her food and to +helplessness where she should be helpful, possessing an extraordinary +capacity for fancying herself slighted, or not regarded as the superior +being she knows herself to be, morbidly anxious lest the servants +should, by some mistake, treat her with offensive cordiality, pettish +if the patient gives more trouble than she had expected, intensely +injured and disagreeable if he is made so courageous by his +wretchedness as to wake her during the night—an act of desperation of +which I was guilty once, and once only. Oh, these good women! What sane +man wants to have to do with angels? And especially do we object to +having them about us when we are sick and sorry, when we feel in every +fibre what poor things we are, and when all our fortitude is needed to +enable us to bear our temporary inferiority patiently, without being +forced besides to assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness +towards the angel in the house.” + +There was a pause. + +“I didn’t know you could talk so much, Sage,” said Irais at length. + +“What would you have women do, then?” asked Minora meekly. Irais began +to beat her foot up and down again,—what did it matter what Men of +Wrath would have us do? “There are not,” continued Minora, blushing, +“husbands enough for every one, and the rest must do something.” + +“Certainly,” replied the oracle. “Study the art of pleasing by dress +and manner as long as you are of an age to interest us, and above all, +let all women, pretty and plain, married and single, study the art of +cookery. If you are an artist in the kitchen you will always be +esteemed.” + +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, has +learned to cook; I seem to have been the only one who was naughty and +wouldn’t. + +“Only be careful,” he went on, “in studying both arts, never to forget +the great truth that dinner precedes blandishments and not +blandishments dinner. A man must be made comfortable before he will +make love to you; and though it is true that if you offered him a +choice between _Spickgans_ and kisses, he would say he would take both, +yet he would invariably begin with the _Spickgans_, and allow the +kisses to wait.” + +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. “Your cynicism is +disgusting,” I said icily. + +“You two are always exceptions to anything I may say,” he said, smiling +amiably. + +He stooped and kissed Irais’s hand. She is inordinately vain of her +hands, and says her husband married her for their sake, which I can +quite believe. I am glad they are on her and not on Minora, for if +Minora had had them I should have been annoyed. Minora’s are bony, with +chilly-looking knuckles, ignored nails, and too much wrist. I feel very +well disposed towards her when my eye falls on them. She put one +forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed too. + +“Did you know,” said Irais, seeing the movement, “that it is the custom +here to kiss women’s hands?” + +“But only married women’s,” I added, not desiring her to feel out of +it, “never young girls’.” + +She drew it in again. “It is a pretty custom,” she said with a sigh; +and pensively inscribed it in her book. + + + + +_January_ 15_th_.—The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last +year’s horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down +to breakfast this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is +expensive, I find, when it has to be paid for out of one’s own private +pin-money. The Man of Wrath does not in the least want roses, or +flowering shrubs, or plantations, or new paths, and therefore, he asks, +why should he pay for them? So he does not and I do, and I have to make +up for it by not indulging all too riotously in new clothes, which is +no doubt very chastening. I certainly prefer buying new rose-trees to +new dresses, if I cannot comfortably have both; and I see a time coming +when the passion for my garden will have taken such a hold on me that I +shall not only entirely cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell +those that I already have. The garden is so big that everything has to +be bought wholesale; and I fear I shall not be able to go on much +longer with only one man and a stork, because the more I plant the more +there will be to water in the inevitable drought, and the watering is a +serious consideration when it means going backwards and forwards all +day long to a pump near the house, with a little water-cart. People +living in England, in almost perpetual mildness and moisture, don’t +really know what a drought is. If they have some weeks of cloudless +weather, it is generally preceded and followed by good rains; but we +have perhaps an hour’s shower every week, and then comes a month or six +weeks’ drought. The soil is very light, and dries so quickly that, +after the heaviest thunder-shower, I can walk over any of my paths in +my thin shoes; and to keep the garden even moderately damp it should +pour with rain regularly every day for three hours. My only means of +getting water is to go to the pump near the house, or to the little +stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little stream dries up +too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times difficult +to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. I possess +one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted with silver +birches in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted between +the birches with flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy—the +soil for pines and acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what +love will do—there are more roses in my garden than any other flower! +Next spring the bare places are to be filled with trees that I have +ordered: pines behind the delicate acacias, and startling +mountain-ashes, oaks, copper-beeches, maples, larches, +juniper-trees—was it not Elijah who sat down to rest under a +juniper-tree? I have often wondered how he managed to get under it. It +is a compact little tree, not more than two to three yards high here, +and all closely squeezed up together. Perhaps they grew more +aggressively where he was. By the time the babies have grown old and +disagreeable it will be very pretty here, and then possibly they won’t +like it; and, if they have inherited the Man of Wrath’s indifference to +gardens, they will let it run wild and leave it to return to the state +in which I found it. Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to +live in it, or to come to such a lonely place at all, and then of +course its fate is sealed. My only comfort is that husbands don’t +flourish in the desert, and that the three will have to wait a long +time before enough are found to go round. Mothers tell me that it is a +dreadful business finding one husband; how much more painful then to +have to look for three at once!—the babies are so nearly the same age +that they only just escaped being twins. But I won’t look. I can +imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, I +don’t think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. I +shall do my best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love +the garden, and out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a +spark of their mother in them, they will want and ask for nothing +better. My hope of success is however exceedingly small, and there is +probably a fearful period in store for me when I shall be taken every +day during the winter to the distant towns to balls—a poor old mother +shivering in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made to start +after an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next +morning. Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go +to “partings” as they call them, the April baby announcing her +intention of beginning to do so when she is twelve. “Are _you_ twelve, +Mummy?” she asked. + +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am trying to find +another. It is grievous changing so often—in two years I shall have had +three—because at each change a great part of my plants and plans +necessarily suffers. Seeds get lost, seedlings are not pricked out in +time, places already sown are planted with something else, and there is +confusion out of doors and despair in my heart. But he was to have +married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost and immediately left, and he +is going after her as soon as he can, and meanwhile is wasting visibly +away. What she saw was doors that are locked opening with a great +clatter all by themselves _on the hinge-side_, and then somebody +invisible cursed at her. These phenomena now go by the name of “the +ghost.” She asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had never been +in a place where there was a ghost before. I suggested that she should +try and get used to it; but she thought it would be wasting time, and +she looked so ill that I let her go, and the garden has to suffer. I +don’t know why it should be given to cooks to see such interesting +things and withheld from me, but I have had two others since she left, +and they both have seen the ghost. Minora grows very silent as bed-time +approaches, and relents towards Irais and myself; and, after having +shown us all day how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles +are brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice anxiously +inquired whether Irais is sure she does not object to sleeping alone. + +“If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company,” she +said; “I don’t mind at all, I assure you.” + +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, and has told me +she would rather sleep with fifty ghosts than with one Minora. + +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her parent’s +bedside I have seen a good deal of the babies; and it is so nice +without a governess that I would put off engaging another for a year or +two, if it were not that I should in so doing come within the reach of +the arm of the law, which is what every German spends his life in +trying to avoid. The April baby will be six next month, and, after her +sixth birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to receive a +visit from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the +state of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, +all sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, +probably beginning with fines, and going on _crescendo_ to dungeons if, +owing to gaps between governesses and difficulties in finding the right +one, we persisted in our evil courses. Shades of the prison-house begin +to close here upon the growing boy, and prisons compass the Teuton +about on every side all through life to such an extent that he has to +walk very delicately indeed if he would stay outside them and pay for +their maintenance. Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect to +teach their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, and +are apt to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector into their +homes; but it does not much matter after all, and I daresay it is very +good for us to be worried; indeed, a philosopher of my acquaintance +declares that people who are not regularly and properly worried are +never any good for anything. In the eye of the law we are all sinners, +and every man is held to be guilty until he has proved that he is +innocent. + +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly trying to get +out of their way for several days, she thought it better to resign +herself, and make the best of it by regarding them as copy, and using +them to fill a chapter in her book. So she took to dogging their +footsteps wherever they went, attended their uprisings and their lyings +down, engaged them, if she could, in intelligent conversation, went +with them into the garden to study their ways when they were sleighing, +drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a burden to them. +This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write the +result with the Man of Wrath’s typewriter, borrowed whenever her notes +for any chapter have reached the state of ripeness necessary for the +process she describes as “throwing into form.” She writes everything +with a typewriter, even her private letters. + +“Don’t forget to put in something about a mother’s knee,” said Irais; +“you can’t write effectively about children without that.” + +“Oh, of course I shall mention that,” replied Minora. + +“And pink toes,” I added. “There are always toes, and they are never +anything but pink.” + +“I have that somewhere,” said Minora, turning over her notes. + +“But, after all, babies are not a German speciality,” said Irais, “and +I don’t quite see why you should bring them into a book of German +travels. Elizabeth’s babies have each got the fashionable number of +arms and legs, and are exactly the same as English ones.” + +“Oh, but they can’t be _just_ the same, you know,” said Minora, looking +worried. “It must make a difference living here in this place, and +eating such odd things, and never having a doctor, and never being ill. +Children who have never had measles and those things can’t be quite the +same as other children; it must all be in their systems and can’t get +out for some reason or other. And a child brought up on chicken and +rice-pudding must be different to a child that eats _Spickgans_ and +liver sausages. And they _are_ different; I can’t tell in what way, but +they certainly are; and I think if I steadily describe them from the +materials I have collected the last three days, I may perhaps hit on +the points of difference.” + +“Why bother about points of difference?” asked Irais. “I should write +some little thing, bringing in the usual parts of the picture, such as +knees and toes, and make it mildly pathetic.” + +“But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do,” said Minora +plaintively; “I have so little experience of children.” + +“Then why write it at all?” asked that sensible person Elizabeth. + +“I have as little experience as you,” said Irais, “because I have no +children; but if you don’t yearn after startling originality, nothing +is easier than to write bits about them. I believe I could do a dozen +in an hour.” + +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, and scribbled +for about five minutes. “There,” she said, throwing it to Minora, “you +may have it—pink toes and all complete.” + +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: + +“When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at bed-time my stale +and battered soul is filled with awe. All sorts of vague memories crowd +into my mind—memories of my own mother and myself—how many years +ago!—of the sweet helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in her +arms, and undressed, and put in my cot, without being wakened; of the +angels I believed in; of little children coming straight from heaven, +and still being surrounded, so long as they were good, by the shadow of +white wings,—all the dear poetic nonsense learned, just as my baby is +learning it, at her mother’s knee. She has not an idea of the beauty of +the charming things she is told, and stares wide-eyed, with heavenly +eyes, while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come from, +and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. At +two years old she does not understand angels, and does understand bread +and milk; at five she has vague notions about them, and prefers bread +and milk; at ten both bread and milk and angels have been left behind +in the nursery, and she has already found out that they are luxuries +not necessary to her everyday life. In later years she may be +disinclined to accept truths second-hand, insist on thinking for +herself, be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded traditions, be +untiring in her efforts to live according to a high moral standard and +to be strong, and pure, and good—” + +“Like tea,” explained Irais. + +“—yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth part +of the charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, +her first reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother’s knees. I love to +come in at bed-time and sit in the window in the setting sunshine +watching the mysteries of her going to bed. Her mother tubs her, for +she is far too precious to be touched by any nurse, and then she is +rolled up in a big bath towel, and only her little pink toes peep out; +and when she is powdered, and combed, and tied up in her night-dress, +and all her curls are on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt down +on her mother’s lap, a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face +reflects the quiet of her mother’s face as she goes through her evening +prayer for pity and for peace.” + +“How very curious!” said Minora, when she had finished. “That is +exactly what I was going to say.” + +“Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; you can +copy that if you like.” + +“But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?” I asked. + +“Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch,” she replied; +“it will make people really think a man wrote the book. You know I am +going to take a man’s name.” + +“That is precisely what I imagined,” said Irais. “You will call +yourself John Jones, or George Potts, or some such sternly commonplace +name, to emphasise your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine +weaknesses, and no one will be taken in.” + +“I really think, Elizabeth,” said Irais to me later, when the click of +Minora’s typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room, “that you +and I are writing her book for her. She takes down everything we say. +Why does she copy all that about the baby? I wonder why mothers’ knees +are supposed to be touching? I never learned anything at them, did you? +But then in my case they were only stepmother’s, and nobody ever sings +their praises.” + +“My mother was always at parties,” I said; “and the nurse made me say +my prayers in French.” + +“And as for tubs and powder,” went on Irais, “when I was a baby such +things were not the fashion. There were never any bathrooms, and no +tubs; our faces and hands were washed, and there was a foot-bath in the +room, and in the summer we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards +for fear we might catch cold. My stepmother didn’t worry much; she used +to wear pink dresses all over lace, and the older she got the prettier +the dresses got. When is she going?” + +“Who? Minora? I haven’t asked her that.” + +“Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. +She has been here an unconscionable time,—it must be nearly three +weeks.” + +“Yes, she came the same day you did,” I said pleasantly. + +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to +neglect one’s art than one’s husband, and her husband is lying all this +time stretched on a bed of sickness, while she is spending her days so +agreeably with me. She has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or +any other business in the world than just to stay on chatting with me, +and reading, and singing, and laughing at any one there is to laugh at, +and kissing the babies, and tilting with the Man of Wrath. Naturally I +love her—she is so pretty that anybody with eyes in his head must love +her—but too much of anything is bad, and next month the passages and +offices are to be whitewashed, and people who have ever whitewashed +their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while it +is being done; and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those +succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. I +shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring +every day anxiously after her husband’s health. She is not very fond of +him, because he does not run and hold the door open for her every time +she gets up to leave the room; and though she has asked him to do so, +and told him how much she wishes he would, he still won’t. She stayed +once in a house where there was an Englishman, and his nimbleness in +regard to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has had no +peace since, and each time she has to go out of a room she is reminded +of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut door is to her symbolic of +the failure of her married life, and the very sight of one makes her +wonder why she was born; at least, that is what she told me once, in a +burst of confidence. He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant +to talk to, good-tempered, and full of fun; but he thinks he is too old +to begin to learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has that horror of +being made better by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men, +and is shared by the Man of Wrath, who persists in holding his glass in +his left hand at meals, because if he did not (and I don’t believe he +particularly likes doing it) his relations might say that marriage has +improved him, and thus drive the iron into his soul. This habit +occasions an almost daily argument between one or other of the babies +and myself. + +“April, hold your glass in your right hand.” + +“But papa doesn’t.” + +“When you are as old as papa you can do as you like.” + +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, +“And only think how strange it would look if _everybody_ held their +glasses so.” + +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. + + + + +_January_ 28_th_.—It is very cold,—fifteen degrees of frost _Réaumur_, +but perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels jolly and +energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. The two young ladies +are still here, but the air is so buoyant that even they don’t weigh on +me any longer, and besides, they have both announced their approaching +departure, so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace, +and the house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the +spring. + +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a parting +gift to the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, and sat +meekly times innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, that I am not +vain. When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried, and at once +commissioned her to paint hers, so that she may take it away with her +and give it to her husband on his birthday, which happens to be early +in February. Indeed, if it were not for this birthday, I really think +she would have forgotten to go at all; but birthdays are great and +solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by unnoticed, and +always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations +(gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, and +that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), who +stand round a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years are +offered up as a burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink +and white candles, stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. The cake +with its candles is the chief feature, and on the table round it lie +the gifts each person present is more or less bound to give. As my +birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as blotting-books +and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer I should get +photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; but whatever the +present may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be welcomed with the +noisiest gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, and such words as +_entzückend, reizend, herrlich, wundervoll_, and _süss_ repeated over +and over again, until the unfortunate _Geburtstagskind_ feels indeed +that another year has gone, and that she has grown older, and wiser, +and more tired of folly and of vain repetitions. A flag is hoisted, and +all the morning the rites are celebrated, the cake eaten, healths +drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly shaken off. The neighbouring +parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their wives count the +candles in the cake; the active lady in the next _Schloss_ spares time +to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the _Gotha +Almanach;_ a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief +inspector in white kid gloves who invokes Heaven’s blessings on the +gracious lady’s head; and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner +trying on all the mittens. In the evening there is a dinner for the +relations and the chief local authorities, with more health-drinking +and speechifying, and the next morning, when I come downstairs thankful +to have done with it, I am confronted by the altar still in its place, +cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, because any hasty removal of it +would imply a most lamentable want of sentiment, deplorable in anybody, +but scandalous and disgusting in a tender female. All birthdays are +observed in this fashion, and not a few wise persons go for a short +trip just about the time theirs is due, and I think I shall imitate +them next year; only trips to the country or seaside in December are +not usually pleasant, and if I go to a town there are sure to be +relations in it, and then the cake will spring up mushroom-like from +the teeming soil of their affection. + +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais and +myself are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further proof +were needed, it is furnished by the fact that we both, in defiance of +tradition, scorn this celebration of birthday rites. Years ago, when +first I knew her, and long before we were either of us married, I sent +her a little brass candlestick on her birthday; and when mine followed +a few months later, she sent me a note-book. No notes were written in +it, and on her next birthday I presented it to her; she thanked me +profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came I received the +brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy the possession of +each of these articles, and the present question is comfortably settled +once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. We never mention +this little arrangement except at the proper time, when we send a +letter of fervid thanks. + +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, and sitting still over +the fire out of the question, has been going on for more than a week. +Sleighing and skating have been our chief occupation, especially +skating, which is more than usually fascinating here, because the place +is intersected by small canals communicating with a lake and the river +belonging to the lake, and as everything is frozen black and hard, we +can skate for miles straight ahead without being obliged to turn round +and come back again,—at all times an annoying, and even mortifying, +proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: modesty is the only obstacle to +my saying the same of myself; but I may remark that all Germans skate +well, for the simple reason that every year of their lives, for three +or four months, they may do it as much as they like. Minora was +astonished and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and +arriving at the place where tea meets us half an hour after we had +finished. In some places the banks of the canals are so high that only +our heads appear level with the fields, and it is, as Minora noted in +her book, a curious sight to see three female heads skimming along +apparently by themselves, and enjoying it tremendously. When the banks +are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously over the roughest ploughed +fields, with or without legs according to circumstances. Before we +start, I fix on the place where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and we +drive home again; because skating against the wind is as detestable as +skating with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its +blowing without the smallest regard for our convenience. Yesterday, by +way of a change, we went for a picnic to the shores of the Baltic, +ice-bound at this season, and utterly desolate at our nearest point. I +have a weakness for picnics, especially in winter, when the mosquitoes +cease from troubling and the ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many +favourite picnic spots this one on the Baltic is the loveliest and +best. As it is a three-hours’ drive, the Man of Wrath is loud in his +lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which means, as +experience has taught him, this particular excursion. There must be +deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; and when, on +waking up, I see these conditions fulfilled, then it would need some +very potent reason to keep me from having out a sleigh and going off. +It is, I admit, a hard day for the horses; but why have horses if they +are not to take you where you want to go to, and at the time you want +to go? And why should not horses have hard days as well as everybody +else? The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for nature and +frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive through a forest that +does not belong to him; a single turnip on his own place is more +admirable in his eyes than the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that +ever reared its snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. Now +observe the superiority of woman, who sees that both are good, and +after having gazed at the pine and been made happy by its beauty, goes +home and placidly eats the turnip. He went once and only once to this +particular place, and made us feel so small by his _blasé_ behaviour +that I never invite him now. It is a beautiful spot, endless forest +stretching along the shore as far as the eye can reach; and after +driving through it for miles you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue +of arching trees, upon the glistening, oily sea, with the +orange-coloured sails of distant fishing-smacks shining in the +sunlight. Whenever I have been there it has been windless weather, and +the silence so profound that I could hear my pulses beating. The +humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are the only sounds +in summer, and in winter the stillness is the stillness of death. + +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is so infested by +mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem most natural, that those +of my visitors who have been taken there for a treat have invariably +lost their tempers, and made the quiet shores ring with their wailing +and lamentations. These despicable but irritating insects don’t seem to +have anything to do but to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for +any prey Providence may send them; and as soon as the carriage appears +they rise up in a cloud, and rush to meet us, almost dragging us out +bodily, and never leave us until we drive away again. The sudden view +of the sea from the mossy, pine-covered height directly above it where +we picnic; the wonderful stretch of lonely shore with the forest to the +water’s edge; the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness—all is lost upon the picnickers, and made +worse than indifferent to them, by the perpetual necessity they are +under of fighting these horrid creatures. It is nice being the only +person who ever goes there or shows it to anybody, but if more people +went, perhaps the mosquitoes would be less lean, and hungry, and +pleased to see us. It has, however, the advantage of being a suitable +place to which to take refractory visitors when they have stayed too +long, or left my books out in the garden all night, or otherwise made +their presence a burden too grievous to be borne; then one fine hot +morning when they are all looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on +the Baltic. I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted with +exclamations of surprise and delight. + +“The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? How +_heavenly_ to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! The very +_thought_ puts new life into one! And how _delightful_ to see the +Baltic! Oh, _please_ take us!” And then I take them. + +But on a brilliant winter’s day my conscience is as clear as the frosty +air itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of +spirits, even Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least +provocation. Only our eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and +woollen wrappings necessary to our heads if we would come back with our +ears and noses in the same places they were in when we started, and for +the first two miles the mirth created by each other’s strange +appearance was uproarious,—a fact I mention merely to show what an +effect dry, bright, intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how +much better it is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and +sulk. As we passed through the neighbouring village with cracking of +whip and jingling of bells, heads popped up at the windows to stare, +and the only living thing in the silent, sunny street was a melancholy +fowl with ruffled feathers, which looked at us reproachfully, as we +dashed with so much energy over the crackling snow. + +“Oh, foolish bird!” Irais called out as we passed; “you’ll be indeed a +cold fowl if you stand there motionless, and every one prefers them hot +in weather like this!” + +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid joke +had been made, and before we had done we were out of the village and in +the open country beyond, and could see my house and garden far away +behind, glittering in the sunshine; and in front of us lay the forest, +with its vistas of pines stretching away into infinity, and a drive +through it of fourteen miles before we reached the sea. It was a +hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted forest leading into +fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often before, and +always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the +place. For a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep +blue line, and a cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a +narrow strip of pale yellow sand; right and left the line of sparkling +forest; and we ourselves standing in a world of white and diamond +traceries. The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay on the place like a +benediction. + +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, but she +thought this beat it almost. + +“I don’t quite see,” said Irais in a hushed voice, as though she were +in a holy place, “how the two can be compared.” + +“Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course,” replied Minora; after +which we turned away and thought we would keep her quiet by feeding +her, so we went back to the sleigh and had the horses taken out and +their cloths put on, and they were walked up and down a distant glade +while we sat in the sleigh and picnicked. It _is_ a hard day for the +horses,—nearly thirty miles there and back and no stable in the middle; +but they are so fat and spoiled that it cannot do them much harm +sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. I warmed soup in a little +apparatus I have for such occasions, which helped to take the +chilliness off the sandwiches,—this is the only unpleasant part of a +winter picnic, the clammy quality of the provisions just when you most +long for something very hot. Minora let her nose very carefully out of +its wrappings, took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She +was nervous lest it should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add +that her nose is not a bad nose, and might even be pretty on anybody +else; but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in the +angle at which one’s nose is held just as in everything else, and +really noses were intended for something besides mere blowing. + +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches with +immense fur and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost as much +fur as anything, and choked exceedingly during the process. Minora was +angry at this, and at last pulled off her glove, but quickly put it on +again. + +“How very unpleasant,” she remarked after swallowing a large piece of +fur. + +“It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm,” said Irais. + +“Pipes!” echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. + +“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” I said, as she continued to choke and +splutter; “we are all in the same case, and I don’t know how to alter +it.” + +“There are such things as forks, I suppose,” snapped Minora. + +“That’s true,” said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; but of +what use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? So Minora had to +continue to eat her gloves. + +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind the trees +and the clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. The old coachman was +given sandwiches and soup, and while he led the horses up and down with +one hand and held his lunch in the other, we packed up—or, to be +correct, I packed, and the others looked on and gave me valuable +advice. + +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was born on the +place, and has driven its occupants for fifty years, and I am nearly as +fond of him as I am of the sun-dial; indeed, I don’t know what I should +do without him, so entirely does he appear to understand and approve of +my tastes and wishes. No drive is too long or difficult for the horses +if I want to take it, no place impossible to reach if I want to go to +it, no weather or roads too bad to prevent my going out if I wish to: +to all my suggestions he responds with the readiest cheerfulness, and +smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of Wrath, who rewards +his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking of him as an _alter +Esel_. In the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and alone +in the scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and +sit quite still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little +tune over and over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there are +no nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its +blessedness descend into my very soul. The nightingales in the forests +about here all sing the same tune, and in the same key of (E flat). + + +I don’t know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar to +this particular spot. When they have sung it once, they clear their +throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the +prettiest little song in the world. How could I indulge my passion for +these drives with their pauses without Peter? He is so used to them +that he stops now at the right moment without having to be told, and he +is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, with no sign of anything +but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. The Man of Wrath +deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, of mine; but has +given up trying to prevent my indulging them because, while he is +deploring in one part of the house, I have slipped out at a door in the +other, and am gone before he can catch me, and have reached and am lost +in the shadows of the forest by the time he has discovered that I am +nowhere to be found. + +The brightness of Peter’s perfections are sullied however by one spot, +and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold the +horses in if they don’t want to be held in, but he goes to sleep +sometimes on his box if I have him out too soon after lunch, and has +upset me twice within the last year—once last winter out of a sleigh, +and once this summer, when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted +into the ditch on one side of the _chaussée_ (German for high road), +and the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too +into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and the +bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who +never lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue +clave to the roof of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him. + +“But I should think he ought to have been _thoroughly_ scolded on an +occasion like that,” said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story +as we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in +the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was +visible between the bushes above us. “Shall we get home before dark?” +she asked. + +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very +highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were +creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull +brown; a flight of wild geese passed across the disc of the moon with +loud cacklings. + +“Before dark?” echoed Irais, “I should think not. It is dark now nearly +in the forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back.” + +“But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive +you,” said Minora apprehensively. + +“But he’s such an old dear,” I said. + +“Yes, yes, no doubt,” she replied testily; “but there are wakeful old +dears to be had, and on a box they are preferable.” + +Irais laughed. “You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora,” she said. + +“He isn’t on a box to-day,” said I; “and I never knew him to go to +sleep standing up behind us on a sleigh.” But Minora was not to be +appeased, and muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, +which shows how alarmed she was, for it was rude. + +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, and Irais and I at +least were as happy as possible driving back, with all the glories of +the western sky flashing at us every now and then at the end of a long +avenue as we swiftly passed, and later on, when they had faded, myriads +of stars in the narrow black strip of sky over our heads. It was +bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to +laugh with us as she had been six hours before. + +“Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?’ inquired Irais, as we got out +of the forest on to the _chaussée_, and the lights of the village +before ours twinkled in the distance. + +“How many degrees do you suppose there are now?” was Minora’s reply to +this question. + +“Degrees?—Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold,” cried Irais +solicitously. + +“Well, it isn’t exactly warm, is it?” said Minora sulkily; and Irais +pinched me. “Well, but think how much colder you would have been +without all that fur you ate for lunch inside you,” she said. + +“And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic,” +said I. “Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English +person who has ever been to just this part of it.” + +“Isn’t there some English poem,” said Irais, “about being the first who +ever burst—” + +“‘Into that silent sea,’” finished Minora hastily. “You can’t quote +that without its context, you know.” + +“But I wasn’t going to,” said Irais meekly; “I only paused to breathe. +I must breathe, or perhaps I might die.” + +The lights from my energetic friend’s _Schloss_ shone brightly down +upon us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; she +is very proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it is the +only one in the whole district. + +“Do you never go there?” asked Minora, jerking her head in the +direction of the house. + +“Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel I was in the +way if I went often.” + +“It would be interesting to see another North German interior,” said +Minora; “and I should be obliged if you would take me.” + +“But I can’t fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl,” I protested; +“and we are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking +all my visitors to see her.” + +“What do you want to see another interior for?” asked Irais. “I can +tell you what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak to you, +and if you were to ask questions, and began to take notes, the good +lady would stare at you in the frankest amazement, and think Elizabeth +had brought a young lunatic out for an airing. _Everybody_ is not as +patient as Elizabeth,” added Irais, anxious to pay off old scores. + +“I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora,” I said, “but I can’t do +that.” + +“If we went,” said Irais, “Elizabeth and I would be placed with great +ceremony on a sofa behind a large, polished oval table with a +crochet-mat in the centre—it _has_ got a crochet-mat in the centre, +hasn’t it?” I nodded. “And you would sit on one of the four little +podgy, buttony, tasselly red chairs that are ranged on the other side +of the table facing the sofa. They _are_ red, Elizabeth?” Again I +nodded. “The floor is painted yellow, and there is no carpet except a +rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark chocolate colour, almost +black; that is in order that after years of use the dirt may not show, +and the room need not be done up. Dirt is like wickedness, you see, +Miss Minora—its being there never matters; it is only when it shows so +much as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. At +intervals round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with lamps on +them, and in one corner is a great white cold stove—or is it majolica?” +she asked, turning to me. + +“No, it is white.” + +“There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let in the air +and the sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown lace curtains +under heavy stuff ones as though a whole row of houses were just +opposite, with peering eyes at every window trying to look in, instead +of there only being fields, and trees, and birds. No fire, no sunlight, +no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage coming up +under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds.” + +“When did you go there?” asked Minora. + +“Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been +calling there all my life.” + +Minora’s eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the +depths of her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark +eyelashes, and far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself +is fine, but they are put in all wrong. + +“The only thing you would learn there,” went on Irais, “would be the +significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went there +together, I should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, +because it is the place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; +Elizabeth would be invited to seat herself in the left-hand corner, as +next in importance; the hostess would sit near us in an arm-chair; and +you, as a person of no importance whatever, would either be left to sit +where you could, or would be put on a chair facing us, and with the +entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense social gulf +that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. These sofa +corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible in a way that +nothing else could. The world might come to an end, and create less +sensation in doing it, than you would, Miss Minora, if by any chance +you got into the right-hand corner of one. That you are put on a chair +on the other side of the table places you at once in the scale of +precedence, and exactly defines your social position, or rather your +complete want of a social position.” And Irais tilted her nose ever so +little heavenwards. + +“Note it,” she added, “as the heading of your next chapter.” + +“Note what?” asked Minora impatiently. + +“Why, ‘The Subtle Significance of Sofas’, of course,” replied Irais. +“If,” she continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this +suggestion, “you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues +the innocent would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the +distracted mistress of the house would keep you waiting in the cold +room so long while she changed her dress, that you would begin to fear +you were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and when she did +appear, would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the rage +that was boiling in her heart.” + +“But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing?” + +“What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent—pardon my +familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs is very +touching in one who is writing a book about them.” + +“Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant,” said Minora loftily. + +“Seasons of washing,” explained Irais, “are seasons set apart by the +_Hausfrau_ to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, +and while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every +other consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into +insignificance, and no one approaching, or interfering with the +mistress of the house during these days of purification, but at their +peril.” + +“You don’t really mean,” said Minora, “that you only wash your clothes +four times a year?” + +“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Irais. + +“Well, I think that is very disgusting,” said Minora emphatically. + +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. “Then you must +take care and not marry a German,” she said. + +“But what is the object of it?” went on Minora. + +“Why, to clean the linen, I suppose.” + +“Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?” + +“It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape of +linen. If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, as +you do in England, you would be put down as a person who only has just +enough to last that length of time, and would be an object of general +contempt.” + +“But I should be a clean object,” cried Minora, “and my house would not +be full of accumulated dirt.” + +We said nothing—there was nothing to be said. + +“It must be a happy land, that England of yours,” Irais remarked after +a while with a sigh—a beatific vision no doubt presenting itself to her +mind of a land full of washerwomen and agile gentlemen darting at +door-handles. + +“It is a _clean_ land, at any rate,” replied Minora. + +“_I_ don’t want to go and live in it,” I said—for we were driving up to +the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came into my mind as I +looked up fondly at its dear old west front, and I felt that what I +want is to live and die just here, and that there never was such a +happy woman as Elizabeth. + + + + +_April_ 18_th_.—I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying +on its green and flowered petticoat—only its petticoat as yet, for +though the underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, the trees +above are still quite bare. + +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, so deeply was I +engaged in making hot-beds, and having them sown with petunias, +verbenas, and nicotina affinis; while no less than thirty are dedicated +solely to vegetables, it having been borne in upon me lately that +vegetables must be interesting things to grow, besides possessing solid +virtues not given to flowers, and that I might as well take the orchard +and kitchen garden under my wing. So I have rushed in with all the zeal +of utter inexperience, and my February evenings were spent poring over +gardening books, and my days in applying the freshly absorbed wisdom. +Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the country? It +was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, and its mild days +enabled me to get on beautifully with the digging and manuring, and +filled my rooms with snowdrops. The longer I live the greater is my +respect and affection for manure in all its forms, and already, though +the year is so young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been +spent on artificial manure. The Man of Wrath says he never met a young +woman who spent her money that way before; I remarked that it must be +nice to have an original wife; and he retorted that the word original +hardly described me, and that the word eccentric was the one required. +Very well, I suppose I am eccentric, since even my husband says so; but +if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature as to result later +in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest lettuce in Prussia, why then +he ought to be the first to rise up and call me blessed. + +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they are not grown +here, and people try and make boiled cucumbers take their place; but +boiled cucumbers are nasty things, and I don’t see why marrows should +not do here perfectly well. These, and primrose-roots, are the English +contributions to my garden. I brought over the roots in a tin box last +time I came from England, and am anxious to see whether they will +consent to live here. Certain it is that they don’t exist in the +Fatherland, so I can only conclude the winter kills them, for surely, +if such lovely things would grow, they never would have been +overlooked. Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so +many English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they +have got so mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and +Disraelis, that she longs to see this mysterious political flower, and +has made me promise to telegraph when it appears, and she will come +over. But they are not going to do anything this year, and I only hope +those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of flowers. I am +afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. + +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and the +babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the +numerous relations staying with her have left,—“which they won’t do,” +she wrote the other day, “until the first frosts nip them off, when +they will disappear like belated dahlias—double ones of course, for +single dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations. I have +every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and here they have been +ever since my husband’s birthday—not the same ones exactly, but I get +so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. My +husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I +am left at their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at—I should +be grateful even for one, and would look at it from morning till night, +and quite stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay at home and +have the truth told me by enigmatic aunts. Do you know my Aunt Bertha? +she, in particular, spends her time propounding obscure questions for +my solution. I get so tired and worried trying to guess the answers, +which are always truths supposed to be good for me to hear. ‘Why do you +wear your hair on your forehead?’ she asks,—and that sets me off +wondering why I _do_ wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to know +for, or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer +truthfully. ‘I am sure I don’t know, aunt,’ I say meekly, after +puzzling over it for ever so long; ‘perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring +and ask her?’ And then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly +line she says I have down the middle of my forehead, and that betokens +a listless and discontented disposition. Well, if she knew, what did +she ask me for? Whenever I am with them they ask me riddles like that, +and I simply lead a _dog’s_ life. Oh, my dear, relations are like +drugs,—useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if taken in small +quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, and the +truly wise avoid them.” + +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, in +which she thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending +me a bottle of English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; +that it was wonderful stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that +it cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. +Was it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at +her? Was she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was +it merely Minora’s idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for +bruises, nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing +exercise, and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she +did happen to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of +tumbling down for the first and only time, and her delight was but +thinly veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the +stamps, received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my +life; I had been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, +but the best of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his own +use. But why waste a thought on Minora at Easter, the real beginning of +the year in defiance of calendars. She belongs to the winter that is +past, to the darkness that is over, and has no part or lot in the life +I shall lead for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for +joy that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there is in +my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant +Easter day I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the +windflowers and celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to +the Hirschwald, to see what the spring had been doing there; and the +afternoon was so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up +through the leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, fat +little white clouds floating motionless in the blue. We had tea on the +grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, and the babies were +in bed, and all the little wind-flowers folded up for the night, I +still wandered in the green paths, my heart full of happiest gratitude. +It makes one very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of +beauty and perfection _anonymously_ lavished, and to think of the +infinite meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we +are if they are not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely +trust that the benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may +by degrees be more deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and +patience, and cheerfulness, just like the happy flowers I so much love. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1327 *** diff --git a/old/1327-h/1327-h.htm b/old/1327-h/1327-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68cbd31 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-h/1327-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5641 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Elizabeth and Her German Garden | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +span.figfloat { float: none; margin: 0 0.4em 0 0; line-height: .8 } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1327 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]"> +</div> + +<h1>ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Elizabeth Von Arnim</h2> + +<hr> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION</h2> + +<p> +Originally published in 1898, “Elizabeth and her German Garden” is the first +book by Marie Annette Beauchamp—known all her life as “Elizabeth”. The book, +anonymously published, was an incredible success, going through printing after +printing by several publishers over the next few years. (I myself own three +separate early editions of this book by different publishers on both sides of +the Atlantic.) The present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated +deluxe MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer Katherine Mansfield (whose +real name was Kathleen Mansfield Beauchamp). Born in Australia, Elizabeth was +educated in England. She was reputed to be a fine organist and musician. At a +young age, she captured the heart of a German Count, was persuaded to marry +him, and went to live in Germany. Over the next years she bore five daughters. +After her husband’s death and the decline of the estate, she returned to +England. She was a friend to many of high social standing, including people +such as H. G. Wells (who considered her one of the finest wits of the day). +Some time later she married the brother of Bertrand Russell; which marriage was +a failure and ended in divorce. Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at the +outbreak of the Second World War, and there died in 1941. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name “Elizabeth von Arnim”, +author of “The Enchanted April” which was recently made into a successful film +by the same title. Another of her books, “Mr. Skeffington” was also once made +into a film starring Bette Davis, circa 1940. +</p> + +<p> +Some of Elizabeth’s work is published in modern editions by Virago and other +publishers. Among these are: “Love”, “The Enchanted April”, “Caravaners”, +“Christopher and Columbus”, “The Pastor’s Wife”, “Mr. Skeffington”, “The +Solitary Summer”, and “Elizabeth’s Adventures in Rugen”. Also published by +Virago is her non-autobiography “All the Dogs of My Life”—as the title +suggests, it is the story not of her life, but of the lives of the many dogs +she owned; though of course it does touch upon her own experiences. +</p> + +<p> +In the centennial year of this book’s first publication, I hope that its +availability through Project Gutenberg will stir some renewed interest in +Elizabeth and her delightful work. She is, I would venture, my favorite author; +and I hope that soon she will be one of your favorites. +</p> + +<p> +R. McGowan San Jose, April 11 1998. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 7<i>th</i>.—I love my garden. I am writing in it now in the late +afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes and the temptation to +look at all the glories of the new green leaves washed half an hour ago in a +cold shower. Two owls are perched near me, and are carrying on a long +conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of nightingales. The +gentleman owl says <span class="figfloat"><img src="images/img01.jpg" +width="100" height="43" alt=""></span>, and she answers from her tree a +little way off, <span class="figfloat"><img src="images/img02.jpg" width="100" +height="48" alt=""></span>, beautifully assenting to and completing her +lord’s remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. They say the +same thing over and over again so emphatically that I think it must be +something nasty about me; but I shall not let myself be frightened away by the +sarcasm of owls. +</p> + +<p> +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived in the house, much +less in the garden, for twenty-five years, and it is such a pretty old place +that the people who might have lived here and did not, deliberately preferring +the horrors of a flat in a town, must have belonged to that vast number of +eyeless and earless persons of whom the world seems chiefly composed. Noseless +too, though it does not sound pretty; but the greater part of my spring +happiness is due to the scent of the wet earth and young leaves. +</p> + +<p> +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are +servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring happiness +bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more +intense, and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out in my +frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. But I did it behind a +bush, having a due regard for the decencies. +</p> + +<p> +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches sweeping +the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white blossoms and tenderest +green that the garden looks like a wedding. I never saw such masses of them; +they seemed to fill the place. Even across a little stream that bounds the +garden on the east, and right in the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is +an immense one, a picture of grace and glory against the cold blue of the +spring sky. +</p> + +<p> +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, and beyond are great +stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, and where the forests leave off the +bare heath begins again; but the forests are beautiful in their lofty, +pink-stemmed vastness, far overhead the crowns of softest gray-green, and +underfoot a bright green wortleberry carpet, and everywhere the breathless +silence; and the bare heaths are beautiful too, for one can see across them +into eternity almost, and to go out on to them with one’s face towards the +setting sun is like going into the very presence of God. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of bird-cherries and greenery where I +spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray stone house +with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. The house is very old, and +has been added to at various times. It was a convent before the Thirty Years’ +War, and the vaulted chapel, with its brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, +is now used as a hall. Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more +than once, as is duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what +was then the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. The Lion +of the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly up to his +convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, who were not +without convictions of their own, sending them out on to the wide, empty plain +to piteously seek some life to replace the life of silence here. +</p> + +<p> +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out across the plain, with +no obstacle in the shape of a hill, right away to a blue line of distant +forest, and on the west side uninterruptedly to the setting sun—nothing but a +green, rolling plain, with a sharp edge against the sunset. I love those west +windows better than any others, and have chosen my bedroom on that side of the +house so that even times of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the +young woman who attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties +about a mistress recumbent in an easy-chair before an open window, and not to +profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. This girl is grieved at my +habit of living almost in the garden, and all her ideas as to the sort of life +a respectable German lady should lead have got into a sad muddle since she came +to me. The people round about are persuaded that I am, to put it as kindly as +possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the news has travelled that I spend the +day out of doors with a book, and that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew +or cook. But why cook when you can get some one to cook for you? And as for +sewing, the maids will hem the sheets better and quicker than I could, and all +forms of needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for +keeping the foolish from applying their heart to wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +We had been married five years before it struck us that we might as well make +use of this place by coming down and living in it. Those five years were spent +in a flat in a town, and during their whole interminable length I was perfectly +miserable and perfectly healthy, which disposes of the ugly notion that has at +times disturbed me that my happiness here is less due to the garden than to a +good digestion. And while we were wasting our lives there, here was this dear +place with dandelions up to the very door, all the paths grass-grown and +completely effaced, in winter so lonely, with nobody but the north wind taking +the least notice of it, and in May—in all those five lovely Mays—no one to look +at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more wonderful masses of lilacs, +everything glowing and blowing, the virginia creeper madder every year, until +at last, in October, the very roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, the +owls and the squirrels and all the blessed little birds reigning supreme, and +not a living creature ever entering the empty house except the snakes, which +got into the habit during those silent years of wriggling up the south wall +into the rooms on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the windows. +All that was here,—peace, and happiness, and a reasonable life,—and yet it +never struck me to come and live in it. Looking back I am astonished, and can +in no way account for the tardiness of my discovery that here, in this far-away +corner, was my kingdom of heaven. Indeed, so little did it enter my head to +even use the place in summer, that I submitted to weeks of seaside life with +all its horrors every year; until at last, in the early spring of last year, +having come down for the opening of the village school, and wandering out +afterwards into the bare and desolate garden, I don’t know what smell of wet +earth or rotting leaves brought back my childhood with a rush and all the happy +days I had spent in a garden. Shall I ever forget that day? It was the +beginning of my real life, my coming of age as it were, and entering into my +kingdom. Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, quiet earth; leafless and +sad and lonely enough out there in the damp and silence, yet there I stood +feeling the same rapture of pure delight in the first breath of spring that I +used to as a child, and the five wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and +the world was full of hope, and I vowed myself then and there to nature, and +have been happy ever since. +</p> + +<p> +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought perhaps that it +might be as well to look after the place, consented to live in it at any rate +for a time; whereupon followed six specially blissful weeks from the end of +April into June, during which I was here alone, supposed to be superintending +the painting and papering, but as a matter of fact only going into the house +when the workmen had gone out of it. +</p> + +<p> +How happy I was! I don’t remember any time quite so perfect since the days when +I was too little to do lessons and was turned out with sugar on my eleven +o’clock bread and butter on to a lawn closely strewn with dandelions and +daisies. The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its charm, but I love the +dandelions and daisies even more passionately now than then, and never would +endure to see them all mown away if I were not certain that in a day or two +they would be pushing up their little faces again as jauntily as ever. During +those six weeks I lived in a world of dandelions and delights. The dandelions +carpeted the three lawns,—they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed +out into meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,—and under and among the +groups of leafless oaks and beeches were blue hepaticas, white anemones, +violets, and celandines in sheets. The celandines in particular delighted me +with their clean, happy brightness, so beautifully trim and newly varnished, as +though they too had had the painters at work on them. Then, when the anemones +went, came a few stray periwinkles and Solomon’s Seal, and all the +bird-cherries blossomed in a burst. And then, before I had a little got used to +the joy of their flowers against the sky, came the lilacs—masses and masses of +them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees by the side of walks, +and one great continuous bank of them half a mile long right past the west +front of the house, away down as far as one could see, shining glorious against +a background of firs. When that time came, and when, before it was over, the +acacias all blossomed too, and four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies +flowered under the south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, and +thankful, and grateful, that I really cannot describe it. My days seemed to +melt away in a dream of pink and purple peace. +</p> + +<p> +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, so that on +the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge what my other half +calls my <i>fantaisie déréglée</i> as regards meals—that is to say, meals so +simple that they could be brought out to the lilacs on a tray; and I lived, I +remember, on salad and bread and tea the whole time, sometimes a very tiny +pigeon appearing at lunch to save me, as the old lady thought, from starvation. +Who but a woman could have stood salad for six weeks, even salad sanctified by +the presence and scent of the most gorgeous lilac masses? I did, and grew in +grace every day, though I have never liked it since. How often now, oppressed +by the necessity of assisting at three dining-room meals daily, two of which +are conducted by the functionaries held indispensable to a proper maintenance +of the family dignity, and all of which are pervaded by joints of meat, how +often do I think of my salad days, forty in number, and of the blessedness of +being alone as I was then alone! +</p> + +<p> +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house was left to +emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered up her rheumatic +limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another part of the house had +been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave the friendly frogs and owls, +and with my heart somewhere down in my shoes lock the door to the garden behind +me, and pass through the long series of echoing south rooms full of shadows and +ladders and ghostly pails of painters’ mess, and humming a tune to make myself +believe I liked it, go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the +creaking stairs, down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final rush of +panic whisk into my room and double lock and bolt the door! +</p> + +<p> +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great dinner-bell to bed +with me so that at least I might be able to make a noise if frightened in the +night, though what good it would have been I don’t know, as there was no one to +hear. The housemaid slept in another little cell opening out of mine, and we +two were the only living creatures in the great empty west wing. She evidently +did not believe in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell asleep immediately +after getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, “<i>mais je les redoute</i>,” +as a French lady said, who from her books appears to have been strongminded. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it comforted me to +see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights were anything but placid, it +was all so strange, and there were such queer creakings and other noises. I +used to lie awake for hours, startled out of a light sleep by the cracking of +some board, and listen to the indifferent snores of the girl in the next room. +In the morning, of course, I was as brave as a lion and much amused at the cold +perspirations of the night before; but even the nights seem to me now to have +been delightful, and myself like those historic boys who heard a voice in every +wind and snatched a fearful joy. I would gladly shiver through them all over +again for the sake of the beautiful purity of the house, empty of servants and +upholstery. +</p> + +<p> +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful new +papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and build all sorts +of castles in the air about their future and their past. Would the nuns who had +lived in them know their little white-washed cells again, all gay with delicate +flower papers and clean white paint? And how astonished they would be to see +cell No. 14 turned into a bathroom, with a bath big enough to insure a +cleanliness of body equal to their purity of soul! They would look upon it as a +snare of the tempter; and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked +at the blackness of my nails the day that I began to lose the first whiteness +of my soul by falling in love at fifteen with the parish organist, or rather +with the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and fiery moustache which was all I +ever saw of him, and which I loved to distraction for at least six months; at +the end of which time, going out with my governess one day, I passed him in the +street, and discovered that his unofficial garb was a frock-coat combined with +a turn-down collar and a “bowler” hat, and never loved him any more. +</p> + +<p> +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I had not +a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. Then he appeared +suddenly who has a right to appear when and how he will and rebuked me for +never having written, and when I told him that I had been literally too happy +to think of writing, he seemed to take it as a reflection on himself that I +could be happy alone. I took him round the garden along the new paths I had had +made, and showed him the acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was the +purest selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring were with +me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. I tried to appease him by +offering him the whole of my salad and toast supper which stood ready at the +foot of the little verandah steps when we came back, but nothing appeased that +Man of Wrath, and he said he would go straight back to the neglected family. So +he went; and the remainder of the precious time was disturbed by twinges of +conscience (to which I am much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump +for joy. I went to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me +to look at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; I +criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day than I had done in all +the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; but I could not +manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your conscience is clear and +your liver in order and the sun is shining? +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 10<i>th</i>.—I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening and +this year know very little more, but I have dawnings of what may be done, and +have at least made one great stride—from ipomæa to tea-roses. +</p> + +<p> +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all round the house, but the +principal part is on the south side and has evidently always been so. The south +front is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one into the other, and +the walls are covered with virginia creeper. There is a little verandah in the +middle, leading by a flight of rickety wooden steps down into what seems to +have been the only spot in the whole place that was ever cared for. This is a +semicircle cut into the lawn and edged with privet, and in this semicircle are +eleven beds of different sizes bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, +and the sun-dial is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by me. +These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening to be seen (except a +solitary crocus that came up all by itself each spring in the grass, not +because it wanted to, but because it could not help it), and these I had sown +with ipomæa, the whole eleven, having found a German gardening book, according +to which ipomæa in vast quantities was the one thing needful to turn the most +hideous desert into a paradise. Nothing else in that book was recommended with +anything like the same warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity of +seed necessary, I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown not only in the +eleven beds but round nearly every tree, and then waited in great agitation for +the promised paradise to appear. It did not, and I learned my first lesson. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweet-peas which made me very happy all +the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few hollyhocks under the +south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. But the lilies, after being +transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, for how was I to know it was the +way of lilies? And the hollyhocks turned out to be rather ugly colours, so that +my first summer was decorated and beautified solely by sweet-peas. At present +we are only just beginning to breathe after the bustle of getting new beds and +borders and paths made in time for this summer. The eleven beds round the +sun-dial are filled with roses, but I see already that I have made mistakes +with some. As I have not a living soul with whom to hold communion on this or +indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is by making mistakes. All eleven +were to have been carpeted with purple pansies, but finding that I had not +enough and that nobody had any to sell me, only six have got their pansies, the +others being sown with dwarf mignonette. Two of the eleven are filled with +Marie van Houtte roses, two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette +Messimy, one with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, two +with Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind the sun-dial with three +sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), Duke of Teck, Cheshunt Scarlet, and +Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, I am sure, a mistake, and several of the others +are, I think, but of course I must wait and see, being such an ignorant person. +Then I have had two long beds made in the grass on either side of the +semicircle, each sown with mignonette, and one filled with Marie van Houtte, +and the other with Jules Finger and the Bride; and in a warm corner under the +drawing-room windows is a bed of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and +Comtesse Riza du Parc; while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north +and west by a group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, containing +Rubens, Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hon. Edith Gifford. All these roses are +dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, two Madame George +Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. How I long for the day when the +tea-roses open their buds! Never did I look forward so intensely to anything; +and every day I go the rounds, admiring what the dear little things have +achieved in the twenty-four hours in the way of new leaf or increase of lovely +red shoot. +</p> + +<p> +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south windows +in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot of which I have +sown two long borders of sweet-peas facing the rose beds, so that my roses may +have something almost as sweet as themselves to look at until the autumn, when +everything is to make place for more tea-roses. The path leading away from this +semicircle down the garden is bordered with China roses, white and pink, with +here and there a Persian Yellow. I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I +have misgivings as to the effect of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, for +the Chinas are such wee little baby things, and the Persian Yellows look as +though they intended to be big bushes. +</p> + +<p> +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the least +understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward to the flowering of +these roses, and not a German gardening book that does not relegate all +tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning them for life, and depriving them for ever +of the breath of God. It was no doubt because I was so ignorant that I rushed +in where Teutonic angels fear to tread and made my tea-roses face a northern +winter; but they did face it under fir branches and leaves, and not one has +suffered, and they are looking to-day as happy and as determined to enjoy +themselves as any roses, I am sure, in Europe. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 14<i>th</i>.—To-day I am writing on the verandah with the three +babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, and already several +of the thirty fingers have been in the ink-pot and the owners consoled when +duty pointed to rebukes. But who can rebuke such penitent and drooping +sunbonnets? I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores and nimble black +legs. +</p> + +<p> +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, and the gardener’s +assistant, are the only people who ever go into my garden, but then neither are +we ever out of it. The gardener has been here a year and has given me notice +regularly on the first of every month, but up to now has been induced to stay +on. On the first of this month he came as usual, and with determination written +on every feature told me he intended to go in June, and that nothing should +alter his decision. I don’t think he knows much about gardening, but he can at +least dig and water, and some of the things he sows come up, and some of the +plants he plants grow, besides which he is the most unflaggingly industrious +person I ever saw, and has the great merit of never appearing to take the +faintest interest in what we do in the garden. So I have tried to keep him on, +not knowing what the next one may be like, and when I asked him what he had to +complain of and he replied “Nothing,” I could only conclude that he has a +personal objection to me because of my eccentric preference for plants in +groups rather than plants in lines. Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts +from gardening books I read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing +something new. Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead of +explaining, to take the book itself out to him and let him have wisdom at its +very source, administering it in doses while he worked. I quite recognise that +this must be annoying, and only my anxiety not to lose a whole year through +some stupid mistake has given me the courage to do it. I laugh sometimes behind +the book at his disgusted face, and wish we could be photographed, so that I +may be reminded in twenty years’ time, when the garden is a bower of loveliness +and I learned in all its ways, of my first happy struggles and failures. +</p> + +<p> +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the autumn into +their permanent places, and all through April he went about with a long piece +of string making parallel lines down the borders of beautiful exactitude and +arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a review. Two long borders were done +during my absence one day, and when I explained that I should like the third to +have plants in groups and not in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural +effect with no bare spaces of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily +hopeless than usual; and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he +had planted two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little +lines of five plants in a row—first five pinks, and next to them five rockets, +and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five rockets, and so on +with different plants of every sort and size down to the end. When I protested, +he said he had only carried out my orders and had known it would not look well; +so I gave in, and the remaining borders were done after the pattern of the +first two, and I will have patience and see how they look this summer, before +digging them up again; for it becomes beginners to be humble. +</p> + +<p> +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, besides being so +fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where you want them and put in your +plants exactly as you choose instead of giving orders that can only be half +understood from the moment you depart from the lines laid down by that long +piece of string! In the first ecstasy of having a garden all my own, and in my +burning impatience to make the waste places blossom like a rose, I did one warm +Sunday in last year’s April during the servants’ dinner hour, doubly secure +from the gardener by the day and the dinner, slink out with a spade and a rake +and feverishly dig a little piece of ground and break it up and sow +surreptitious ipomæa, and run back very hot and guilty into the house, and get +into a chair and behind a book and look languid just in time to save my +reputation. And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one hot; but it is a +blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in Paradise and known what to +do with it, we should not have had all that sad business of the apple. +</p> + +<p> +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, birds, and +flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town acquaintances look +upon it as imprisonment, and burying, and I don’t know what besides, and would +rend the air with their shrieks if condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel +as if I were blest above all my fellows in being able to find my happiness so +easily. I believe I should always be good if the sun always shone, and could +enjoy myself very well in Siberia on a fine day. And what can life in town +offer in the way of pleasure to equal the delight of any one of the calm +evenings I have had this month sitting alone at the foot of the verandah steps, +with the perfume of young larches all about, and the May moon hanging low over +the beeches, and the beautiful silence made only more profound in its peace by +the croaking of distant frogs and hooting of owls? A cockchafer darting by +close to my ear with a loud hum sends a shiver through me, partly of pleasure +at the reminder of past summers, and partly of fear lest he should get caught +in my hair. The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be +killed. I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer and not +crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning of all the fun. +</p> + +<p> +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. My eldest baby, born in April, is +five years old, and the youngest, born in June, is three; so that the +discerning will at once be able to guess the age of the remaining middle or May +baby. While I was stooping over a group of hollyhocks planted on the top of the +only thing in the shape of a hill the garden possesses, the April baby, who had +been sitting pensive on a tree stump close by, got up suddenly and began to run +aimlessly about, shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. +I stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw that a whole army of +young cows, pasturing in a field next to the garden, had got through the hedge +and were grazing perilously near my tea-roses and most precious belongings. The +nurse and I managed to chase them away, but not before they had trampled down a +border of pinks and lilies in the cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed +of China roses, and even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am +trying to persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener happened to be +ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers—as Lutheran Germany calls +afternoon tea or its equivalent—so the nurse filled up the holes as well as she +could with mould, burying the crushed and mangled roses, cheated for ever of +their hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking on dejectedly. The June +baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond her size and years, seized a +stick much bigger than herself and went after the cows, the cowherd being +nowhere to be seen. She planted herself in front of them brandishing her stick, +and they stood in a row and stared at her in great astonishment; and she kept +them off until one of the men from the farm arrived with a whip, and having +found the cowherd sleeping peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. +The cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger than the man who beat +him, but he took his punishment as part of the day’s work and made no remark of +any sort. It could not have hurt him much through his leather breeches, and I +think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work for a strong young man +with no brains looking after cows. Nobody with less imagination than a poet +ought to take it up as a profession. +</p> + +<p> +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two with as many +hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, and while we +were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I happened to look up into its +mazy green, and there, on a branch quite close to my head, sat a little baby +owl. I got on the seat and caught it easily, for it could not fly, and how it +had reached the branch at all is a mystery. It is a little round ball of gray +fluff, with the quaintest, wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let +it go, but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present on a +journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often said how much he +would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. So I put it into a roomy +cage and slung it up on a branch near where it had been sitting, and which +cannot be far from its nest and its mother. We had hardly subsided again to our +tea when I saw two more balls of fluff on the ground in the long grass and +scarcely distinguishable at a little distance from small mole-hills. These were +promptly united to their relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath +comes home, not only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox +smiles, but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take +them from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some +day—perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. I put a +small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have tasted water yet +unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. I suppose they get all +the liquid they need from the bodies of the mice and other dainties provided +for them by their fond parents. But the raindrop idea is prettier. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 15<i>th</i>.—How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls +into a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never pander +to the Man of Wrath’s wishes again. This morning I got up early to see how they +were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide open and no owls to be +seen. I thought of course that somebody had stolen them—some boy from the +village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. But looking about I saw one perched +high up in the branches of the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead +on the ground. The third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its +nest. The parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance they +got the door open, and then dragged the little ones out and up into the tree. +The one that is dead must have been blown off the branch, as it was a windy +night and its neck is broken. There is one happy life less in the garden to-day +through my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm day—just the sort of weather +for young soft things to enjoy and grow in. The babies are greatly distressed, +and are digging a grave, and preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. +</p> + +<p> +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out I +breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give him the +owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry I was they were +gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on after the voluble manner of +women. +</p> + +<p> +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, “I am surprised at such +cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had never done you +any harm.” +</p> + +<p> +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than ever +that he sang true who sang— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Two paradises ’twere in one to live in Paradise alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 16<i>th</i>.—The garden is the place I go to for refuge and shelter, +not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, servants to exhort and +admonish, furniture, and meals; but out there blessings crowd round me at every +step—it is there that I am sorry for the unkindness in me, for those selfish +thoughts that are so much worse than they feel; it is there that all my sins +and silliness are forgiven, there that I feel protected and at home, and every +flower and weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been vexed I +run out to them for comfort, and when I have been angry without just cause, it +is there that I find absolution. Did ever a woman have so many friends? And +always the same, always ready to welcome me and fill me with cheerful thoughts. +Happy children of a common Father, why should I, their own sister, be less +content and joyous than they? Even in a thunder storm, when other people are +running into the house, I run out of it. I do not like thunder storms—they +frighten me for hours before they come, because I always feel them on the way; +but it is odd that I should go for shelter to the garden. I feel better there, +more taken care of, more petted. When it thunders, the April baby says, +“There’s <i>lieber Gott</i> scolding those angels again.” And once, when there +was a storm in the night, she complained loudly, and wanted to know why +<i>lieber Gott</i> didn’t do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so +<i>tight</i> asleep. They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and +English, adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting in English +words in the middle of a German sentence. It always reminds me of Justice +tempered by Mercy. +</p> + +<p> +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by the name of the +Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground of innumerable deer who +fight there in the autumn evenings, calling each other out to combat with +bayings that ring through the silence and send agreeable shivers through the +lonely listener. I often walk there in September, late in the evening, and +sitting on a fallen tree listen fascinated to their angry cries. +</p> + +<p> +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had never seen such +things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. The Hirschwald is a little open +wood of silver birches and springy turf starred with flowers, and there is a +tiny stream meandering amiably about it and decking itself in June with yellow +flags. I have dreams of having a little cottage built there, with the daisies +up to the door, and no path of any sort—just big enough to hold myself and one +baby inside and a purple clematis outside. Two rooms—a bedroom and a kitchen. +How scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! I know the +exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, so that we should get all +the cheerfulness of the morning, and close to the stream, so that we might wash +our plates among the flags. Sometimes, when in the mood for society, we would +invite the remaining babies to tea and entertain them with wild strawberries on +plates of horse-chestnut leaves; but no one less innocent and easily pleased +than a baby would be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny +cottage—indeed, I don’t suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. Wise +people want so many things before they can even begin to enjoy themselves, and +I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, for only being able to offer them +that which I love best myself—apologetic, and ashamed of being so easily +contented. +</p> + +<p> +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town (it took us the whole +afternoon to get there) the women after dinner were curious to know how I had +endured the winter, cut off from everybody and snowed up sometimes for weeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, these husbands!” sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking her head; +“they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don’t care what their +sufferings are.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady was a +great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful husband had +brought his young wife into the country and had kept her there, concealing her +beauty and accomplishments from the public in a most cruel manner, and how, +after spending a certain number of years in alternately weeping and producing +progeny, she had quite lately run away with somebody unspeakable—I think it was +the footman, or the baker, or some one of that sort. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am quite happy,” I began, as soon as I could put in a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it,” and the female potentate +patted my hand, but continued gloomily to shake her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone,” asserted another +lady, the wife of a high military authority and not accustomed to be +contradicted. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I <i>am</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t want to be brought to town.” +</p> + +<p> +“And not let you waste your best years buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I like being buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such solitude is not right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not solitary.” +</p> + +<p> +“And can come to no good.” She was getting quite angry. +</p> + +<p> +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, and renewed shaking of +heads. +</p> + +<p> +“I enjoyed the winter immensely,” I persisted when they were a little quieter; +“I sleighed and skated, and then there were the children, and shelves and +shelves full of—” I was going to say books, but stopped. Reading is an +occupation for men; for women it is reprehensible waste of time. And how could +I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the sun shone on the snow, or of +the deep delight of hoar-frost days? +</p> + +<p> +“It is entirely my doing that we have come down here,” I proceeded, “and my +husband only did it to please me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such a good little wife,” repeated the patronising potentate, again patting my +hand with an air of understanding all about it, “really an excellent little +wife. But you must not let your husband have his own way too much, my dear, and +take my advice and insist on his bringing you to town next winter.” And then +they fell to talking about their cooks, having settled to their entire +satisfaction that my fate was probably lying in wait for me too, lurking +perhaps at that very moment behind the apparently harmless brass buttons of the +man in the hall with my cloak. +</p> + +<p> +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction when we +reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the pretty old house; +and when I went into the library, with its four windows open to the moonlight +and the scent, and looked round at the familiar bookshelves, and could hear no +sounds but sounds of peace, and knew that here I might read or dream or idle +exactly as I chose with never a creature to disturb me, how grateful I felt to +the kindly Fate that has brought me here and given me a heart to understand my +own blessedness, and rescued me from a life like that I had just seen—a life +spent with the odours of other people’s dinners in one’s nostrils, and the +noise of their wrangling servants in one’s ears, and parties and tattle for all +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed when some grand +person, examining the details of my home through her eyeglass, and coolly +dissecting all that I so much prize from the convenient distance of the open +window, has finished up by expressing sympathy with my loneliness, and on my +protesting that I like it, has murmured, “<i>sehr anspruchslos</i>.” Then +indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness of my wants; but only for a moment, +and only under the withering influence of the eyeglass; for, after all, the +owner’s spirit is the same spirit as that which dwells in my servants—girls +whose one idea of happiness is to live in a town where there are others of +their sort with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. The passion +for being for ever with one’s fellows, and the fear of being left for a few +hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. I can entertain myself quite +well for weeks together, hardly aware, except for the pervading peace, that I +have been alone at all. Not but what I like to have people staying with me for +a few days, or even for a few weeks, should they be as <i>anspruchslos</i> as I +am myself, and content with simple joys; only, any one who comes here and would +be happy must have something in him; if he be a mere blank creature, empty of +head and heart, he will very probably find it dull. I should like my house to +be often full if I could find people capable of enjoying themselves. They +should be welcomed and sped with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to +confess that, though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just as much +to see them go. +</p> + +<p> +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually longed for some +one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. There has been rain in the +night, and the whole garden seems to be singing—not the untiring birds only, +but the vigorous plants, the happy grass and trees, the lilac bushes—oh, those +lilac bushes! They are all out to-day, and the garden is drenched with the +scent. I have brought in armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every pot +and bowl and tub in the house is filled with purple glory, and the servants +think there is going to be a party and are extra nimble, and I go from room to +room gazing at the sweetness, and the windows are all flung open so as to join +the scent within to the scent without; and the servants gradually discover that +there is no party, and wonder why the house should be filled with flowers for +one woman by herself, and I long more and more for a kindred spirit—it seems so +greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself—but kindred spirits are so very, +very rare; I might almost as well cry for the moon. It is true that my garden +is full of friends, only they are—dumb. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>June</i> 3<i>rd</i>.—This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that +it requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus delivered +from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, or people who +love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to be deterred from +coming by the roundabout train journey and the long drive at the end. Not the +least of my many blessings is that we have only one neighbour. If you have to +have neighbours at all, it is at least a mercy that there should be only one; +for with people dropping in at all hours and wanting to talk to you, how are +you to get on with your life, I should like to know, and read your books, and +dream your dreams to your satisfaction? Besides, there is always the certainty +that either you or the dropper-in will say something that would have been +better left unsaid, and I have a holy horror of gossip and mischief-making. A +woman’s tongue is a deadly weapon and the most difficult thing in the world to +keep in order, and things slip off it with a facility nothing short of +appalling at the very moment when it ought to be most quiet. In such cases the +only safe course is to talk steadily about cooks and children, and to pray that +the visit may not be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. Cooks I have +found to be the best of all subjects—the most phlegmatic flush into life at the +mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected with them are experiences +common to us all. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, with a whole +troop of flaxen-haired little children to keep them occupied, besides the +business of their large estate. Our intercourse is arranged on lines of the +most beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, and she returns the call +a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner in the summer, and we ask them to +dinner in the winter. By strictly keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that +closer friendship which is only another name for frequent quarrels. She is a +pattern of what a German country lady should be, and is not only a pretty woman +but an energetic and practical one, and the combination is, to say the least, +effective. She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the stock, the +butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; a thousand things get done +while most people are fast asleep, and before lazy folk are well at breakfast +she is off in her pony-carriage to the other farms on the place, to rate the +“mamsells,” as the head women are called, to poke into every corner, lift the +lids off the saucepans, count the new-laid eggs, and box, if necessary, any +careless dairymaid’s ears. We are allowed by law to administer “slight corporal +punishment” to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste to +decide what “slight” shall be, and my neighbour really seems to enjoy using +this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. I would give much to +be able to peep through a keyhole and see the dauntless little lady, terrible +in her wrath and dignity, standing on tiptoe to box the ears of some great +strapping girl big enough to eat her. +</p> + +<p> +The making of cheese and butter and sausages <i>excellently</i> well is a work +which requires brains, and is, to my thinking, a very admirable form of +activity, and entirely worthy of the attention of the intelligent. That my +neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident by the bright alertness of her +eyes—eyes that nothing escapes, and that only gain in prettiness by being used +to some good purpose. She is a recognised authority for miles around on the +mysteries of sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; +and with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home, her +children are patterns of health and neatness, and of what dear little German +children, with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick legs, should be. Who +shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and unworthy of a high order of +intelligence? I protest that to me it is a beautiful life, full of wholesome +outdoor work, and with no room for those listless moments of depression and +boredom, and of wondering what you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a +pretty woman’s eyes, and are not unknown even to the most brilliant. But while +admiring my neighbour, I don’t think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, +my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather of +that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume +of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow +trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green +pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous +fields. And it would make me perfectly wretched to be confronted by ears so +refractory as to require boxing. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it is on these +occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is, and how far +away from his neighbour; and while they talk (generally about babies, past, +present, and to come), I fall to wondering at the vast and impassable distance +that separates one’s own soul from the soul of the person sitting in the next +chair. I am speaking of comparative strangers, people who are forced to stay a +certain time by the eccentricities of trains, and in whose presence you grope +about after common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that +you have none. Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute +more benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in the air and look +vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of wondering who they most +take after, generally settling the question by saying that the May baby, who is +the beauty, is like her father, and that the two more or less plain ones are +the image of me, and this decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is +coming, never fails to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first +time. The babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it is hard that +they should be used as a means of filling up gaps in conversation, and their +features pulled to pieces one by one, and all their weak points noted and +criticised, while they stand smiling shyly in the operator’s face, their very +smile drawing forth comments on the shape of their mouths; but, after all, it +does not occur very often, and they are one of those few interests one has in +common with other people, as everybody seems to have babies. A garden, I have +discovered, is by no means a fruitful topic, and it is amazing how few persons +really love theirs—they all pretend they do, but you can hear by the very tone +of their voice what a lukewarm affection it is. About June their interest is at +its warmest, nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses; but on +reflection I don’t know a single person within twenty miles who really cares +for his garden, or has discovered the treasures of happiness that are buried in +it, and are to be found if sought for diligently, and if needs be with tears. +It is after these rare calls that I experience the only moments of depression +from which I ever suffer, and then I am angry at myself, a well-nourished +person, for allowing even a single precious hour of life to be spoilt by +anything so indifferent. That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed +enough, and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably +desire—on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy by such +abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach to your +neighbour’s soul; which is on the face of it foolish, the probability being +that he hasn’t got one. +</p> + +<p> +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, put them right +along the very front of two borders, and I don’t know what his feelings can be +now that they are all flowering and the plants behind are completely hidden; +but I have learned another lesson, and no future gardener shall be allowed to +run riot among my rockets in quite so reckless a fashion. They are charming +things, as delicate in colour as in scent, and a bowl of them on my +writing-table fills the room with fragrance. Single rows, however, are a +mistake; I had masses of them planted in the grass, and these show how lovely +they can be. A border full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, must +be beautiful; but I don’t know how long they last nor what they look like when +they have done flowering. This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. +Was ever a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? No doubt +it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to learn solely +by my failures, and if I had some kind creature to tell me when to do things. +At present the only flowers in the garden are the rockets, the pansies in the +rose beds, and two groups of azaleas—mollis and pontica. The azaleas have been +and still are gorgeous; I only planted them this spring and they almost at once +began to flower, and the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were +filled with imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. Orange, lemon, pink in every +delicate shade—what they will be next year and in succeeding years when the +bushes are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. On gray, +dull days the effect is absolutely startling. Next autumn I shall make a great +bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a gloomy nook. My +tea-roses are covered with buds which will not open for at least another week, +so I conclude this is not the sort of climate where they will flower from the +very beginning of June to November, as they are said to do. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>July</i> 11<i>th</i>.—There has been no rain since the day before +Whitsunday, five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad soon after +Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took to going about with a +spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, explaining that he felt safer +that way, and we bore it quite patiently, as becomes civilised beings who +respect each other’s prejudices, until one day, when I mildly asked him to tie +up a fallen creeper—and after he bought the revolver my tones in addressing him +were of the mildest, and I quite left off reading to him aloud—he turned round, +looked me straight in the face for the first time since he has been here, and +said, “Do I look like Graf X———— (a great local celebrity), or like a monkey?” +After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as +expeditiously as possible. There was no gardener to be had in his place, and I +have only just succeeded in getting one; so that what with the drought, and the +neglect, and the gardener’s madness, and my blunders, the garden is in a sad +condition; but even in a sad condition it is the dearest place in the world, +and all my mistakes only make me more determined to persevere. +</p> + +<p> +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. The rockets +have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets in other walks of life, +have degenerated into sticks; and nothing else in those borders intends to +bloom this summer. The giant poppies I had planted out in them in April have +either died off or remained quite small, and so have the columbines; here and +there a delphinium droops unwillingly, and that is all. I suppose poppies +cannot stand being moved, or perhaps they were not watered enough at the time +of transplanting; anyhow, those borders are going to be sown to-morrow with +more poppies for next year; for poppies I will have, whether they like it or +not, and they shall not be touched, only thinned out. +</p> + +<p> +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I come out and sit +under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, and see the sunshine on the +cornfields away on the plain, all the disappointment smooths itself out, and it +seems impossible to be sad and discontented when everything about me is so +radiant and kind. +</p> + +<p> +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in this shady +corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across the grass, and +listening to the rooks quarrelling in the treetops, I almost expect to hear +English church bells ringing for the afternoon service. But the church is three +miles off, has no bells, and no afternoon service. Once a fortnight we go to +morning prayer at eleven and sit up in a sort of private box with a room +behind, whither we can retire unobserved when the sermon is too long or our +flesh too weak, and hear ourselves being prayed for by the black-robed parson. +In winter the church is bitterly cold; it is not heated, and we sit muffled up +in more furs than ever we wear out of doors; but it would of course be very +wicked for the parson to wear furs, however cold he may be, so he puts on a +great many extra coats under his gown, and, as the winter progresses, swells to +a prodigious size. We know when spring is coming by the reduction in his +figure. The congregation sit at ease while the parson does the praying for +them, and while they are droning the long-drawn-out chorales, he retires into a +little wooden box just big enough to hold him. He does not come out until he +thinks we have sung enough, nor do we stop until his appearance gives us the +signal. I have often thought how dreadful it would be if he fell ill in his box +and left us to go on singing. I am sure we should never dare to stop, +unauthorised by the Church. I asked him once what he did in there; he looked +very shocked at such a profane question, and made an evasive reply. +</p> + +<p> +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a terrible day; but in +the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief and more profound peace, +nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; only the little flowers themselves and +the whispering trees. +</p> + +<p> +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors—not stray callers to be got +rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are sorry afterwards +that you said, but people staying in the house and not to be got rid of at all. +All June was lost to me in this way, and it was from first to last a radiant +month of heat and beauty; but a garden where you meet the people you saw at +breakfast, and will see again at lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy +in. Besides, they had a knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in +them just when I longed to lounge myself; and they took books out of the +library with them, and left them face downwards on the seats all night to get +well drenched with dew, though they might have known that what is meat for +roses is poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they had had +the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long ago—whereas I +don’t believe a garden ever is finished. They have all gone now, thank heaven, +except one, so that I have a little breathing space before others begin to +arrive. It seems that the place interests people, and that there is a sort of +novelty in staying in such a deserted corner of the world, for they were in a +perpetual state of mild amusement at being here at all. +</p> + +<p> +Irais is the only one left. She is a young woman with a beautiful, refined +face, and her eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly lovable. At +meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites a bit off, and repeats the +process, although providence (taking my shape) has caused salt-spoons to be +placed at convenient intervals down the table. She lunched to-day on beer, +<i>Schweinekoteletten</i>, and cabbage-salad with caraway seeds in it, and now +I hear her through the open window, extemporising touching melodies in her +charming, cooing voice. She is thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on +the above diet. What better proof can be needed to establish the superiority of +the Teuton than the fact that after such meals he can produce such music? +Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, but I don’t doubt its utility as a means +of encouraging thoughtfulness; nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so +poetically, any more than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, and +I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. She is the sweetest singer I +have ever heard, and has a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along. +When she begins, I go and lean out of the window and look at my little friends +out there in the borders while listening to her music, and feel full of +pleasant sadness and regret. It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to +be sad about. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, the others hurrying +along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed for my admiration three +brand-new kittens, lean and blind, that she was carrying in her pinafore, and +that had just been found motherless in the woodshed. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” she cried breathlessly, “such a much!” +</p> + +<p> +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once before this +afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself down on the grass at +my feet, to ask about the <i>lieber Gott</i>, it being Sunday and her pious +little nurse’s conversation having run, as it seems, on heaven and angels. +</p> + +<p> +Her questions about the <i>lieber Gott</i> are better left unrecorded, and I +was relieved when she began about the angels. +</p> + +<p> +“What do they wear for clothes?” she asked in her German-English. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve seen them in pictures,” I answered, “in beautiful, long dresses, +and with big, white wings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Feathers?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,—and long dresses, all white and beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are they girlies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Girls? Ye—es.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t boys go into the <i>Himmel?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, if they’re good.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then what do <i>they</i> wear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Dwesses?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me of making +jokes. “What a funny Mummy!” she said, evidently much amused. She has a fat +little laugh that is very infectious. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said I, gravely, “you had better go and play with the other babies.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began writing +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Mummy,” she said presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do the angels get their dwesses?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated. “From <i>lieber Gott</i>,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Are there shops in the <i>Himmel?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Shops? No.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, then, where does <i>lieber Gott</i> buy their dwesses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now run away like a good baby; I’m busy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you said yesterday, when I asked about <i>lieber Gott</i>, that you would +tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about Him.” +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with a sigh. +“Call the others, then.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one after +the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The April baby got +the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the other two had to sit on +the grass. +</p> + +<p> +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. The April +baby’s eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder and redder. I was +surprised at the breathless interest she took in the story—the other two were +tearing up tufts of grass and hardly listening. I had scarcely got to the +angels with the flaming swords and announced that that was all, when she burst +out, “Now <i>I’ll</i> tell about it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, +and they had <i>plenty</i> of clothes, and there was no snake, and <i>lieber +Gott</i> wasn’t angry with them, and they could eat as many apples as they +liked, and was happy for ever and ever—there now!” +</p> + +<p> +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s not the story,” I said rather helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! It’s a much nicelier one! Now another.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these stories are <i>true</i>,” I said severely; “and it’s no use my +telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another! another!” she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled energy, +all her silvery curls flying. +</p> + +<p> +I began about Noah and the flood. +</p> + +<p> +“Did it rain <i>so</i> badly?” she asked with a face of the deepest concern and +interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks——” +</p> + +<p> +“And was everybody so wet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—” +</p> + +<p> +“But why didn’t they open their umbwellas?” +</p> + +<p> +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you the rest another time,” I said, putting her off my knee, greatly +relieved; “you must all go to Anna now and have tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like Anna,” remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened her +lips; “she is a stupid girl.” +</p> + +<p> +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for, besides +being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not to hurt any +one’s feelings, they had been brought up to love and respect their kind little +nurse. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger, pointed it +at the criminal in just indignation. “Such a child will never go into the +<i>Himmel</i>,” she said with great emphasis, and the air of one who delivers +judgment. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>September</i> 15<i>th</i>.—This is the month of quiet days, crimson +creepers, and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea +under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in the +library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon and +blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit cleaning +themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath shoots partridges +across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as though it would dream on +for ever. It is hard to believe that in three months we shall probably be +snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling about this month that +reminds me of March and the early days of April, when spring is still +hesitating on the threshold and the garden holds its breath in expectation. +There is the same mildness in the air, and the sky and grass have the same look +as then; but the leaves tell a different tale, and the reddening creeper on the +house is rapidly approaching its last and loveliest glory. +</p> + +<p> +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, and the +Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most beautiful, the +latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, each flower an exquisite +loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at the base to a yellow-white. I +have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses for planting next month, half of +which are Viscountess Folkestones, because the tea-roses have such a way of +hanging their little heads that one has to kneel down to be able to see them +well in the dwarf forms—not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such +perfect beauty, only it dirties one’s clothes. So I am going to put standards +down each side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the flowers +on a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they will stand the +winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so difficult to pack up snugly. +The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have been, as I predicted, a mistake among the +tea-roses; they only flower twice in the season and all the rest of the time +look dull and moping; and then the Persian Yellows have such an odd smell and +so many insects inside them eating them up. I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to +put in their place, as they all come out next month and are to be grouped in +the grass; and the semicircle being immediately under the windows, besides +having the best position in the place, must be reserved solely for my choicest +treasures. I have had a great many disappointments, but feel as though I were +really beginning to learn. Humility, and the most patient perseverance, seem +almost as necessary in gardening as rain and sunshine, and every failure must +be used as a stepping-stone to something better. +</p> + +<p> +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal about gardening and has had +much practical experience. When I heard he was coming, I felt I wanted to put +my arms right round my garden and hide it from him; but what was my surprise +and delight when he said, after having gone all over it, “Well, I think you +have done wonders.” Dear me, how pleased I was! It was so entirely unexpected, +and such a complete novelty after the remarks I have been listening to all the +summer. I could have hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, able to look +beyond the result to the intention, and appreciating the difficulties of every +kind that had been in the way. After that I opened my heart to him, and +listened reverently to all he had to say, and treasured up his kind and +encouraging advice, and wished he could stay here a whole year and help me +through the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, and he was +the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. +</p> + +<p> +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able to come to me, while I +can at any time fill the house with visitors about whom I know little and care +less. Perhaps, if I saw more of those absent ones, I would not love them so +well—at least, that is what I think on wet days when the wind is howling round +the house and all nature is overcome with grief; and it has actually happened +once or twice when great friends have been staying with me that I have wished, +when they left, I might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose +the fact is, that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, and here, in the +country, we invariably think it our duty to appear at breakfast. Civilisation +has done away with curl-papers, yet at that hour the soul of the +<i>Hausfrau</i> is as tightly screwed up in them as was ever her grandmother’s +hair; and though my body comes down mechanically, having been trained that way +by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of beginning to wake up for other +people till lunch-time, and never does so completely till it has been taken out +of doors and aired in the sunshine. Who can begin conventional amiability the +first thing in the morning? It is the hour of savage instincts and natural +tendencies; it is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. I am convinced +that the Muses and the Graces never thought of having breakfast anywhere but in +bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>November</i> 11<i>th</i>.—When the gray November weather came, and hung its +soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown of the ploughed fields and the +vivid emerald of the stretches of winter corn, the heavy stillness weighed my +heart down to a forlorn yearning after the pleasant things of childhood, the +petting, the comforting, the warming faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. A +great need of something to lean on, and a great weariness of independence and +responsibility took possession of my soul; and looking round for support and +comfort in that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness +of the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I not go +and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; the place where +I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, so close to heaven, so +near to hell, always either up on a cloud of glory, or down in the depths with +the waters of despair closing over my head? Cousins live in it now, distant +cousins, loved with the exact measure of love usually bestowed on cousins who +reign in one’s stead; cousins of practical views, who have dug up the +flower-beds and planted cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the +years since my father’s death I have held my head so high that it hurt, and +loftily refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I should revisit +my old home, something in the sad listlessness of the November days sent my +spirit back to old times with a persistency that would not be set aside, and I +woke from my musings surprised to find myself sick with longing. It is foolish +but natural to quarrel with one’s cousins, and especially foolish and natural +when they have done nothing, and are mere victims of chance. Is it their fault +that my not being a boy placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into +at their disposal? I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me +love them more. “<i>Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!</i>” cried my father, on my +arrival into the world—he had three of them already, and I was his last +hope,—and a <i>dummes Frauenzimmer</i> I have remained ever since; and that is +why for years I would have no dealings with the cousins in possession, and that +is why, the other day, overcome by the tender influence of the weather, the +purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood was enough to +send all my pride to the winds, and to start me off without warning and without +invitation on my pilgrimage. +</p> + +<p> +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had lived in the Middle +Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome. The pilgrims, leaving +all their cares at home, the anxieties of their riches or their debts, the wife +that worried and the children that disturbed, took only their sins with them, +and turning their backs on their obligations, set out with that sole burden, +and perhaps a cheerful heart. How cheerful my heart would have been, starting +on a fine morning, with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious blessings of my +family, with every step getting farther from the suffocation of daily duties, +out into the wide fresh world, out into the glorious free world, so poor, so +penitent, and so happy! My dream, even now, is to walk for weeks with some +friend that I love, leisurely wandering from place to place, with no route +arranged and no object in view, with liberty to go on all day or to linger all +day, as we choose; but the question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, +is one of the rocks on which my plans have been shipwrecked, and the other is +the certain censure of relatives, who, not fond of walking themselves, and +having no taste for noonday naps under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my +plans before they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry, “How +very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!” The relative of five +hundred years back would simply have said, “How holy!” +</p> + +<p> +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages—indeed, it is evident that I have +it from him—and he encouraged it in me when I was little, taking me with him on +his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a boy. Often have we been +together to the school he was at in Brandenburg, and spent pleasant days +wandering about the old town on the edge of one of those lakes that lie in a +chain in that wide green plain; and often have we been in Potsdam, where he was +quartered as a lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods +around and in the gardens of Sans Souci, with the second volume of Carlyle’s +Frederick under my father’s arm; and often did we spend long summer days at the +house in the Mark, at the head of the same blue chain of lakes, where his +mother spent her young years, and where, though it belonged to cousins, like +everything else that was worth having, we could wander about as we chose, for +it was empty, and sit in the deep windows of rooms where there was no +furniture, and the painted Venuses and cupids on the ceiling still smiled +irrelevantly and stretched their futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. +And while we sat and rested, my father told me, as my grandmother had a hundred +times told him, all that had happened in those rooms in the far-off days when +people danced and sang and laughed through life, and nobody seemed ever to be +old or sorry. +</p> + +<p> +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone’s throw of the great iron gates, +with two very old lime trees in front of it, where we used to lunch on our +arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue check cloth, the lime +blossoms dropping into our soup, and the bees humming in the scented shadows +overhead. I have a picture of the house by my side as I write, done from the +lake in old times, with a boat full of ladies in hoops and powder in the +foreground, and a youth playing a guitar. The pilgrimages to this place were +those I loved the best. +</p> + +<p> +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories to tell a +little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, or hung over the stone +balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, or picked the pale dog-roses in the +hedges, or lay in the boat in a shady reed-grown bay while he smoked to keep +the mosquitoes off, were after all only traditions, imparted to me in small +doses from time to time, when his earnest desire not to raise his remarks above +the level of dulness supposed to be wholesome for <i>Backfische</i> was +neutralised by an impulse to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh; +whereas the place I was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with +living, first-hand memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and +eighteen. How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me the +older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since; and though I +have forgotten most of what happened six months ago, every incident, almost +every day of those wonderful long years is perfectly distinct in my memory. +</p> + +<p> +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether cousinly in my +behaviour towards the people in possession. The invitations to revisit the old +home had ceased. The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and had left me +alone. I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so long since I had had +any news. For two days I fought against the strong desire to go there that had +suddenly seized me, and assured myself that I would not go, that it would be +absurd to go, undignified, sentimental, and silly, that I did not know them and +would be in an awkward position, and that I was old enough to know better. But +who can foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? And when does +she ever know better? On the third morning I set out as hopefully as though it +were the most natural thing in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto +consistently neglected cousins, and expect to be received with open arms. +</p> + +<p> +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. During the first part, +when it was still dark, I glowed with enthusiasm, with the spirit of adventure, +with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved place again; and +thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to pass since last I was +there. Of what I should say to the cousins, and of how I should introduce +myself into their midst, I did not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon +me, the unpractical spirit that takes no thought for anything, but simply +wanders along enjoying its own emotions. It was a quiet, sad morning, and there +was a thick mist. By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got over my first +enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically examining the changes that +had been made in the last ten years. It was so misty that I could see nothing +of the familiar country from the carriage windows, only the ghosts of pines in +the front row of the forests; but the railway itself was a new departure, +unknown in our day, when we used to drive over ten miles of deep, sandy forest +roads to and from the station, and although most people would have called it an +evident and great improvement, it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal +and energy of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he should +require more conveniences than my father had found needful? It was no use my +telling myself that in my father’s time the era of light railways had not +dawned, and that if it had, we should have done our utmost to secure one; the +thought of my cousin, stepping into my shoes, and then altering them, was +odious to me. By the time I was walking up the hill from the station I had got +over this feeling too, and had entered a third stage of wondering uneasily what +in the world I should do next. Where was the intrepid courage with which I had +started? At the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question in +detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. Where, +indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? It had vanished so completely +that I could only suppose that it must be lunch time, the observations of years +having led to the discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly +affrighted on the approach of lunch, and none fly quicker than courage. So I +ate the lunch I had brought with me, hoping that it was what I wanted; but it +was chilly, made up of sandwiches and pears, and it had to be eaten under a +tree at the edge of a field; and it was November, and the mist was thicker than +ever and very wet—the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, I +was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. Nobody’s spirits can keep +up under such conditions; and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, I deplored the +headlong courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm, dry home +where I was appreciated, and had brought me first to the damp tree in the damp +field, and when I had finished my lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to +drag me into the midst of a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. Vast +sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off. The sheep dog kept up a +perpetual, irritating yap. In the fog I could hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. After the fashion of +woman directly she is not perfectly warm and perfectly comfortable, I began to +consider the uncertainty of human life, and to shake my head in gloomy approval +as lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves to my mind. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want to do anything, to do it in the +way consecrated by custom, more especially if you are a woman. The rattle of a +carriage along the road just behind me, and the fact that I started and turned +suddenly hot, drove this truth home to my soul. The mist hid me, and the +carriage, no doubt full of cousins, drove on in the direction of the house; but +what an absurd position I was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, and +revealed me lunching in the wet on their property, the cousin of the short and +lofty letters, the <i>unangenehme Elisabeth!</i> “<i>Die war doch immer +verdreht</i>,” I could imagine them hastily muttering to each other, before +advancing wreathed in welcoming smiles. It gave me a great shock, this narrow +escape, and I got on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch +under the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, asked myself nervously +what I proposed to do next. Should I walk back to the village, go to the +<i>Gasthof</i>, write a letter craving permission to call on my cousins, and +wait there till an answer came? It would be a discreet and sober course to +pursue; the next best thing to having written before leaving home. But the +<i>Gasthof</i> of a north German village is a dreadful place, and the +remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge once from a thunderstorm was +still so vivid that nature itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if +anything, was growing denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. What if +I gave up all hope of seeing the house, and went through the little door in the +wall at the bottom of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? In +such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, without the least +risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, and it was after all the garden +that lay nearest my heart. What a delight it would be to creep into it +unobserved, and revisit all the corners I so well remembered, and slip out +again and get away safely without any need of explanations, assurances, +protestations, displays of affection, without any need, in a word, of that +exhausting form of conversation, so dear to relations, known as +<i>Redensarten!</i> +</p> + +<p> +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine day I would have gone +soberly to the <i>Gasthof</i> and written the conciliatory letter; but the +temptation was too great, it was altogether irresistible, and in ten minutes I +had found the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and was standing with a +beating heart in the garden of my childhood. +</p> + +<p> +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same potency as +those that ran through me at that moment. First of all I was trespassing, which +is in itself thrilling; but how much more thrilling when you are trespassing on +what might just as well have been your own ground, on what actually was for +years your own ground, and when you are in deadly peril of seeing the rightful +owners, whom you have never met, but with whom you have quarrelled, appear +round the corner, and of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful +politeness “I do not think I have the pleasure—?” Then the place was unchanged. +I was standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had +always been just there; they curled away on either side among the shrubs, with +the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of their green stains, just +as they did in my day. The overgrown lilac bushes still met above my head. The +moisture dripped from the same ledge in the wall on to the sodden leaves +beneath, as it had done all through the afternoons of all those past Novembers. +This was the place, this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to +me. Nobody ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, and in summer so +full of mosquitoes that only a <i>Backfisch</i> indifferent to spots could have +borne it. But it was a place where I could play unobserved, and where I could +walk up and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the air. There +was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, much frequented by the +larger black slug, where I used to pass glorious afternoons making plans. I was +for ever making plans, and if nothing came of them, what did it matter? The +mere making had been a joy. To me this out-of-the-way corner was always a +wonderful and a mysterious place, where my castles in the air stood close +together in radiant rows, and where the strangest and most splendid adventures +befell me; for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all +enchanted. +</p> + +<p> +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, I forgot the existence of the +cousins. I could have cried for joy at being there again. It was the home of my +fathers, the home that would have been mine if I had been a boy, the home that +was mine now by a thousand tender and happy and miserable associations, of +which the people in possession could not dream. They were tenants, but it was +my home. I threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, every branch +of which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, and fallen from it, and torn +and bruised myself on it uncountable numbers of times? and I gave it such a +hearty kiss that my nose and chin were smudged into one green stain, and still +I did not care. Far from caring, it filled me with a reckless, <i>Backfisch</i> +pleasure in being dirty, a delicious feeling that I had not had for years. +Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the contents of the magic bottle, +could not have grown smaller more suddenly than I grew younger the moment I +passed through that magic door. Bad habits cling to us, however, with such +persistency that I did mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub +off the welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed of doing in the +glorious old days; but an artful scent of violets clinging to the handkerchief +brought me to my senses, and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for +scent of every honest <i>Backfisch</i>, I rolled it up into a ball and flung it +away into the bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment. “Away with you,” I +cried, “away with you, symbol of conventionality, of slavery, of pandering to a +desire to please—away with you, miserable little lace-edged rag!” And so young +had I grown within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. +</p> + +<p> +As a <i>Backfisch</i> I had never used handkerchiefs—the child of nature scorns +to blow its nose—though for decency’s sake my governess insisted on giving me a +clean one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. It was stowed away +unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, where it was gradually pressed +into a beautiful compactness by the other contents, which were knives. After a +while, I remember, the handkerchief being brought to light on Sundays to make +room for a successor, and being manifestly perfectly clean, we came to an +agreement that it should only be changed on the first and third Sundays in the +month, on condition that I promised to turn it on the other Sundays. My +governess said that the outer folds became soiled from the mere contact with +the other things in my pocket, and that visitors might catch sight of the +soiled side if it was never turned when I wished to blow my nose in their +presence, and that one had no right to give one’s visitors shocks. “But I never +do wish——” I began with great earnestness. “<i>Unsinn</i>,” said my governess, +cutting me short. +</p> + +<p> +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, the profound +stillness of the dripping little shrubbery frightened me. It was so still that +I was afraid to move; so still, that I could count each drop of moisture +falling from the oozing wall; so still, that when I held my breath to listen, I +was deafened by my own heart-beats. I made a step forward in the direction +where the arbour ought to be, and the rustling and jingling of my clothes +terrified me into immobility. The house was only two hundred yards off; and if +any one had been about, the noise I had already made opening the creaking door +and so foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. Suppose +an inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, should presently loom through the +fog, bearing down upon me? Suppose Fräulein Wundermacher should pounce upon me +suddenly from behind, coming up noiselessly in her galoshes, and shatter my +castles with her customary triumphant “<i>Jetzt halte ich dich aber fest!</i>” +Why, what was I thinking of? Fräulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such +an enemy of day-dreams, such a friend of <i>das Praktische</i>, such a lover of +creature comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded long ago by others, +German sometimes, and sometimes English, and sometimes at intervals French, and +they too had all in their turn vanished, and I was here a solitary ghost. +“Come, Elizabeth,” said I to myself impatiently, “are you actually growing +sentimental over your governesses? If you think you are a ghost, be glad at +least that you are a solitary one. Would you like the ghosts of all those poor +women you tormented to rise up now in this gloomy place against you? And do you +intend to stand here till you are caught?” And thus exhorting myself to action, +and recognising how great was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down the +little path leading to the arbour and the principal part of the garden, going, +it is true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened by the rustling of my +petticoats, but determined to see what I had come to see and not to be scared +away by phantoms. +</p> + +<p> +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the petticoats of my youth, so +short, so silent, and so woollen! And how convenient the canvas shoes were with +the india rubber soles, for creeping about without making a sound! Thanks to +them I could always run swiftly and unheard into my hiding-places, and stay +there listening to the garden resounding with cries of “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! +Come in at once to your lessons!” Or, at a different period, “<i>Où êtes-vous +donc, petite sotte?</i>” Or at yet another period, “<i>Warte nur, wenn ich dich +erst habe!</i>” As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fräulein Wundermacher, a person of +resource, who discovered that all she needed for my successful circumvention +was galoshes. She purchased a pair, wasted no breath calling me, and would come +up silently, as I stood lapped in a false security lost in the contemplation of +a squirrel or a robin, and seize me by the shoulders from behind, to the +grievous unhinging of my nerves. Stealing along in the fog, I looked back +uneasily once or twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could hardly +be reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate twists and curls that +compose what my maid calls my <i>Frisur</i>, and that mark the gulf lying +between the present and the past; for it had happened once or twice, awful to +relate and to remember, that Fräulein Wundermacher, sooner than let me slip +through her fingers, had actually caught me by the long plait of hair to whose +other end I was attached and whose English name I had been told was pigtail, +just at the instant when I was springing away from her into the bushes; and so +had led me home triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, and muttering +with a broad smile of special satisfaction, “<i>Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht +entschlüpfen!</i>” Fräulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must have +been a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. But I wished +at that moment that she would not haunt me so persistently, and that I could +get rid of the feeling that she was just behind in her galoshes, with her hand +stretched out to seize me. +</p> + +<p> +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started back with my +heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather’s stern eyes shining in the +darkness. It was evident that my anxiety lest the cousins should catch me had +quite upset my nerves, for I am not by nature inclined to see eyes where eyes +are not. “Don’t be foolish, Elizabeth,” murmured my soul in rather a faint +voice, “go in, and make sure.” “But I don’t like going in and making sure,” I +replied. I did go in, however, with a sufficient show of courage, and +fortunately the eyes vanished. What I should have done if they had not I am +altogether unable to imagine. Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime +and fear at night, but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The arbour +had fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of mouldiness. My +grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, it enjoyed a period of +prosperity before being left to the ravages of slugs and children, when he came +down every afternoon in summer and drank his coffee there and read his +<i>Kreuzzeitung</i> and dozed, while the rest of us went about on tiptoe, and +only the birds dared sing. Even the mosquitoes that infested the place were too +much in awe of him to sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I +naturally concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my memory +skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was exclusively his. +Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I felt how well I knew him +now from the impressions he made then on my child’s mind, though I was not +conscious of them for more than twenty years. Nobody told me about him, and he +died when I was six, and yet within the last year or two, that strange Indian +summer of remembrance that comes to us in the leisured times when the children +have been born and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. +It is rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially for the +parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though children may not +understand what is said and done before them, and have no interest in it at the +time, and though they may forget it at once and for years, yet these things +that they have seen and heard and not noticed have after all impressed +themselves for ever on their minds, and when they are men and women come +crowding back with surprising and often painful distinctness, and away frisk +all the cherished little illusions in flocks. +</p> + +<p> +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. He never petted, and he often +frowned, and such people are generally reverenced. Besides, he was a just man, +everybody said; a just man who might have been a great man if he had chosen, +and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory. That he had not so chosen +was held to be a convincing proof of his greatness; for he was plainly too +great to be great in the vulgar sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of +privacy and potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still did +nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. People must believe in +somebody, and having pinned their faith on my grandfather in the promising +years that lie round thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there. He +pervaded our family life till my sixth year, and saw to it that we all behaved +ourselves, and then he died, and we were glad that he should be in heaven. He +was a good German (and when Germans are good they are very good) who kept the +commandments, voted for the Government, grew prize potatoes and bred +innumerable sheep, drove to Berlin once a year with the wool in a procession of +waggons behind him and sold it at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a +few days there, and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as often as +possible, helped his friends, punished his children, read his Bible, said his +prayers, and was genuinely astonished when his wife had the affectation to die +of a broken heart. I cannot pretend to explain this conduct. She ought, of +course, to have been happy in the possession of so good a man; but good men are +sometimes oppressive, and to have one in the house with you and to live in the +daily glare of his goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him +seven sons and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother died in the way +described, and afforded, said my grandfather, another and a very curious proof +of the impossibility of ever being sure of your ground with women. The incident +faded more quickly from his mind than it might otherwise have done for its +having occurred simultaneously with the production of a new kind of potato, of +which he was justly proud. He called it <i>Trost in Trauer</i>, and quoted the +text of Scripture <i>Auge um Auge, Zabn um Zahn</i>, after which he did not +again allude to his wife’s decease. In his last years, when my father managed +the estate, and he only lived with us and criticised, he came to have the +reputation of an oracle. The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of +any important phase in their lives, and he received them in this very arbour, +administering eloquent and minute advice in the deep voice that rolled round +the shrubbery and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as I played. Sitting +among the bushes playing muffled games for fear of disturbing him, I supposed +he must be reading aloud, so unbroken was the monotony of that majestic roll. +The young men used to come out again bathed in perspiration, much stung by +mosquitoes, and looking bewildered; and when they had got over the impression +made by my grandfather’s speech and presence, no doubt forgot all he had said +with wholesome quickness, and set themselves to the interesting and necessary +work of gaining their own experience. Once, indeed, a dreadful thing happened, +whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end to the long and close friendship +between us and our nearest neighbour. His son was brought to the arbour and +left there in the usual way, and either he must have happened on the critical +half hour after the coffee and before the <i>Kreuzzeitung</i>, when my +grandfather was accustomed to sleep, or he was more courageous than the others +and tried to talk, for very shortly, playing as usual near at hand, I heard my +grandfather’s voice, raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and +quake, saying with deliberate anger, “<i>Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des +Satans!</i>” Which was all the advice this particular young man got, and which +he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, and though his face +was very pale, there was an odd twist about the corners of his mouth that +reassured me. +</p> + +<p> +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather’s life, for almost +immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he need have done +because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with him, in the face of +his doctor’s warning that if he did he would surely die. “What! am I to be +conquered by crabs?” he demanded indignantly of the doctor; for apart from +loving them with all his heart he had never yet been conquered by anything. +“Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal—do not, I pray you, try it again,” replied +the doctor. But my grandfather ordered crabs that very night for supper, and +went in to table with the shining eyes of one who is determined to conquer or +die, and the crabs conquered, and he died. “He was a just man,” said the +neighbours, except that nearest neighbour, formerly his best friend, “and might +have been a great one had he so chosen.” And they buried him with profound +respect, and the sunshine came into our home life with a burst, and the birds +were not the only creatures that sang, and the arbour, from having been a +temple of Delphic utterances, sank into a home for slugs. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable ultimate triumph of +the insignificant and small over the important and vast, illustrated in this +instance by the easy substitution in the arbour of slugs for grandfathers, I +went slowly round the next bend of the path, and came to the broad walk along +the south side of the high wall dividing the flower garden from the kitchen +garden, in which sheltered position my father had had his choicest flowers. +Here the cousins had been at work, and all the climbing roses that clothed the +wall with beauty were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed up at +proper intervals, reigned in their stead. Evidently the cousins knew the value +of this warm aspect, for in the border beneath, filled in my father’s time in +this month of November with the wallflowers that were to perfume the walk in +spring, there was a thick crop of—I stooped down close to make sure—yes, a +thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled with tears at the sight of those +radishes, and it is probably the only occasion on record on which radishes have +made anybody cry. My dear father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn +passionately loved this particular border, and spent the spare moments of a +busy life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. He had no time himself for a +more near acquaintance with the delights of gardening than directing what +plants were to be used, but found rest from his daily work strolling up and +down here, or sitting smoking as close to the flowers as possible. “It is the +Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest Refreshment to the Spirits of +Man,” he would quote (for he read other things besides the +<i>Kreuzzeitung</i>), looking round with satisfaction on reaching this fragrant +haven after a hot day in the fields. Well, the cousins did not think so. Less +fanciful, and more sensible as they probably would have said, their position +plainly was that you cannot eat flowers. Their spirits required no refreshment, +but their bodies needed much, and therefore radishes were more precious than +wallflowers. Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they were grown +in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners and old cucumber frames, +and would never have been allowed to come among the flowers. And only because I +was not a boy here they were profaning the ground that used to be so beautiful. +Oh, it was a terrible misfortune not to have been a boy! And how sad and lonely +it was, after all, in this ghostly garden. The radish bed and what it +symbolised had turned my first joy into grief. This walk and border me too much +of my father reminded, and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he had +taught me, and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once during all +the years we lived together had we been of different opinions and fallen out, +and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. I was four years old, and +demanded one Sunday to be taken to church. My father said no, for I had never +been to church, and the German service is long and exhausting. I implored. He +again said no. I implored again, and showed such a pious disposition, and so +earnest a determination to behave well, that he gave in, and we went off very +happily hand in hand. “Now mind, Elizabeth,” he said, turning to me at the +church door, “there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted on +being brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end.” “Oh, yes, oh, yes,” +I promised eagerly, and went in filled with holy fire. The shortness of my +legs, hanging helplessly for two hours midway between the seat and the floor, +was the weapon chosen by Satan for my destruction. In German churches you do +not kneel, and seldom stand, but sit nearly the whole time, praying and singing +in great comfort. If you are four years old, however, this unchanged position +soon becomes one of torture. Unknown and dreadful things go on in your legs, +strange prickings and tinglings and dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying +numbness, when you think they must have dropped off but are afraid to look, +then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. I thought I must +be very ill, for I had never known my legs like that before. My father sitting +beside me was engrossed in the singing of a chorale that evidently had no end, +each verse finished with a long-drawn-out hallelujah, after which the organ +played by itself for a hundred years—by the organist’s watch, which was wrong, +two minutes exactly—and then another verse began. My father, being the patron +of the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon with +exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little church was on our pew, +and at first I tried to imitate him; but the behaviour of my legs became so +alarming that after vainly casting imploring glances at him and seeing that he +continued his singing unmoved, I put out my hand and pulled his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“Hal-le-lu-jah,” sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low voice +without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly moving, and his +eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the organist, who was also the +postman, should have finished his solo, “Did I not tell thee to sit still, +Elizabeth?” “Yes, but——” “Then do it.” “But I want to go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Unsinn</i>.” And the next verse beginning, my father sang louder than ever. +What could I do? Should I cry? I began to be afraid I was going to die on that +chair, so extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. What could my father do +to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of small children I felt that he +could not put me in the corner in church, nor would he whip me in public, and +that with the whole village looking on, he was helpless, and would have to give +in. Therefore I tugged his sleeve again and more peremptorily, and prepared to +demand my immediate removal in a loud voice. But my father was ready for me. +Without interrupting his singing, or altering his devout expression, he put his +hand slowly down and gave me a hard pinch—not a playful pinch, but a good hard +unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, and then went on +serenely to the next hallelujah. For a moment I was petrified with +astonishment. Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, adorer, and friend? +Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a nicely stretched, tight +skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I opened my mouth to shriek in +earnest, when my father’s clear whisper fell on my ear, each word distinct and +not to be misunderstood, his eyes as before gazing meditatively into space, and +his lips hardly moving, “<i>Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du +platzt</i>.” And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Will Satan mich verschlingen,<br> +So lass die Engel singen<br> + Hallelujah!” +</p> + +<p> +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing slave, and +after that I was his. +</p> + +<p> +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to the door +in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of which my own little +garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood still a moment before going +through, to hold my breath and listen. The silence was as profound as before. +The place seemed deserted; and I should have thought the house empty and shut +up but for the carefully tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green +of the path. They were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine +a specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow sitting +on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in my life jumped, +and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my nerves were all to pieces, +for I gathered up my skirts and fled through the door as though a whole army of +ghosts and cousins were at my heels, nor did I stop till I had reached the +remote corner where my garden was. “Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?” +asked the mocking sprite that calls itself my soul: but I was too much out of +breath to answer. +</p> + +<p> +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated from the main garden and +the house by the wall, and shut in on the north side by an orchard, and it was +to the last degree unlikely that any one would come there on such an afternoon. +This plot of ground, turned now as I saw into a rockery, had been the scene of +my most untiring labours. Into the cold earth of this north border on which the +sun never shone I had dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been +spent on it, and as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, in a fatal +hour I had borrowed from Fräulein Wundermacher, selling her my independence, +passing utterly into her power, forced as a result till my next birthday should +come round to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner in her company, against +which my very soul revolted. And after all, nothing came up. The labour of +digging and watering, the anxious zeal with which I pounced on weeds, the +poring over gardening books, the plans made as I sat on the little seat in the +middle gazing admiringly and with the eye of faith on the trim surface so soon +to be gemmed with a thousand flowers, the reckless expenditure of +<i>pfennings</i>, the humiliation of my position in regard to Fräulein +Wundermacher,—all, all had been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. +The gardener who reigned supreme in those days had given me this big piece for +that sole reason, because he could do nothing with it himself. He was no doubt +of opinion that it was quite good enough for a child to experiment upon, and +went his way, when I had thanked him with a profuseness of gratitude I still +remember, with an unmoved countenance. For more than a year I worked and +waited, and watched the career of the flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled +feelings. The orchard was only a few yards away, and yet, although my garden +was full of manure, and water, and attentions that were never bestowed on the +orchard, all it could show and ever did show were a few unhappy beginnings of +growth that either remained stationary and did not achieve flowers, or dwindled +down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked the gardener if he could explain +these signs and wonders, but he was a busy man with no time for answering +questions, and told me shortly that gardening was not learned in a day. How +well I remember that afternoon, and the very shape of the lazy clouds, and the +smell of spring things, and myself going away abashed and sitting on the shaky +bench in my domain and wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made +the difference between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. The fruit +trees, far enough away from the wall to be beyond the reach of its cold shade, +were tossing their flower-laden heads in the sunshine in a carelessly +well-satisfied fashion that filled my heart with envy. There was a rise in the +field behind them, and at the foot of its protecting slope they luxuriated in +the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. It was May, and my heart +bled at the thought of the tulips I had put in in November, and that I had +never seen since. The whole of the rest of the garden was on fire with tulips; +behind me, on the other side of the wall, were rows and rows of them,—cups of +translucent loveliness, a jewelled ring flung right round the lawn. But what +was there not on the other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew and +flowered exactly as my gardening books said they should do; and in front of me, +in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever troubled about or cultivated or +noticed throve joyously beneath the trees,—daffodils thrusting their spears +through the grass, crocuses peeping out inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their +small cold faces when the first shivering spring days came. Only my piece that +I so loved was perpetually ugly and empty. And I sat in it thinking of these +things on that radiant day, and wept aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me busily digging, and +noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps by the difference between my +garden and the profusion of splendour all around, paused with his barrow on the +path in front of me, and remarked that nobody could expect to get blood out of +a stone. The apparent irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, +the bitter tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, and harangued +me from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips and +blood and stones till my tears all dried up again and I listened attentively, +for the conclusion to be drawn from his remarks was plainly that I had been +shamefully taken in by the head gardener, who was an unprincipled person +thenceforward to be for ever mistrusted and shunned. Standing on the path from +which the kindly apprentice had expounded his proverb, this scene rose before +me as clearly as though it had taken place that very day; but how different +everything looked, and how it had shrunk! Was this the wide orchard that had +seemed to stretch away, it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of +heaven? I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a certain +time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up my mind that on +that Day the heavenly host would enter the world by that very field, coming +down the slope in shining ranks, treading the daffodils under foot, filling the +orchard with their songs of exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from +among the goats. Of course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head +gardener goats, so that the results could not fail to be in every way +satisfactory. But looking up at the slope and remembering my visions, I laughed +at the smallness of the field I had supposed would hold all heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my garden was occupied by +a rockery, and the orchard grass with all its treasures had been dug up, and +the spaces between the trees planted with currant bushes and celery in +admirable rows; so that no future little cousins will be able to dream of +celestial hosts coming towards them across the fields of daffodils, and will +perhaps be the better for being free from visions of the kind, for as I grew +older, uncomfortable doubts laid hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim +uncertainties as to the exact ultimate position of the gardener and the +governess, anxious questionings as to how it would be if it were they who +turned out after all to be sheep, and I who—? For that we all three might be +gathered into the same fold at the last never, in those days, struck me as +possible, and if it had I should not have liked it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what sort of person can that be,” I asked myself, shaking my head, as I +contemplated the changes before me, “who could put a rockery among vegetables +and currant bushes? A rockery, of all things in the gardening world, needs +consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier to make mistakes in forming a +rockery than in any other garden scheme. Either it is a great success, or it is +great failure; either it is very charming, or it is very absurd. There is no +state between the sublime and the ridiculous possible in a rockery.” I stood +shaking my head disapprovingly at the rockery before me, lost in these +reflections, when a sudden quick pattering of feet coming along in a great +hurry made me turn round with a start, just in time to receive the shock of a +body tumbling out of the mist and knocking violently against me. +</p> + +<p> +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” said the little girl in excellent English; and then we stared at each +other in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were Miss Robinson,” said the little girl, offering no apology +for having nearly knocked me down. “Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?” I repeated, my eyes fixed on the little girl’s +face, and a host of memories stirring within me. “Why, didn’t she marry a +missionary, and go out to some place where they ate him?” +</p> + +<p> +The little girl stared harder. “Ate him? Marry? What, has she been married all +this time to somebody who’s been eaten and never let on? Oh, I say, what a +game!” And she threw back her head and laughed till the garden rang again. +</p> + +<p> +“O hush, you dreadful little girl!” I implored, catching her by the arm, and +terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. “Don’t make that horrid +noise—we are certain to be caught if you don’t stop——” +</p> + +<p> +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut her mouth +with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot buttons, came still +further out of her head. “Caught?” she said eagerly. “What, are you afraid of +being caught too? Well, this <i>is</i> a game!” And with her hands plunged deep +in the pockets of her coat she capered in front of me in the excess of her +enjoyment, reminding me of a very fat black lamb frisking round the dazed and +passive sheep its mother. +</p> + +<p> +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to the gate at the end +of the garden as quickly as possible, and I began to move away in that +direction. The little girl at once stopped capering and planted herself +squarely in front of me. “Who are you?” she said, examining me from my hat to +my boots with the keenest interest. +</p> + +<p> +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, and, +trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, was there before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. “Oh, I—I’m a +pilgrim,” I said in desperation. +</p> + +<p> +“A pilgrim!” echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, and while she was +struck I slipped past her and began to walk quickly towards the door in the +wall. “A pilgrim!” said the little girl, again, keeping close beside me, and +looking me up and down attentively. “I don’t like pilgrims. Aren’t they people +who are always walking about, and have things the matter with their feet? Have +you got anything the matter with your feet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” I replied indignantly, walking still faster. +</p> + +<p> +“And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don’t either, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not wash? Oh, I’m afraid you are a very badly brought-up little girl—oh, leave +me alone—I must run—” +</p> + +<p> +“So must I,” said the little girl, cheerfully, “for Miss Robinson must be close +behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you.” And she started running +by my side. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings to my feet, and, +casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was but little left, to the winds, +I fairly flew down the path. The little girl was not to be outrun, and though +she panted and turned weird colours, kept by my side and even talked. Oh, I was +tired, tired in body and mind, tired by the different shocks I had received, +tired by the journey, tired by the want of food; and here I was being forced to +run because this very naughty little girl chose to hide instead of going in to +her lessons. +</p> + +<p> +“I say—this is jolly—” she jerked out. +</p> + +<p> +“But why need we run to the same place?” I breathlessly asked, in the vain hope +of getting rid of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes—that’s just—the fun. We’d get on—together—you and I—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t stand washing—either—it’s awful—in winter—and makes one have—chaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t mind it in the least,” I protested faintly, not having any energy +left. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say!” said the little girl, looking at my face, and making the sound +known as a guffaw. The familiarity of this little girl was wholly revolting. +</p> + +<p> +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past the radishes, and +were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience how easy it was to hide in the +tangle of little paths, and stopped a moment to look round and listen. The +little girl opened her mouth to speak. With great presence of mind I instantly +put my muff in front of it and held it there tight, while I listened. Dead +silence, except for the laboured breathing and struggles of the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t hear a sound,” I whispered, letting her go again. “Now what did you +want to say?” I added, eyeing her severely. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to say,” she panted, “that it’s no good pretending you wash with a +nose like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“A nose like that! A nose like what?” I exclaimed, greatly offended; and though +I put up my hand and very tenderly and carefully felt it, I could find no +difference in it. “I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must have a wretched life,” I +said, in tones of deep disgust. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying her compliments. +“It’s all green and brown,” she said, pointing. “Is it always like that?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, and the enraptured kiss it +had received, and blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t it come off?” persisted the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it will come off,” I answered, frowning. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you rub it off?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, and blushed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Please lend me your handkerchief,” I said humbly, “I—I have lost mine.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then a handkerchief +that made me young again merely to look at it was produced. I took it +thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, intensely interested, +watching the operation and giving me advice. “There—it’s all right now—a little +more on the right—there—now it’s all off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure? No green left?” I anxiously asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s red all over now,” she replied cheerfully. “Let me get home,” thought +I, very much upset by this information, “let me get home to my dear, +uncritical, admiring babies, who accept my nose as an example of what a nose +should be, and whatever its colour think it beautiful.” And thrusting the +handkerchief back into the little girl’s hands, I hurried away down the path. +She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds for it was of the size of +a small sheet, and then came running after me. “Where are you going?” she asked +surprised, as I turned down the path leading to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Through this gate,” I replied with decision. +</p> + +<p> +“But you mustn’t—we’re not allowed to go through there——” +</p> + +<p> +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at the words <i>not +allowed</i> my hand dropped of itself from the latch; and at that instant a +voice calling quite close to us through the mist struck me rigid. +</p> + +<p> +“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” called the voice, “Come in at once to your +lessons—Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Miss Robinson,” whispered the little girl, twinkling with excitement; +then, catching sight of my face, she said once more with eager insistence, “Who +are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m a ghost!” I cried with conviction, pressing my hands to my forehead +and looking round fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh,” said the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking of +approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I pulled the +gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, and fled out and away +down the wide, misty fields. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Gotha Almanach</i> says that the reigning cousin married the daughter of +a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, and that in 1886 their only child was +born, Elizabeth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>November</i> 20<i>th</i>.—Last night we had ten degrees of frost +(Fahrenheit), and I went out the first thing this morning to see what had +become of the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake and quite +cheerful—covered with rime it is true, but anything but black and shrivelled. +Even those in boxes on each side of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and +full of buds, and one in particular, a Bouquet d’Or, is a mass of buds, and +would flower if it could get the least encouragement. I am beginning to think +that the tenderness of tea-roses is much exaggerated, and am certainly very +glad I had the courage to try them in this northern garden. But I must not fly +too boldly in the face of Providence, and have ordered those in the boxes to be +taken into the greenhouse for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d’Or, in a sunny +place near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. The greenhouse +is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature just above freezing, and is +reserved entirely for such plants as cannot stand the very coldest part of the +winter out of doors. I don’t use it for growing anything, because I don’t love +things that will only bear the garden for three or four months in the year and +require coaxing and petting for the rest of it. Give me a garden full of +strong, healthy creatures, able to stand roughness and cold without dismally +giving in and dying. I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely flowers to be had by +heat and constant coaxing, but then for each of these there are fifty others +still lovelier that will gratefully grow in God’s wholesome air and are blessed +in return with a far greater intensity of scent and colour. +</p> + +<p> +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds into order and +planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward to next summer with more +hope than ever in spite of my many failures. I wish the years would pass +quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! The Persian Yellows have gone +into their new quarters, and their place is occupied by the tea-rose Safrano; +all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies sown in July and transplanted in +October, each bed having a separate colour. The purple ones are the most +charming and go well with every rose, but I have white ones with Laurette +Messimy, and yellow ones with Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed +of red roses. Round the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge +two rows of annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, and +just beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard tea and +pillar roses. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked with larkspurs, annual +and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, pinks, Madonna lilies, wallflowers, +hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, peonies, lavender, starworts, cornflowers, +Lychnis chalcedonica, and bulbs packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are +the borders that were so hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes +for the verandah steps have been filled with pink and white and yellow tulips. +I love tulips better than any other spring flower; they are the embodiment of +alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, and next to a hyacinth look like a +wholesome, freshly tubbed young girl beside a stout lady whose every movement +weighs down the air with patchouli. Their faint, delicate scent is refinement +itself; and is there anything in the world more charming than the sprightly way +they hold up their little faces to the sun? I have heard them called bold and +flaunting, but to me they seem modest grace itself, only always on the alert to +enjoy life as much as they can and not afraid of looking the sun or anything +else above them in the face. On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted +with forget-me-nots; and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils and +narcissus. Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins will (I hope) +shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of firs, is graced by +Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. +</p> + +<p> +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak tree that stands +alone in the sun—groups of crocuses, daffodils, narcissus, hyacinths, and +tulips, among such flowering shrubs and trees as Pirus Malus spectabilis, +floribunda, and coronaria; Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, serotina, triloba, and +Pissardi; Cydonias and Weigelias in every colour, and several kinds of Cratægus +and other May lovelinesses. If the weather behaves itself nicely, and we get +gentle rains in due season, I think this little corner will be beautiful—but +what a big “if” it is! Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers +each contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all the ditches dried +up and the soil was like hot pastry. At such times the watering is naturally +quite beyond the strength of two men; but as a garden is a place to be happy +in, and not one where you want to meet a dozen curious eyes at every turn, I +should not like to have more than these two, or rather one and a half—the +assistant having stork-like proclivities and going home in the autumn to his +native Russia, returning in the spring with the first warm winds. I want to +keep him over the winter, as there is much to be done even then, and I sounded +him on the point the other day. He is the most abject-looking of human +beings—lame, and afflicted with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good worker +and plods along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, my good stork,” said I, or German words to that effect, “why don’t you +stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting away all you have +earned?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would stay,” he answered, “but I have my wife there in Russia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wife!” I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed creature +should have found a mate—as though there were not a superfluity of mates in the +world—“I didn’t know you were married?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I have two little children, and I don’t know what they would do if I +were not to come home. But it is a very expensive journey to Russia, and costs +me every time seven marks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven marks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is a great sum.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, supposing +I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. +</p> + +<p> +All the labourers who work here from March to December are Russians and Poles, +or a mixture of both. We send a man over who can speak their language, to fetch +as many as he can early in the year, and they arrive with their bundles, men +and women and babies, and as soon as they have got here and had their fares +paid, they disappear in the night if they get the chance, sometimes fifty of +them at a time, to go and work singly or in couples for the peasants, who pay +them a <i>pfenning</i> or two more a day than we do, and let them eat with the +family. From us they get a mark and a half to two marks a day, and as many +potatoes as they can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, but +because they are women and must not be encouraged. The overseer lives with +them, and has a loaded revolver in his pocket and a savage dog at his heels. +For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters and other +permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses they are put into. I +suppose they find it sleepy work; for certain it is that spring after spring +the same thing happens, fifty of them getting away in spite of all our +precautions, and we are left with our mouths open and much out of pocket. This +spring, by some mistake, they arrived without their bundles, which had gone +astray on the road, and, as they travel in their best clothes, they refused +utterly to work until their luggage came. Nearly a week was lost waiting, to +the despair of all in authority. +</p> + +<p> +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints’ days, and there +surely never was a church so full of them as the Russian Church. In the spring, +when every hour is of vital importance, the work is constantly being +interrupted by them, and the workers lie sleeping in the sun the whole day, +agreeably conscious that they are pleasing themselves and the Church at one and +the same time—a state of perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided +by Faith is of course exasperated at this waste of precious time, and I confess +that during the first mild days after the long winter frost when it is possible +to begin to work the ground, I have sympathised with the gloom of the Man of +Wrath, confronted in one week by two or three empty days on which no man will +labour, and have listened in silence to his remarks about distant Russian +saints. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation that made me pity +these people when first I came to live among them. They herd together like +animals and do the work of animals; but in spite of the armed overseer, the +dirt and the rags, the meals of potatoes washed down by weak vinegar and water, +I am beginning to believe that they would strongly object to soap, I am sure +they would not wear new clothes, and I hear them coming home from their work at +dusk singing. They are like little children or animals in their utter inability +to grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day in God’s +sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and ready for rest and +not much inclined to find fault with your lot. I have not yet persuaded myself, +however, that the women are happy. They have to work as hard as the men and get +less for it; they have to produce offspring, quite regardless of times and +seasons and the general fitness of things; they have to do this as +expeditiously as possible, so that they may not unduly interrupt the work in +hand; nobody helps them, notices them, or cares about them, least of all the +husband. It is quite a usual thing to see them working in the fields in the +morning, and working again in the afternoon, having in the interval produced a +baby. The baby is left to an old woman whose duty it is to look after babies +collectively. When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man of Wrath +informed me that they did not suffer because they had never worn corsets, nor +had their mothers and grandmothers. We were riding together at the time, and +had just passed a batch of workers, and my husband was speaking to the +overseer, when a woman arrived alone, and taking up a spade, began to dig. She +grinned cheerfully at us as she made a curtesy, and the overseer remarked that +she had just been back to the house and had a baby. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor, <i>poor</i> woman!” I cried, as we rode on, feeling for some occult +reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. “And her wretched husband doesn’t care +a rap, and will probably beat her to-night if his supper isn’t right. What +nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes when the women have the +babies!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, my dear,” replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. “You +have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing this agreeable +duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any serious competition +with man. How can a person who is constantly losing a year of the best part of +her life compete with a young man who never loses any time at all? He has the +brute force, and his last word on any subject could always be his fist.” +</p> + +<p> +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning of November, and +the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses’ feet as we rode towards +the Hirschwald. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a universal custom,” proceeded the Man of Wrath, “amongst these +Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes everywhere, and certainly +commendable on the score of simplicity, to silence a woman’s objections and +aspirations by knocking her down. I have heard it said that this apparently +brutal action has anything but the maddening effect tenderly nurtured persons +might suppose, and that the patient is soothed and satisfied with a rapidity +and completeness unattainable by other and more polite methods. Do you +suppose,” he went on, flicking a twig off a tree with his whip as we passed, +“that the intellectual husband, wrestling intellectually with the chaotic +yearnings of his intellectual wife, ever achieves the result aimed at? He may +and does go on wrestling till he is tired, but never does he in the very least +convince her of her folly; while his brother in the ragged coat has got through +the whole business in less time than it takes me to speak about it. There is no +doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far more thoroughly than the +women in our class, and, as the truest: happiness consists in finding one’s +vocation quickly and continuing in it all one’s days, I consider they are to be +envied rather than not, since they are early taught, by the impossibility of +argument with marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour and the +blessings of content.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray go on,” I said politely. +</p> + +<p> +“These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all praise, and +far from considering themselves insulted, admire the strength and energy of the +man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. In Russia, not only <i>may</i> a +man beat his wife, but it is laid down in the catechism and taught all boys at +the time of confirmation as necessary at least once a week, whether she has +done anything or not, for the sake of her general health and happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat over these +castigations. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, my dear man,” I said, pointing with my whip, “look at that baby moon so +innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind that silver +birch; and don’t talk so much about women and things you don’t understand. What +is the use of your bothering about fists and whips and muscles and all the +dreadful things invented for the confusion of obstreperous wives? You know you +are a civilised husband, and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased +to be a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a civilised wife?” he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me and +putting his arm round my waist, “has she ceased to be a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think so indeed,—she is a goddess, and can never be worshipped and +adored enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” he said, “that the conversation is growing personal.” +</p> + +<p> +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. The Hirschwald is an +enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie low on the turf, and +overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver birches stand out clear +against the soft sky, while the little moon looks down kindly on the damp +November world. Where the trees thicken into a wood, the fragrance of the wet +earth and rotting leaves kicked up by the horses’ hoofs fills my soul with +delight. I particularly love that smell,—it brings before me the entire +benevolence of Nature, for ever working death and decay, so piteous in +themselves, into the means of fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours +as she works. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 7<i>th</i>.—I have been to England. I went for at least a month +and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. Twice I fled +before the fogs into the country to see friends with gardens, but it was +raining, and except the beautiful lawns (not to be had in the Fatherland) and +the infinite possibilities, there was nothing to interest the intelligent and +garden-loving foreigner, for the good reason that you cannot be interested in +gardens under an umbrella. So I went back to the fogs, and after groping about +for a few days more began to long inordinately for Germany. A terrific gale +sprang up after I had started, and the journey both by sea and land was full of +horrors, the trains in Germany being heated to such an extent that it is next +to impossible to sit still, great gusts of hot air coming up under the +cushions, the cushions themselves being very hot, and the wretched traveller +still hotter. +</p> + +<p> +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, brightest +snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed to be listening, +the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot and on the trees, and a +happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, I was consoled for all my +torments, only remembering them enough to wonder why I had gone away at all. +</p> + +<p> +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant bouquet of pine needles +and grass in the other, and what with the due presentation of the bouquets and +the struggles of the kittens, the hugging and kissing was much interfered with. +Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all somehow squeezed into the sleigh, and +off we went with jingling bells and shrieks of delight. “Directly you comes +home the fun begins,” said the May baby, sitting very close to me. “How the +snow purrs!” cried the April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their +feet. The June baby sat loudly singing “The King of Love my Shepherd is,” and +swinging her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode of peace, and I ran +through all the rooms, eager to take possession of them again, and feeling as +though I had been away for ever. When I got to the library I came to a +standstill,—ah, the dear room, what happy times I have spent in it rummaging +amongst the books, making plans for my garden, building castles in the air, +writing, dreaming, doing nothing! There was a big peat fire blazing half up the +chimney, and the old housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, and on the +writing-table was a great bunch of violets scenting the room. “Oh, how +<i>good</i> it is to be home again!” I sighed in my satisfaction. The babies +clung about my knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. Outside the +dazzling snow and sunshine, inside the bright room and happy faces—I thought of +those yellow fogs and shivered. The library is not used by the Man of Wrath; it +is neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour before he +disappears into his own rooms—a series of very smoky dens in the southeast +corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, rather too gay for an ideal +library; and its colouring, white and yellow, is so cheerful as to be almost +frivolous. There are white bookcases all round the walls, and there is a great +fireplace, and four windows, facing full south, opening on to my most cherished +bit of garden, the bit round the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such +a big fire and such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, in +spite of the venerable volumes filling the shelves. Indeed, I should never be +surprised if they skipped down from their places, and, picking up their leaves, +began to dance. +</p> + +<p> +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity to being +snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go into the garden in +its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. The first breath on +opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes me gasp, and I feel a black +and sinful object in the midst of all the spotlessness. Yesterday I sat out of +doors near the sun-dial the whole afternoon, with the thermometer so many +degrees below freezing that it will be weeks finding its way up again; but +there was no wind, and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. I +even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, and sat +till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. I had to drink the +tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination to begin to freeze. After +the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their nests in the garden with a +great fuss and fluttering, and many hesitations and squabbles before they +settled on their respective trees. They flew over my head in hundreds with a +mighty swish of wings, and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an +intense hush fell upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas +card, with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, and +lamplight shining in the windows. +</p> + +<p> +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, in the intervals +between looking round me and being happy. He came one day with the book and +begged me to read it, having discovered that my interest in Luther was not as +living as it ought to be; so I took it out with me into the garden, because the +dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as +bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under +a tree. I read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at +the garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. His struggles with +devils amazed me; and I wondered whether such a day as that, full of grace and +the forgiveness of sins, never struck him as something to make him relent even +towards devils. He apparently never allowed himself just to be happy. He was a +wonderful man, but I am glad I was not his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts to improve +himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare moment, and +there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one hand and holds a +Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, of course, getting the greater share +of her attention. To most German <i>Hausfraus</i> the dinners and the puddings +are of paramount importance, and they pride themselves on keeping those parts +of their houses that are seen in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, +and this is exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, are there +not other things even more important? And is not plain living and high thinking +better than the other way about? And all too careful making of dinners and +dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious time, and—and with +shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the grammar. It +cannot be right to be the slave of one’s household gods, and I protest that if +my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted when I wanted to be doing +something else, and there was no one to do the dusting for me, I would cast it +all into the nearest bonfire and sit and warm my toes at the flames with great +contentment, triumphantly selling my dusters to the very next pedlar who was +weak enough to buy them. Parsons’ wives have to do the housework and cooking +themselves, and are thus not only cooks and housemaids, but if they have +children—and they always do have children—they are head and under nurse as +well; and besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit +and vegetable garden, and everything to do with their poultry. This being so, +is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling to learn languages +and keep up with her husband? If I were that husband, those puddings would +taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin sauce. They are both severely +pious, and are for ever engaged in desperate efforts to practise what they +preach; than which, as we all know, nothing is more difficult. He works in his +parish with the most noble self-devotion, and never loses courage, although his +efforts have been several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the +street-corners, thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden wall. +The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a sensitive, +intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before swine. For years he has +gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most living faith and hope and charity, +and I sometimes wonder whether they are any better now in his parish than they +were under his predecessor, a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning +to Saturday night, never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty +congregation waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial +nap. It is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave the parish +to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never seems discouraged, and goes +on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when all his tastes +are literary, and all his inclinations towards the life of the student. His +convictions drag him out of his little home at all hours to minister to the +sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no rest, and never let him feel he +has done enough; and when he comes home weary, after a day’s wrestling with his +parishioners’ souls, he is confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up +on his own front door. He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be +hid? Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, and +what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the most +astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, roomy cottage, and a good +bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. His predecessor used to hang out his +washing on the tombstones to dry, but then he was a person entirely lost to all +sense of decency, and had finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon of +a most vituperative description, and hurling invective at the Man of Wrath, who +sat up in his box drinking in every word and enjoying himself thoroughly. The +Man of Wrath likes novelty, and such a sermon had never been heard before. It +is spoken of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 22<i>nd</i>.—Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. Clear +skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch now and then, very few +really cold days. My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies of the valley; +and though, as I have said, I don’t admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring +when it seems wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers, I am +glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness. In December one +cannot afford to be fastidious; besides, one is actually less fastidious about +everything in the winter. The keen air braces soul as well as body into +robustness, and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly +welcome then. +</p> + +<p> +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have often locked myself up in a +room alone, shutting out my unfinished duties, to study the flower catalogues +and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the spring. It is a +fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional charm when you know you +ought to be doing something else, that Christmas is at the door, that children +and servants and farm hands depend on you for their pleasure, and that, if you +don’t see to the decoration of the trees and house, and the buying of the +presents, nobody else will. The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and +with Duty snarling on the other side of the door. I don’t like Duty—everything +in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one’s duty. Why cannot it be my +duty to make lists and plans for the dear garden? “And so it <i>is</i>,” I +insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he protested against what he called wasting +my time upstairs. “No,” he replied sagely; “your garden is not your duty, +because it is your Pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly at my disposal! +Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given to have a sage, and the +combination of both is as rare as it is useful. Indeed, in its practical +utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it is a sofa my neighbour has bought +as a Christmas surprise for her husband, and which she showed me the last time +I called there—a beautiful invention, as she explained, combining a bedstead, a +sofa, and a chest of drawers, and into which you put your clothes, and on top +of which you put yourself, and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and +you happen to be using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the +bedclothes inside, and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa and +looking for all the world as though you had been expecting visitors for hours. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, does he wear pyjamas?” I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +But she had never heard of pyjamas. +</p> + +<p> +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. I want to have a border all +yellow, every shade of yellow from fieriest orange to nearly white, and the +amount of work and studying of gardening books it costs me will only be +appreciated by beginners like myself. I have been weeks planning it, and it is +not nearly finished. I want it to be a succession of glories from May till the +frosts, and the chief feature is to be the number of “ardent marigolds”—flowers +that I very tenderly love—and nasturtiums. The nasturtiums are to be of every +sort and shade, and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show their +lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. Then there are to be +eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, yellow +violas, yellow stocks, yellow sweet-peas, yellow lupins—everything that is +yellow or that has a yellow variety. The place I have chosen for it is a long, +wide border in the sun, at the foot of a grassy slope crowned with lilacs and +pines, and facing southeast. You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a +corner, are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. I want it +to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, cool path through the wood. +</p> + +<p> +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon the probable +difference between the idea and its realisation. I am ignorant, and the +gardener is, I do believe, still more so; for he was forcing some tulips, and +they have all shrivelled up and died, and he says he cannot imagine why. +Besides, he is in love with the cook, and is going to marry her after +Christmas, and refuses to enter into any of my plans with the enthusiasm they +deserve, but sits with vacant eye dreamily chopping wood from morning till +night to keep the beloved one’s kitchen fire well supplied. I cannot understand +any one preferring cooks to marigolds; those future marigolds, shadowy as they +are, and whose seeds are still sleeping at the seedsman’s, have shone through +my winter days like golden lamps. +</p> + +<p> +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first thing I should +do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I should have the +delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands and need not waste +time explaining what I want done to somebody else. It is dull work giving +orders and trying to describe the bright visions of one’s brain to a person who +has no visions and no brain, and who thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias +edged with blue. +</p> + +<p> +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those humble +ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my soil is by no +means all that it might be, and to most plants the climate is rather trying. I +feel really grateful to any flower that is sturdy and willing enough to +flourish here. Pansies seem to like the place and so do sweet-peas; pinks +don’t, and after much coaxing gave hardly any flowers last summer. Nearly all +the roses were a success, in spite of the sandy soil, except the tea-rose Adam, +which was covered with buds ready to open, when they suddenly turned brown and +died, and three standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. I +had been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description in the catalogues being +specially fascinating, and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I got. “Never be +excited, my dears, about <i>anything</i>,” shall be the advice I will give the +three babies when the time comes to take them out to parties, “or, if you are, +don’t show it. If by nature you are volcanoes, at least be only smouldering +ones. Don’t look pleased, don’t look interested, don’t, above all things, look +eager. Calm indifference should be written on every feature of your faces. +Never show that you like any one person, or any one thing. Be cool, languid, +and reserved. If you don’t do as your mother tells you and are just gushing, +frisky, young idiots, snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you’ll marry princes and live happily ever after.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of the world the more you are +pleased to see a person the less is he pleased to see you; whereas, if you are +disagreeable, he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance expanding into +wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. But I was not prepared +for that sort of thing in a rose, and was disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the +best place in the garden—warm, sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared +with the tenderest care; he was given the most dainty mixture of compost, clay, +and manure; he was watered assiduously all through the drought when more +willing flowers got nothing; and he refused to do anything but look black and +shrivel. He did not die, but neither did he live—he just existed; and at the +end of the summer not one of him had a scrap more shoot or leaf than when he +was first put in in April. It would have been better if he had died straight +away, for then I should have known what to do; as it is, there he is still +occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully for the winter, excluding kinder +roses, and probably intending to repeat the same conduct next year. Well, +trials are the portion of mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any +case it is better to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that with plants +you know that it is you who are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the +other way about—and who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured +innocence, and known them to be grievous? +</p> + +<p> +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing to provoke such +an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy little Christmas alone +with the Man of Wrath and the babies. Fate decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, +if I look forward to anything, Fate steps in and decrees otherwise; I don’t +know why it should, but it does. I had not even invited these good ladies—like +greatness on the modest, they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet +singer of the summer, whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly +thought I had seen the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I +would have her over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she didn’t +like him in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, full of sympathy, +I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other is Minora. +</p> + +<p> +Why I have to have Minora I don’t know, for I was not even aware of her +existence a fortnight ago. Then coming down cheerfully one morning to +breakfast—it was the very day after my return from England—I found a letter +from an English friend, who up till then had been perfectly innocuous, asking +me to befriend Minora. I read the letter aloud for the benefit of the Man of +Wrath, who was eating <i>Spickgans</i>, a delicacy much sought after in these +parts. “Do, my dear Elizabeth,” wrote my friend, “take some notice of the poor +thing. She is studying art in Dresden, and has nowhere literally to go for +Christmas. She is very ambitious and hardworking—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” interrupted the Man of Wrath, “she is not pretty. Only ugly girls work +hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“—and she is really very clever—” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid,” again interrupted the Man of +Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“—and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity on her she will be +very lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let her be lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to think that +her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a season.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not mind the distress of the mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear me,” I exclaimed impatiently, “I shall have to ask her to come!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you <i>should</i> be inclined,” the letter went on, “to play the good +Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would find Minora a bright, +intelligent companion—” +</p> + +<p> +“Minora?” questioned the Man of Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether alarmingly +zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, looked up from her +bread and milk. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds like islands,” she remarked pensively. +</p> + +<p> +The governess coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark,” explained her pupil. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at her severely. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are not careful, April,” I said, “you’ll be a genius when you grow up +and disgrace your parents.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. I am afraid she despises +us because she thinks we are foreigners—an attitude of mind quite British and +wholly to her credit; but we, on the other hand, regard <i>her</i> as a +foreigner, which, of course, makes things complicated. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I really have to have this strange girl?” I asked, addressing nobody in +particular and not expecting a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You need not have her,” said the Man of Wrath composedly, “but you will. You +will write to-day and cordially invite her, and when she has been here +twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. I know you, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually scenting a scene, and is +always ready to bring whole batteries of discretion and tact and good taste to +bear on us, and seems to know we are disputing in an unseemly manner when we +would never dream it ourselves but for the warning of her downcast eyes. I +would take my courage in both hands and ask her to go, for besides this +superfluity of discreet behaviour she is, although only nursery, much too +zealous, and inclined to be always teaching and never playing; but, +unfortunately, the April baby adores her and is sure there never was any one so +beautiful before. She comes every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of +her wardrobe, and feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; and Miss +Jones looks offended and purses up her lips. In common with most governesses, +she has a little dark down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared one +day at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, having achieved it +after much struggling, with the aid of a lead pencil and unbounded love. Miss +Jones put her in the corner for impertinence. I wonder why governesses are so +unpleasant. The Man of Wrath says it is because they are not married. Without +venturing to differ entirely from the opinion of experience, I would add that +the strain of continually having to set an example must surely be very great. +It is much easier, and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, +and governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, and when you +want to be foolish it must be annoying to have to be wise. +</p> + +<p> +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, when the carriage drove +up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed me that there was a strange girl on +a bicycle a little way behind. I sent back the carriage to pick her up, for it +was dusk and the roads are terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you have strange girls here at all?” asked Irais rather peevishly, +taking off her hat in the library before the fire, and otherwise making herself +very much at home; “I don’t like them. I’m not sure that they’re not worse than +husbands who are out of order. Who is she? She would bicycle from the station, +and is, I am sure, the first woman who has done it. The little boys threw +stones at her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. Never mind her. +Let us have tea in peace before she comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we should be much happier without her,” she grumbled. “Weren’t we happy +enough in the summer, Elizabeth—just you and I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed we were,” I answered heartily, putting my arms round her. The +flame of my affection for Irais burns very brightly on the day of her arrival; +besides, this time I have prudently provided against her sinning with the +salt-cellars by ordering them to be handed round like vegetable dishes. We had +finished tea and she had gone up to her room to dress before Minora and her +bicycle were got here. I hurried out to meet her, feeling sorry for her, +plunged into a circle of strangers at such a very personal season as Christmas. +But she was not very shy; indeed, she was less shy than I was, and lingered in +the hall, giving the servants directions to wipe the snow off the tyres of her +machine before she lent an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t make your man understand me at the station,” she said at last, when +her mind was at rest about her bicycle; “I asked him how far it was, and what +the roads were like, and he only smiled. Is he German? But of course he is—how +odd that he didn’t understand. You speak English very well,—very well indeed, +do you know.” By this time we were in the library, and she stood on the +hearth-rug warming her back while I poured her out some tea. +</p> + +<p> +“What a quaint room,” she remarked, looking round, “and the hall is so curious +too. Very old, isn’t it? There’s a lot of copy here.” +</p> + +<p> +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival and had come in with +us, began to look about on the carpet. “Copy?” he inquired, “Where’s copy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—material, you know, for a book. I’m just jotting down what strikes me in +your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book form.” She spoke +very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room and shut +the door and Minora was safely in hers, “what do you think—she writes books!” +</p> + +<p> +“What—the bicycling girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—Minora—imagine it!” +</p> + +<p> +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful!” murmured Irais. “I never met a young girl who did that before.” +</p> + +<p> +“She says this place is full of copy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Full of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what you make books with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is always a bore +among good friends, but one can generally manage her. But a girl who writes +books—why, it isn’t respectable! And you can’t snub that sort of people; +they’re unsnubbable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but we’ll try!” I cried, with such heartiness that we both laughed. +</p> + +<p> +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she lingered so long after +dinner in the hall, which is cold, that the Man of Wrath put on his fur coat by +way of a gentle hint. His hints are always gentle. +</p> + +<p> +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and the nuns and Gustavus +Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book began to take down what I said. I at +once relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you’ve only just begun.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t go any further. Won’t you come into the library?” +</p> + +<p> +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire and warmed herself, +and we sat in a row and were cold. She has a wonderfully good profile, which is +irritating. The wind, however, is tempered to the shorn lamb by her eyes being +set too closely together. +</p> + +<p> +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, contemplated her +critically beneath her long eyelashes. “You are writing a book?” she asked +presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, you know, of +your country. Anything that strikes me as curious or amusing—I jot it down, and +when I have time shall work it up into something, I daresay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not studying painting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I can’t study that for ever. We have an English proverb: ‘Life is +short and Art is long’—too long, I sometimes think—and writing is a great +relaxation when I am tired.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall you call it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I thought of calling it <i>Journeyings in Germany</i>. It sounds well, and +would be correct. Or <i>Jottings from German Journeyings</i>,—I haven’t quite +decided yet which.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the author of <i>Prowls in Pomerania</i>, you might add,” suggested Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>Drivel from Dresden</i>,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>Bosh from Berlin</i>,” added Irais. +</p> + +<p> +Minora stared. “I don’t think those two last ones would do,” she said, “because +it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is rather a good title,” +she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her note-book. “I think I’ll just +jot that down.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your book?” +asked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. +</p> + +<p> +“And have <i>you</i> no suggestions to make, Sage?” asked Irais, turning to the +Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you call him Sage?” cried Minora; “and always in English?” +</p> + +<p> +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and were afraid +Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her note-book. The Man of +Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded to under his very nose by our +new guest as “him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Husbands are always sages,” said I gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Though sages are not always husbands,” said Irais with equal gravity. “Sages +and husbands—sage and husbands—” she went on musingly, “what does that remind +you of, Miss Minora?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know,—how stupid of me!” cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in mid-air and +her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, “sage and,—why,—yes,—no,—yes, +of course—oh,” disappointedly, “but that’s vulgar—I can’t put it in.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is vulgar?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“She thinks sage and onions is vulgar,” said Irais languidly; “but it isn’t, it +is very good.” She got up and walked to the piano, and, sitting down, began, +after a little wandering over the keys, to sing. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you play?” I asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice.” +</p> + +<p> +I said no more. I know what <i>that</i> sort of playing is. +</p> + +<p> +When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to speak in an +unknown tongue. We stared. “What is the matter with her?” murmured Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought, perhaps,” said Minora in English, “you might prefer to talk German, +and as it is all the same to me what I talk—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Irais. “We like airing our English—don’t we, +Elizabeth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want my German to get rusty though,” said Minora; “I shouldn’t like to +forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but isn’t there an English song,” said Irais, twisting round her neck as +she preceded us upstairs, “‘’Tis folly to remember, ’tis wisdom to forget’?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope,” I said hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“What room is she in?” asked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“No. 12.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!—do you believe in ghosts?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What nonsense,” said I; “we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you want +anything, mind you ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if you see anything curious in that room,” called Irais from her bedroom +door, “mind you jot it down.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 27<i>th</i>—It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas +as a bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are invited to +over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just cause. As a matter of +fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic institutions possible, if +observed in the proper manner, and after having been more or less unpleasant to +everybody for a whole year, it is a blessing to be forced on that one day to be +amiable, and it is certainly delightful to be able to give presents without +being haunted by the conviction that you are spoiling the recipient, and will +suffer for it afterward. Servants are only big children, and are made just as +happy as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, for days +beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden they expect to meet +the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They firmly believe that it is +thus their presents are brought, and it is such a charming idea that Christmas +would be worth celebrating for its sake alone. +</p> + +<p> +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve entirely on me, and it +is not very easy work, with so many people in our own house and on each of the +farms, and all the children, big and little, expecting their share of +happiness. The library is uninhabitable for several days before and after, as +it is there that we have the trees and presents. All down one side are the +trees, and the other three sides are lined with tables, a separate one for each +person in the house. When the trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance +shining down on the happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, and the +number of times I have had to run up and down stairs, and the various aches in +head and feet, and enjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby is +ushered in, then the others and ourselves according to age, then the servants, +then come the head inspector and his family, the other inspectors from the +different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and secretaries, and then all +the children, troops and troops of them—the big ones leading the little ones by +the hand and carrying the babies in their arms, and the mothers peeping round +the door. As many as can get in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or +three carols; then they are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, +making room for the next batch. My three babies sang lustily too, whether they +happened to know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses in +honour of the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed in a low-necked and +short-sleeved garment, after the manner of Teutonic infants, whatever the state +of the thermometer. Her arms are like miniature prize-fighter’s arms—I never +saw such things; they are the pride and joy of her little nurse, who had tied +them up with blue ribbons, and kept on kissing them. I shall certainly not be +able to take her to balls when she grows up, if she goes on having arms like +that. +</p> + +<p> +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. The +April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, which she said she +was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but because she was so sorry for +him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me absently, and went away, only the +April baby glancing at the trees as she passed and making them a curtesy. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, trees,” I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese doll bow to +them, which he did, in a very languid and blasé fashion. “<i>You’ll</i> never +see such trees again,” she told him, giving him a vindictive shake, “for you’ll +be brokened <i>long</i> before next time.” +</p> + +<p> +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank the <i>Christkind</i> so <i>much</i>, Mummy, won’t you, for all the +lovely things He brought us. I suppose you’re writing to Him now, isn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, and we were +perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least two days it +brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. Happiness is so +wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety far more effectually than any +amount of trials and griefs, and an unexpected pleasure is the surest means of +bringing me to my knees. In spite of the protestations of some peculiarly +constructed persons that they are the better for trials, I don’t believe it. +Such things must sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, and make us +kinder, and more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it behoves us to be more +thankful for trials than for blessings? We were meant to be happy, and to +accept all the happiness offered with thankfulness—indeed, we are none of us +ever thankful enough, and yet we each get so much, so very much, more than we +deserve. I know a woman—she stayed with me last summer—who rejoices grimly when +those she loves suffer. She believes that it is our lot, and that it braces us +and does us good, and she would shield no one from even unnecessary pain; she +weeps with the sufferer, but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her +continue in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the beauty and +the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire to possess one; her +convictions have the sad gray colouring of the dingy streets and houses she +lives amongst—the sad colour of humanity in masses. Submission to what people +call their “lot” is simply ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, +get rid of it and take another; strike out for yourself; don’t listen to the +shrieks of your relations, to their gibes or their entreaties; don’t let your +own microscopic set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don’t be afraid +of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next house, when all the +world is before you new and shining, and everything is possible, if you will +only be energetic and independent and seize opportunity by the scruff of the +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“To hear you talk,” said Irais, “no one would ever imagine that you dream away +your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in your life seized +anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is scruff? I hope I have not got +any on me.” And she craned her neck before the glass. +</p> + +<p> +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon Irais +wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a book; so I called +in Miss Jones and the babies—it was Miss Jones’s last public appearance, as I +shall relate—and after working for the best part of two days they were +finished, and looked like lovely ladies in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, +holding up their skirts with glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long +description of them for a chapter of her book which is headed <i>Noel</i>,—I +saw that much, because she left it open on the table while she went to talk to +Miss Jones. They were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said +to be natural to take to one’s own countrymen, I am unable altogether to +sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what they talk about?” I said to Irais yesterday, when there was no +getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in conversation with +Miss Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think they are +clever, and then they talk rubbish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your +governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine she must +have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can’t hear that every day. What +is the matter with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think she feels quite as proper as she looks,” I said doubtfully; I +was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones’s expression. +</p> + +<p> +“But that must be rather nice,” said Irais. “It would be awful for her if she +felt exactly the same as she looks.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, and the +April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, leaving the door +open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be terrible. +Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have continually to pose +before their flock as such. As for governesses, Miss Minora, I know what I am +saying when I affirm that there is nothing more intolerable than to have to be +polite, and even humble, to persons whose weaknesses and follies are glaringly +apparent in every word they utter, and to be forced by the presence of children +and employers to a dignity of manner in no way corresponding to one’s feelings. +The grave father of a family, who was probably one of the least respectable of +bachelors, is an interesting study at his own table, where he is constrained to +assume airs of infallibility merely because his children are looking at him. +The fact of his being a parent does not endow him with any supreme and sudden +virtue; and I can assure you that among the eyes fixed upon him, not the least +critical and amused are those of the humble person who fills the post of +governess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!” we heard Minora say in accents of rapture, while +we sat transfixed with horror at these sentiments. “Do you mind if I put that +down in my book? You say it all so beautifully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a few hours of relaxation,” continued Miss Jones, “of private +indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed in public, who could wade +through days of correct behaviour? There would be no reaction, no room for +better impulses, no place for repentance. Parents, priests, and governesses +would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a quiet moment in which +she can take off her corsets.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, what a firebrand!” whispered Irais. I got up and went in. They were +sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing admiringly into Miss +Jones’s face, which wore a very different expression from the one of sour and +unwilling propriety I have been used to seeing. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask you to come to tea?” I said to Minora. “And I should like to have +the children a little while.” +</p> + +<p> +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door open until she had gone +in and the two babies had followed. They had been playing at stuffing each +other’s ears with pieces of newspaper while Miss Jones provided Minora with +noble thoughts for her work, and had to be tortured afterward with tweezers. I +said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us till dinner-time, and this morning +we went for a long sleigh-drive. When we came in to lunch there was no Miss +Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Miss Jones ill?” asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“She is gone,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?” asked Irais blandly; and +we talked resolutely of something else. +</p> + +<p> +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, and it has +been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often are. It is +enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, poor thing, that she should +have preferred the society of a Miss Jones to that of Irais and myself. +</p> + +<p> +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. “You look so pale,” she +said; “are you not well?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one who likes to be +thought a sufferer. “I have a slight headache,” she replied gently. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not going to be ill,” said Irais with great concern, “because +there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means well, I believe +he is rather rough.” Minora was plainly startled. “But what do you do if you +are ill?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we are never ill,” said I; “the very knowledge that there would be no one +to cure us seems to keep us healthy.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if any one takes to her bed,” said Irais, “Elizabeth always calls in the +cow-doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part of the +world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised creature +besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. Whatever her +reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 1<i>st</i>.—The service on New Year’s Eve is the only one in the +whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and then the +very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial produce an effect +that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. Last night we took Irais +and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, +and blowing great guns. We sat wrapped up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a +funeral procession. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to the burial of our last year’s sins,” said Irais, as we +started; and there certainly was a funereal sort of feeling in the air. Up in +our gallery pew we tried to decipher our chorales by the light of the +spluttering tallow candles stuck in holes in the woodwork, the flames wildly +blown about by the draughts. The wind banged against the windows in great +gusts, screaming louder than the organ, and threatening to blow out the +agitated lights together. The parson in his gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a +framework of dusty carved angels, took on an awful appearance of menacing +Authority as he raised his voice to make himself heard above the clatter. +Sitting there in the dark, I felt very small, and solitary, and defenceless, +alone in a great, big, black world. The church was as cold as a tomb; some of +the candles guttered and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke of death +and judgment; I thought I heard a child’s voice screaming, and could hardly +believe it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; all my +faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I should +probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise idea. If it had not +been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so despairingly, I should have +paid little attention to the threats issuing from the pulpit; but, as it was, I +fell to making good resolutions. This is always a bad sign,—only those who +break them make them; and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is +right as it comes, any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely +superfluous. I have for some years past left off making them on New Year’s Eve, +and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing so last night; for I +have long since discovered that, though the year and the resolutions may be +new, I myself am not, and it is worse than useless putting new wine into old +bottles. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am not an old bottle,” said Irais indignantly, when I held forth to her +to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored to all my +philosophy by the warmth and light, “and I find my resolutions carry me very +nicely into the spring. I revise them at the end of each month, and strike out +the unnecessary ones. By the end of April they have been so severely revised +that there are none left.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new contents +would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, and the practice +of your resolutions would lose its bitterness by becoming a habit.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. “Such things never lose their bitterness,” she said, “and +that is why I don’t let them cling to me right into the summer. When May comes, +I give myself up to jollity with all the rest of the world, and am too busy +being happy to bother about anything I may have resolved when the days were +cold and dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is just why I love you,” I thought. She often says what I feel. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” she went on after a pause, “whether men ever make resolutions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. It is a nice sort +of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, giving way to endless grief and +penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes in contrition; but it is silly. +Why cry over things that are done? Why do naughty things at all, if you are +going to repent afterward? Nobody is naughty unless they like being naughty; +and nobody ever really repents unless they are afraid they are going to be +found out.” +</p> + +<p> +“By ‘nobody’ of course you mean women,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the courage +of their opinions.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais in the amiably polite tone +she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. +</p> + +<p> +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting round the fire, waiting +for the New Year, and sipping <i>Glühwein</i>, prepared at a small table by the +Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, and rather nasty, but it is proper to +drink it on this one night, so of course we did. +</p> + +<p> +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon discovered that, and +laugh about it when we are alone together. I can understand her disliking +Irais, but she must be a perverse creature not to like me. Irais has poked fun +at her, and I have been, I hope, very kind; yet we are bracketed together in +her black books. It is also apparent that she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an +interesting example of an ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is +disposed to take him under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against +us. He never speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, as far +as Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, and sits sphinx-like +and impenetrable while she takes us to task about some remark of a profane +nature that we may have addressed to him. One night, some days after her +arrival, she developed a skittishness of manner which has since disappeared, +and tried to be playful with him; but you might as well try to be playful with +a graven image. The wife of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the +first after a series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health of +all parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink a glass +off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. Minora thought +the incident typical of German manners, and not only made notes about it, but +joined heartily in the health-drinking, and afterward grew skittish. +</p> + +<p> +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the Washington +Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England; and, to induce us to +learn, she played the tune to us on the piano. We remained untouched by its +beauties, each buried in an easy-chair toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst +those toes were those of the Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and +smoking. Minora volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, +danced solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look, +and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve to be +placed in Minora’s list of disagreeable people side by side with Irais? +Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. +</p> + +<p> +“It wants the music, of course,” observed Minora breathlessly, darting in and +out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing at the Man of +Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +No answer from anybody. +</p> + +<p> +“It is <i>such</i> a pretty dance,” she panted again, after a few more +gyrations. +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“And is all the rage at home.” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Do let me teach you. Won’t <i>you</i> try, Herr Sage?” +</p> + +<p> +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she always +addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to every one else, +that he resents it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh come, put away that tiresome old book,” she went on gaily, as he did not +move; “I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that you just nod +over. Dancing is much better for you.” Irais and I looked at one another quite +frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the unhappy girl actually laid +hold forcibly of his book, and, with a playful little shriek, ran away with it +into the next room, hugging it to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her +shoulder at him as she ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our +eyes. Then the Man of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of +his cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his own +rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, I must say, +been skittish since. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais, “because this sort of +conversation is likely to do you good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I always listen when people talk sensibly,” replied Minora, stirring her grog. +</p> + +<p> +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. “Do you agree with our +hostess’s description of women?” she asked after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“As nobodies? No, of course I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally nobodies in our +country. Did you know that women are forbidden to go to political meetings +here?”</p> + +<p>“Really?” Out came the note-book. +</p> + +<p> +“The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings of women, children, +and idiots.” +</p> + +<p> +“Children and idiots—I understand that,” said Minora; “but women—and classed +with children and idiots?” +</p> + +<p> +“Classed with children and idiots,” repeated Irais, gravely nodding her head. +“Did you know that the law forbids females of any age to ride on the top of +omnibuses or tramcars?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps catch a +glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what—” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t see how a stocking—” +</p> + +<p> +“With stripes round it,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And darns in it,” I added. +</p> + +<p> +“—could possibly be pernicious?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,’” said +Irais. “Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never know,” complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, “whether you are +in earnest or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you?” said Irais sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true,” appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons in the +background, “that your law classes women with children and idiots?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he answered promptly, “and a very proper classification, too.” +</p> + +<p> +We all looked blank. “That’s rude,” said I at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Truth is always rude, my dear,” he replied complacently. Then he added, “If I +were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had previously enjoyed the +privilege, as I have been doing lately, of listening to the conversation of you +three young ladies, I should make precisely the same classification.” +</p> + +<p> +Even Minora was incensed at this. +</p> + +<p> +“You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we are idiots,” said +Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,—nice little agreeable children. I +very much like to hear you talk together. It is all so young and fresh what you +think and what you believe, and not of the least consequence to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not of the least consequence?” cried Minora. “What we believe is of very great +consequence indeed to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you jeering at our beliefs?” inquired Irais sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb or change your pretty +little beliefs. It is your chief charm that you always believe every-thing. How +desperate would our case be if young ladies only believed facts, and never +accepted another person’s assurance, but preferred the evidence of their own +eyes! They would have no illusions, and a woman without illusions is the +dreariest and most difficult thing to manage possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thing?” protested Irais. +</p> + +<p> +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it from time to time by +holding forth at unnecessary length. He took up his stand now with his back to +the fire, and a glass of <i>Glühwein</i> in his hand. Minora had hardly heard +his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, and sat with her pencil +raised, ready to fix for ever the wisdom that should flow from his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“What would become of poetry if women became so sensible that they turned a +deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? That love does indulge in platitudes +I suppose you will admit.” He looked at Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they all say exactly the same thing,” she acknowledged. +</p> + +<p> +“Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, if the +listener’s want of imagination was such as to enable her only to distinguish +one victim in the picture, and that one herself?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora took that down word for word,—much good may it do her. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused he will die, if his +assurances merely elicit a recommendation to diet himself, and take plenty of +outdoor exercise? Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe +them. Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross that it is an +insult, and men will always be ready to tell the precise number of lies that a +woman is ready to listen to. Who indulges more recklessly in glowing +exaggerations than the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained? He will, like +the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations, display all his talent, +untiringly repeat his sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his +song, like the nightingale’s, immediately ceases, never again to be heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take that down,” murmured Irais aside to Minora—unnecessary advice, for her +pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman’s vanity is so immeasurable that, after having had ninety-nine +object-lessons in the difference between promise and performance and the +emptiness of pretty speeches, the beginning of the hundredth will find her +lending the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence of flattery as she +did on the occasion of the first. What can the exhortations of the +strong-minded sister, who has never had these experiences, do for such a woman? +It is useless to tell her she is man’s victim, that she is his plaything, that +she is cheated, down-trodden, kept under, laughed at, shabbily treated in every +way—that is not a true statement of the case. She is simply the victim of her +own vanity, and against that, against the belief in her own fascinations, +against the very part of herself that gives all the colour to her life, who +shall expect a woman to take up arms?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you so vain, Elizabeth?” inquired Irais with a shocked face, “and had you +lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine before you reached your +final destiny?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose,” I replied, “for nobody ever wanted +me to listen to blandishments.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“I like to hear you talk together about the position of women,” he went on, +“and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly the position they are +fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a better, no power on earth will +be able to keep them out of it. Meanwhile, let me warn you that, as things now +are, only strong-minded women wish to see you the equals of men, and the +strong-minded are invariably plain. The pretty ones would rather see men their +slaves than their equals.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” said Irais, frowning, “that I consider myself strong-minded.” +</p> + +<p> +“And never rise till lunch-time?” +</p> + +<p> +Irais blushed. Although I don’t approve of such conduct, it is very convenient +in more ways than one; I get through my housekeeping undisturbed, and whenever +she is disposed to lecture me, I begin about this habit of hers. Her conscience +must be terribly stricken on the point, for she is by no means as a rule given +to meekness. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman without vanity would be unattackable,” resumed the Man of Wrath. “When +a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, she is led solely by her +own vanity; for in these days of policemen no young woman can be forced against +her will from the path of virtue, and the cries of the injured are never heard +until the destroyer begins to express his penitence for having destroyed. If +his passion could remain at white-heat and he could continue to feed her ear +with the protestations she loves, no principles of piety or virtue would +disturb the happiness of his companion; for a mournful experience teaches that +piety begins only where passion ends, and that principles are strongest where +temptations are most rare.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what has all this to do with us?” I inquired severely. +</p> + +<p> +“You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, and I merely wish to +justify it,” he answered. “Creatures who habitually say <i>yes</i> to +everything a man proposes, when no one can oblige them to say it, and when it +is so often fatal, are plainly not responsible beings.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never say it to you again, my dear man,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“And not only <i>that</i> fatal weakness,” he continued, “but what is there, +candidly, to distinguish you from children? You are older, but not +wiser,—really not so wise, for with years you lose the common sense you had as +children. Have you ever heard a group of women talking reasonably together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—we do!” Irais and I cried in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“It has interested me,” went on the Man of Wrath, “in my idle moments, to +listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little stories they +told of their best friends who were absent, to note the spiteful little digs +they gave their best friends who were present, to watch the utter incredulity +with which they listened to the tale of some other woman’s conquests, the +radiant good faith they displayed in connection with their own, the instant +collapse into boredom, if some topic of so-called general interest, by some +extraordinary chance, were introduced.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have belonged to a particularly nice set,” remarked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And as for politics,” he said, “I have never heard them mentioned among +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Children and idiots are not interested in such things,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“And we are much too frightened of being put in prison,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“In prison?” echoed Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know,” said Irais, turning to her “that if you talk about such +things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” +</p> + +<p> +“But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant nothing but what was +innocent, your words may have suggested something less innocent to the evil +minds of your hearers; and then the law steps in, and calls it <i>dolus +eventualis</i>, and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to prison and +are punished as you deserve to be.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora looked mystified. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them,” said the Man +of Wrath; “they simply do not interest you. Or it may be, that you do not +consider your female friends’ opinions worth listening to, for you certainly +display an astonishing thirst for information when male politicians are +present. I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly in her twenties, sitting a +whole evening drinking in the doubtful wisdom of an elderly political star, +with every appearance of eager interest. He was a bimetallic star, and was +giving her whole pamphletsful of information.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wanted to make up to him for some reason,” said Irais, “and got him to +explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken in. Now which was +the sillier in that case?” +</p> + +<p> +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, beating her foot +impatiently on the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +“She wanted to be thought clever,” said the Man of Wrath. “What puzzled me,” he +went on musingly, “was that she went away apparently as serene and happy as +when she came. The explanation of the principles of bimetallism produce, as a +rule, a contrary effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she hadn’t been listening,” cried Irais, “and your simple star had been +making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Prattle, prattle, simple star,<br> +Bimetallic, <i>wunderbar</i>.<br> +Though you’re given to describe<br> +Woman as a <i>dummes Weib</i>.<br> +You yourself are sillier far,<br> +Prattling, bimetallic star!” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt she had understood very little,” said the Man of Wrath, taking no +notice of this effusion. +</p> + +<p> +“And no doubt the gentleman hadn’t understood much either.” Irais was plainly +irritated. +</p> + +<p> +“Your opinion of woman,” said Minora in a very small voice, “is not a high one. +But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree that no one could take her +place?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are thinking of hospital-nurses,” I said, “I must tell you that I +believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife instead of a strange woman +to nurse him when he is sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being knocked +about, “the sick-room is surely the very place of all others in which a woman’s +gentleness and tact are most valuable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentleness and tact?” repeated the Man of Wrath. “I have never met those +qualities in the professional nurse. According to my experience, she is a +disagreeable person who finds in private nursing exquisite opportunities for +asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate mankind. I know of no +more humiliating position for a man than to be in bed having his feverish brow +soothed by a sprucely-dressed strange woman, bristling with starch and +spotlessness. He would give half his income for his clothes, and probably the +other half if she would leave him alone, and go away altogether. He feels her +superiority through every pore; he never before realised how absolutely +inferior he is; he is abjectly polite, and contemptibly conciliatory; if a +friend comes to see him, he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening +behind the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far more +intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really belongs to him; he has +read of ministering angels and the light touch of a woman’s hand, but the day +on which he can ring for his servant and put on his socks in private fills him +with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt as a homesick schoolboy at +the end of his first term.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora was silent. Irais’s foot was livelier than ever. The Man of Wrath stood +smiling blandly down upon us. You can’t argue with a person so utterly +convinced of his infallibility that he won’t even get angry with you; so we sat +round and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“If,” he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, “you doubt the truth +of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of noble, +self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the rough places on +the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try for yourself, next time +any one in your house is ill, whether the actual fact in any way corresponds to +the picturesque belief. The angel who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in +such a questionable shape, that to the unimaginative she appears merely as an +extremely self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first of all in securing +her personal comfort, much given to complaints about her food and to +helplessness where she should be helpful, possessing an extraordinary capacity +for fancying herself slighted, or not regarded as the superior being she knows +herself to be, morbidly anxious lest the servants should, by some mistake, +treat her with offensive cordiality, pettish if the patient gives more trouble +than she had expected, intensely injured and disagreeable if he is made so +courageous by his wretchedness as to wake her during the night—an act of +desperation of which I was guilty once, and once only. Oh, these good women! +What sane man wants to have to do with angels? And especially do we object to +having them about us when we are sick and sorry, when we feel in every fibre +what poor things we are, and when all our fortitude is needed to enable us to +bear our temporary inferiority patiently, without being forced besides to +assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness towards the angel in the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know you could talk so much, Sage,” said Irais at length. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have women do, then?” asked Minora meekly. Irais began to beat +her foot up and down again,—what did it matter what Men of Wrath would have us +do? “There are not,” continued Minora, blushing, “husbands enough for every +one, and the rest must do something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied the oracle. “Study the art of pleasing by dress and manner +as long as you are of an age to interest us, and above all, let all women, +pretty and plain, married and single, study the art of cookery. If you are an +artist in the kitchen you will always be esteemed.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, has learned to +cook; I seem to have been the only one who was naughty and wouldn’t. +</p> + +<p> +“Only be careful,” he went on, “in studying both arts, never to forget the +great truth that dinner precedes blandishments and not blandishments dinner. A +man must be made comfortable before he will make love to you; and though it is +true that if you offered him a choice between <i>Spickgans</i> and kisses, he +would say he would take both, yet he would invariably begin with the +<i>Spickgans</i>, and allow the kisses to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. “Your cynicism is disgusting,” +I said icily. +</p> + +<p> +“You two are always exceptions to anything I may say,” he said, smiling +amiably. +</p> + +<p> +He stooped and kissed Irais’s hand. She is inordinately vain of her hands, and +says her husband married her for their sake, which I can quite believe. I am +glad they are on her and not on Minora, for if Minora had had them I should +have been annoyed. Minora’s are bony, with chilly-looking knuckles, ignored +nails, and too much wrist. I feel very well disposed towards her when my eye +falls on them. She put one forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed +too. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know,” said Irais, seeing the movement, “that it is the custom here to +kiss women’s hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“But only married women’s,” I added, not desiring her to feel out of it, “never +young girls’.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew it in again. “It is a pretty custom,” she said with a sigh; and +pensively inscribed it in her book. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 15<i>th</i>.—The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last +year’s horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down to +breakfast this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is expensive, I +find, when it has to be paid for out of one’s own private pin-money. The Man of +Wrath does not in the least want roses, or flowering shrubs, or plantations, or +new paths, and therefore, he asks, why should he pay for them? So he does not +and I do, and I have to make up for it by not indulging all too riotously in +new clothes, which is no doubt very chastening. I certainly prefer buying new +rose-trees to new dresses, if I cannot comfortably have both; and I see a time +coming when the passion for my garden will have taken such a hold on me that I +shall not only entirely cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell those that +I already have. The garden is so big that everything has to be bought +wholesale; and I fear I shall not be able to go on much longer with only one +man and a stork, because the more I plant the more there will be to water in +the inevitable drought, and the watering is a serious consideration when it +means going backwards and forwards all day long to a pump near the house, with +a little water-cart. People living in England, in almost perpetual mildness and +moisture, don’t really know what a drought is. If they have some weeks of +cloudless weather, it is generally preceded and followed by good rains; but we +have perhaps an hour’s shower every week, and then comes a month or six weeks’ +drought. The soil is very light, and dries so quickly that, after the heaviest +thunder-shower, I can walk over any of my paths in my thin shoes; and to keep +the garden even moderately damp it should pour with rain regularly every day +for three hours. My only means of getting water is to go to the pump near the +house, or to the little stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little +stream dries up too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times +difficult to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. I possess +one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted with silver birches +in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted between the birches with +flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy—the soil for pines and +acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what love will do—there are more +roses in my garden than any other flower! Next spring the bare places are to be +filled with trees that I have ordered: pines behind the delicate acacias, and +startling mountain-ashes, oaks, copper-beeches, maples, larches, +juniper-trees—was it not Elijah who sat down to rest under a juniper-tree? I +have often wondered how he managed to get under it. It is a compact little +tree, not more than two to three yards high here, and all closely squeezed up +together. Perhaps they grew more aggressively where he was. By the time the +babies have grown old and disagreeable it will be very pretty here, and then +possibly they won’t like it; and, if they have inherited the Man of Wrath’s +indifference to gardens, they will let it run wild and leave it to return to +the state in which I found it. Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to +live in it, or to come to such a lonely place at all, and then of course its +fate is sealed. My only comfort is that husbands don’t flourish in the desert, +and that the three will have to wait a long time before enough are found to go +round. Mothers tell me that it is a dreadful business finding one husband; how +much more painful then to have to look for three at once!—the babies are so +nearly the same age that they only just escaped being twins. But I won’t look. +I can imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, I +don’t think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. I shall do my +best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love the garden, and +out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a spark of their mother in +them, they will want and ask for nothing better. My hope of success is however +exceedingly small, and there is probably a fearful period in store for me when +I shall be taken every day during the winter to the distant towns to balls—a +poor old mother shivering in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made +to start after an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next +morning. Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go to +“partings” as they call them, the April baby announcing her intention of +beginning to do so when she is twelve. “Are <i>you</i> twelve, Mummy?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am trying to find another. +It is grievous changing so often—in two years I shall have had three—because at +each change a great part of my plants and plans necessarily suffers. Seeds get +lost, seedlings are not pricked out in time, places already sown are planted +with something else, and there is confusion out of doors and despair in my +heart. But he was to have married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost and +immediately left, and he is going after her as soon as he can, and meanwhile is +wasting visibly away. What she saw was doors that are locked opening with a +great clatter all by themselves <i>on the hinge-side</i>, and then somebody +invisible cursed at her. These phenomena now go by the name of “the ghost.” She +asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had never been in a place where +there was a ghost before. I suggested that she should try and get used to it; +but she thought it would be wasting time, and she looked so ill that I let her +go, and the garden has to suffer. I don’t know why it should be given to cooks +to see such interesting things and withheld from me, but I have had two others +since she left, and they both have seen the ghost. Minora grows very silent as +bed-time approaches, and relents towards Irais and myself; and, after having +shown us all day how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles are +brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice anxiously inquired +whether Irais is sure she does not object to sleeping alone. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company,” she said; “I +don’t mind at all, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, and has told me she would +rather sleep with fifty ghosts than with one Minora. +</p> + +<p> +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her parent’s bedside I have +seen a good deal of the babies; and it is so nice without a governess that I +would put off engaging another for a year or two, if it were not that I should +in so doing come within the reach of the arm of the law, which is what every +German spends his life in trying to avoid. The April baby will be six next +month, and, after her sixth birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to +receive a visit from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the +state of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, all +sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, probably beginning +with fines, and going on <i>crescendo</i> to dungeons if, owing to gaps between +governesses and difficulties in finding the right one, we persisted in our evil +courses. Shades of the prison-house begin to close here upon the growing boy, +and prisons compass the Teuton about on every side all through life to such an +extent that he has to walk very delicately indeed if he would stay outside them +and pay for their maintenance. Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect +to teach their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, and are apt +to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector into their homes; but it does +not much matter after all, and I daresay it is very good for us to be worried; +indeed, a philosopher of my acquaintance declares that people who are not +regularly and properly worried are never any good for anything. In the eye of +the law we are all sinners, and every man is held to be guilty until he has +proved that he is innocent. +</p> + +<p> +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly trying to get out of +their way for several days, she thought it better to resign herself, and make +the best of it by regarding them as copy, and using them to fill a chapter in +her book. So she took to dogging their footsteps wherever they went, attended +their uprisings and their lyings down, engaged them, if she could, in +intelligent conversation, went with them into the garden to study their ways +when they were sleighing, drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a +burden to them. This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write +the result with the Man of Wrath’s typewriter, borrowed whenever her notes for +any chapter have reached the state of ripeness necessary for the process she +describes as “throwing into form.” She writes everything with a typewriter, +even her private letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget to put in something about a mother’s knee,” said Irais; “you +can’t write effectively about children without that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of course I shall mention that,” replied Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“And pink toes,” I added. “There are always toes, and they are never anything +but pink.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have that somewhere,” said Minora, turning over her notes. +</p> + +<p> +“But, after all, babies are not a German speciality,” said Irais, “and I don’t +quite see why you should bring them into a book of German travels. Elizabeth’s +babies have each got the fashionable number of arms and legs, and are exactly +the same as English ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but they can’t be <i>just</i> the same, you know,” said Minora, looking +worried. “It must make a difference living here in this place, and eating such +odd things, and never having a doctor, and never being ill. Children who have +never had measles and those things can’t be quite the same as other children; +it must all be in their systems and can’t get out for some reason or other. And +a child brought up on chicken and rice-pudding must be different to a child +that eats <i>Spickgans</i> and liver sausages. And they <i>are</i> different; I +can’t tell in what way, but they certainly are; and I think if I steadily +describe them from the materials I have collected the last three days, I may +perhaps hit on the points of difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why bother about points of difference?” asked Irais. “I should write some +little thing, bringing in the usual parts of the picture, such as knees and +toes, and make it mildly pathetic.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do,” said Minora plaintively; “I +have so little experience of children.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why write it at all?” asked that sensible person Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I have as little experience as you,” said Irais, “because I have no children; +but if you don’t yearn after startling originality, nothing is easier than to +write bits about them. I believe I could do a dozen in an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, and scribbled for +about five minutes. “There,” she said, throwing it to Minora, “you may have +it—pink toes and all complete.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at bed-time my stale and +battered soul is filled with awe. All sorts of vague memories crowd into my +mind—memories of my own mother and myself—how many years ago!—of the sweet +helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in her arms, and undressed, and +put in my cot, without being wakened; of the angels I believed in; of little +children coming straight from heaven, and still being surrounded, so long as +they were good, by the shadow of white wings,—all the dear poetic nonsense +learned, just as my baby is learning it, at her mother’s knee. She has not an +idea of the beauty of the charming things she is told, and stares wide-eyed, +with heavenly eyes, while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come +from, and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. At two +years old she does not understand angels, and does understand bread and milk; +at five she has vague notions about them, and prefers bread and milk; at ten +both bread and milk and angels have been left behind in the nursery, and she +has already found out that they are luxuries not necessary to her everyday +life. In later years she may be disinclined to accept truths second-hand, +insist on thinking for herself, be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded +traditions, be untiring in her efforts to live according to a high moral +standard and to be strong, and pure, and good—” +</p> + +<p> +“Like tea,” explained Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“—yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth part of the +charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, her first +reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother’s knees. I love to come in at bed-time +and sit in the window in the setting sunshine watching the mysteries of her +going to bed. Her mother tubs her, for she is far too precious to be touched by +any nurse, and then she is rolled up in a big bath towel, and only her little +pink toes peep out; and when she is powdered, and combed, and tied up in her +night-dress, and all her curls are on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt +down on her mother’s lap, a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face +reflects the quiet of her mother’s face as she goes through her evening prayer +for pity and for peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“How very curious!” said Minora, when she had finished. “That is exactly what I +was going to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; you can copy +that if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch,” she replied; “it will +make people really think a man wrote the book. You know I am going to take a +man’s name.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is precisely what I imagined,” said Irais. “You will call yourself John +Jones, or George Potts, or some such sternly commonplace name, to emphasise +your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses, and no one will +be taken in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I really think, Elizabeth,” said Irais to me later, when the click of Minora’s +typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room, “that you and I are writing +her book for her. She takes down everything we say. Why does she copy all that +about the baby? I wonder why mothers’ knees are supposed to be touching? I +never learned anything at them, did you? But then in my case they were only +stepmother’s, and nobody ever sings their praises.” +</p> + +<p> +“My mother was always at parties,” I said; “and the nurse made me say my +prayers in French.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as for tubs and powder,” went on Irais, “when I was a baby such things +were not the fashion. There were never any bathrooms, and no tubs; our faces +and hands were washed, and there was a foot-bath in the room, and in the summer +we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards for fear we might catch cold. My +stepmother didn’t worry much; she used to wear pink dresses all over lace, and +the older she got the prettier the dresses got. When is she going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who? Minora? I haven’t asked her that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. She has +been here an unconscionable time,—it must be nearly three weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she came the same day you did,” I said pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to neglect +one’s art than one’s husband, and her husband is lying all this time stretched +on a bed of sickness, while she is spending her days so agreeably with me. She +has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or any other business in the world +than just to stay on chatting with me, and reading, and singing, and laughing +at any one there is to laugh at, and kissing the babies, and tilting with the +Man of Wrath. Naturally I love her—she is so pretty that anybody with eyes in +his head must love her—but too much of anything is bad, and next month the +passages and offices are to be whitewashed, and people who have ever +whitewashed their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while +it is being done; and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those +succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. I shall +begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring every day +anxiously after her husband’s health. She is not very fond of him, because he +does not run and hold the door open for her every time she gets up to leave the +room; and though she has asked him to do so, and told him how much she wishes +he would, he still won’t. She stayed once in a house where there was an +Englishman, and his nimbleness in regard to doors and chairs so impressed her +that her husband has had no peace since, and each time she has to go out of a +room she is reminded of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut door is to her +symbolic of the failure of her married life, and the very sight of one makes +her wonder why she was born; at least, that is what she told me once, in a +burst of confidence. He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant to talk +to, good-tempered, and full of fun; but he thinks he is too old to begin to +learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has that horror of being made better +by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men, and is shared by the Man +of Wrath, who persists in holding his glass in his left hand at meals, because +if he did not (and I don’t believe he particularly likes doing it) his +relations might say that marriage has improved him, and thus drive the iron +into his soul. This habit occasions an almost daily argument between one or +other of the babies and myself. +</p> + +<p> +“April, hold your glass in your right hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But papa doesn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you are as old as papa you can do as you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, “And only +think how strange it would look if <i>everybody</i> held their glasses so.” +</p> + +<p> +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 28<i>th</i>.—It is very cold,—fifteen degrees of frost +<i>Réaumur</i>, but perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels +jolly and energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. The two young +ladies are still here, but the air is so buoyant that even they don’t weigh on +me any longer, and besides, they have both announced their approaching +departure, so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace, and the +house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the spring. +</p> + +<p> +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a parting gift to +the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, and sat meekly times +innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, that I am not vain. When Irais first +saw it she laughed till she cried, and at once commissioned her to paint hers, +so that she may take it away with her and give it to her husband on his +birthday, which happens to be early in February. Indeed, if it were not for +this birthday, I really think she would have forgotten to go at all; but +birthdays are great and solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by +unnoticed, and always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of +relations (gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, and +that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), who stand round +a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years are offered up as a +burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink and white candles, +stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. The cake with its candles is the chief +feature, and on the table round it lie the gifts each person present is more or +less bound to give. As my birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as +blotting-books and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer I should get +photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; but whatever the present +may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be welcomed with the noisiest +gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, and such words as <i>entzückend, +reizend, herrlich, wundervoll</i>, and <i>süss</i> repeated over and over +again, until the unfortunate <i>Geburtstagskind</i> feels indeed that another +year has gone, and that she has grown older, and wiser, and more tired of folly +and of vain repetitions. A flag is hoisted, and all the morning the rites are +celebrated, the cake eaten, healths drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly +shaken off. The neighbouring parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their +wives count the candles in the cake; the active lady in the next <i>Schloss</i> +spares time to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the <i>Gotha +Almanach;</i> a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief inspector +in white kid gloves who invokes Heaven’s blessings on the gracious lady’s head; +and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner trying on all the mittens. In +the evening there is a dinner for the relations and the chief local +authorities, with more health-drinking and speechifying, and the next morning, +when I come downstairs thankful to have done with it, I am confronted by the +altar still in its place, cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, because any +hasty removal of it would imply a most lamentable want of sentiment, deplorable +in anybody, but scandalous and disgusting in a tender female. All birthdays are +observed in this fashion, and not a few wise persons go for a short trip just +about the time theirs is due, and I think I shall imitate them next year; only +trips to the country or seaside in December are not usually pleasant, and if I +go to a town there are sure to be relations in it, and then the cake will +spring up mushroom-like from the teeming soil of their affection. +</p> + +<p> +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais and myself +are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further proof were needed, it +is furnished by the fact that we both, in defiance of tradition, scorn this +celebration of birthday rites. Years ago, when first I knew her, and long +before we were either of us married, I sent her a little brass candlestick on +her birthday; and when mine followed a few months later, she sent me a +note-book. No notes were written in it, and on her next birthday I presented it +to her; she thanked me profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came +I received the brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy the +possession of each of these articles, and the present question is comfortably +settled once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. We never mention +this little arrangement except at the proper time, when we send a letter of +fervid thanks. +</p> + +<p> +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, and sitting still over the +fire out of the question, has been going on for more than a week. Sleighing and +skating have been our chief occupation, especially skating, which is more than +usually fascinating here, because the place is intersected by small canals +communicating with a lake and the river belonging to the lake, and as +everything is frozen black and hard, we can skate for miles straight ahead +without being obliged to turn round and come back again,—at all times an +annoying, and even mortifying, proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: modesty is +the only obstacle to my saying the same of myself; but I may remark that all +Germans skate well, for the simple reason that every year of their lives, for +three or four months, they may do it as much as they like. Minora was +astonished and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and arriving at the +place where tea meets us half an hour after we had finished. In some places the +banks of the canals are so high that only our heads appear level with the +fields, and it is, as Minora noted in her book, a curious sight to see three +female heads skimming along apparently by themselves, and enjoying it +tremendously. When the banks are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously over +the roughest ploughed fields, with or without legs according to circumstances. +Before we start, I fix on the place where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and +we drive home again; because skating against the wind is as detestable as +skating with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its blowing +without the smallest regard for our convenience. Yesterday, by way of a change, +we went for a picnic to the shores of the Baltic, ice-bound at this season, and +utterly desolate at our nearest point. I have a weakness for picnics, +especially in winter, when the mosquitoes cease from troubling and the +ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many favourite picnic spots this one on +the Baltic is the loveliest and best. As it is a three-hours’ drive, the Man of +Wrath is loud in his lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which +means, as experience has taught him, this particular excursion. There must be +deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; and when, on waking up, I +see these conditions fulfilled, then it would need some very potent reason to +keep me from having out a sleigh and going off. It is, I admit, a hard day for +the horses; but why have horses if they are not to take you where you want to +go to, and at the time you want to go? And why should not horses have hard days +as well as everybody else? The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for +nature and frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive through a forest +that does not belong to him; a single turnip on his own place is more admirable +in his eyes than the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that ever reared its +snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. Now observe the superiority of +woman, who sees that both are good, and after having gazed at the pine and been +made happy by its beauty, goes home and placidly eats the turnip. He went once +and only once to this particular place, and made us feel so small by his +<i>blasé</i> behaviour that I never invite him now. It is a beautiful spot, +endless forest stretching along the shore as far as the eye can reach; and +after driving through it for miles you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue +of arching trees, upon the glistening, oily sea, with the orange-coloured sails +of distant fishing-smacks shining in the sunlight. Whenever I have been there +it has been windless weather, and the silence so profound that I could hear my +pulses beating. The humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are the +only sounds in summer, and in winter the stillness is the stillness of death. +</p> + +<p> +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is so infested by +mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem most natural, that those of my +visitors who have been taken there for a treat have invariably lost their +tempers, and made the quiet shores ring with their wailing and lamentations. +These despicable but irritating insects don’t seem to have anything to do but +to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for any prey Providence may send +them; and as soon as the carriage appears they rise up in a cloud, and rush to +meet us, almost dragging us out bodily, and never leave us until we drive away +again. The sudden view of the sea from the mossy, pine-covered height directly +above it where we picnic; the wonderful stretch of lonely shore with the forest +to the water’s edge; the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness—all is lost upon the picnickers, and made worse +than indifferent to them, by the perpetual necessity they are under of fighting +these horrid creatures. It is nice being the only person who ever goes there or +shows it to anybody, but if more people went, perhaps the mosquitoes would be +less lean, and hungry, and pleased to see us. It has, however, the advantage of +being a suitable place to which to take refractory visitors when they have +stayed too long, or left my books out in the garden all night, or otherwise +made their presence a burden too grievous to be borne; then one fine hot +morning when they are all looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on the +Baltic. I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted with exclamations +of surprise and delight. +</p> + +<p> +“The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? How +<i>heavenly</i> to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! The very +<i>thought</i> puts new life into one! And how <i>delightful</i> to see the +Baltic! Oh, <i>please</i> take us!” And then I take them. +</p> + +<p> +But on a brilliant winter’s day my conscience is as clear as the frosty air +itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of spirits, even +Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least provocation. Only our +eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and woollen wrappings necessary to +our heads if we would come back with our ears and noses in the same places they +were in when we started, and for the first two miles the mirth created by each +other’s strange appearance was uproarious,—a fact I mention merely to show what +an effect dry, bright, intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how much +better it is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and sulk. As we +passed through the neighbouring village with cracking of whip and jingling of +bells, heads popped up at the windows to stare, and the only living thing in +the silent, sunny street was a melancholy fowl with ruffled feathers, which +looked at us reproachfully, as we dashed with so much energy over the crackling +snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, foolish bird!” Irais called out as we passed; “you’ll be indeed a cold +fowl if you stand there motionless, and every one prefers them hot in weather +like this!” +</p> + +<p> +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid joke had been +made, and before we had done we were out of the village and in the open country +beyond, and could see my house and garden far away behind, glittering in the +sunshine; and in front of us lay the forest, with its vistas of pines +stretching away into infinity, and a drive through it of fourteen miles before +we reached the sea. It was a hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted +forest leading into fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often +before, and always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the place. For +a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep blue line, and a +cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a narrow strip of pale yellow +sand; right and left the line of sparkling forest; and we ourselves standing in +a world of white and diamond traceries. The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay +on the place like a benediction. +</p> + +<p> +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, but she thought +this beat it almost. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see,” said Irais in a hushed voice, as though she were in a holy +place, “how the two can be compared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course,” replied Minora; after which we +turned away and thought we would keep her quiet by feeding her, so we went back +to the sleigh and had the horses taken out and their cloths put on, and they +were walked up and down a distant glade while we sat in the sleigh and +picnicked. It <i>is</i> a hard day for the horses,—nearly thirty miles there +and back and no stable in the middle; but they are so fat and spoiled that it +cannot do them much harm sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. I warmed +soup in a little apparatus I have for such occasions, which helped to take the +chilliness off the sandwiches,—this is the only unpleasant part of a winter +picnic, the clammy quality of the provisions just when you most long for +something very hot. Minora let her nose very carefully out of its wrappings, +took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She was nervous lest it +should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add that her nose is not a bad +nose, and might even be pretty on anybody else; but she does not know how to +carry it, and there is an art in the angle at which one’s nose is held just as +in everything else, and really noses were intended for something besides mere +blowing. +</p> + +<p> +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches with immense fur +and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost as much fur as anything, and +choked exceedingly during the process. Minora was angry at this, and at last +pulled off her glove, but quickly put it on again. +</p> + +<p> +“How very unpleasant,” she remarked after swallowing a large piece of fur. +</p> + +<p> +“It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Pipes!” echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” I said, as she continued to choke and splutter; +“we are all in the same case, and I don’t know how to alter it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are such things as forks, I suppose,” snapped Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; but of what +use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? So Minora had to continue to eat +her gloves. +</p> + +<p> +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind the trees and the +clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. The old coachman was given sandwiches +and soup, and while he led the horses up and down with one hand and held his +lunch in the other, we packed up—or, to be correct, I packed, and the others +looked on and gave me valuable advice. +</p> + +<p> +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was born on the place, +and has driven its occupants for fifty years, and I am nearly as fond of him as +I am of the sun-dial; indeed, I don’t know what I should do without him, so +entirely does he appear to understand and approve of my tastes and wishes. No +drive is too long or difficult for the horses if I want to take it, no place +impossible to reach if I want to go to it, no weather or roads too bad to +prevent my going out if I wish to: to all my suggestions he responds with the +readiest cheerfulness, and smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of +Wrath, who rewards his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking of him as an +<i>alter Esel</i>. In the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and +alone in the scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit +quite still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune over and +over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there are no nightingales, +listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its blessedness descend into +my very soul. The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same +tune, and in the same key of (E flat). +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img03.jpg" width="479" height="70" alt=""> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +I don’t know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar to this +particular spot. When they have sung it once, they clear their throats a +little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the prettiest little song +in the world. How could I indulge my passion for these drives with their pauses +without Peter? He is so used to them that he stops now at the right moment +without having to be told, and he is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, +with no sign of anything but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. The Man +of Wrath deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, of mine; but has +given up trying to prevent my indulging them because, while he is deploring in +one part of the house, I have slipped out at a door in the other, and am gone +before he can catch me, and have reached and am lost in the shadows of the +forest by the time he has discovered that I am nowhere to be found. +</p> + +<p> +The brightness of Peter’s perfections are sullied however by one spot, and that +is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold the horses in if they +don’t want to be held in, but he goes to sleep sometimes on his box if I have +him out too soon after lunch, and has upset me twice within the last year—once +last winter out of a sleigh, and once this summer, when the horses shied at a +bicycle, and bolted into the ditch on one side of the <i>chaussée</i> (German +for high road), and the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it +shied too into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and +the bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who never +lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue clave to the roof +of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him. +</p> + +<p> +“But I should think he ought to have been <i>thoroughly</i> scolded on an +occasion like that,” said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story as we +wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in the sleigh; and +she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was visible between the +bushes above us. “Shall we get home before dark?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very highest +of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were creeping up, +and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull brown; a flight of wild +geese passed across the disc of the moon with loud cacklings. +</p> + +<p> +“Before dark?” echoed Irais, “I should think not. It is dark now nearly in the +forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive you,” +said Minora apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“But he’s such an old dear,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, no doubt,” she replied testily; “but there are wakeful old dears to +be had, and on a box they are preferable.” +</p> + +<p> +Irais laughed. “You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“He isn’t on a box to-day,” said I; “and I never knew him to go to sleep +standing up behind us on a sleigh.” But Minora was not to be appeased, and +muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows how +alarmed she was, for it was rude. +</p> + +<p> +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, and Irais and I at least +were as happy as possible driving back, with all the glories of the western sky +flashing at us every now and then at the end of a long avenue as we swiftly +passed, and later on, when they had faded, myriads of stars in the narrow black +strip of sky over our heads. It was bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and +not in the least inclined to laugh with us as she had been six hours before. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?’ inquired Irais, as we got out of the +forest on to the <i>chaussée</i>, and the lights of the village before ours +twinkled in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +“How many degrees do you suppose there are now?” was Minora’s reply to this +question. +</p> + +<p> +“Degrees?—Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold,” cried Irais solicitously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it isn’t exactly warm, is it?” said Minora sulkily; and Irais pinched +me. “Well, but think how much colder you would have been without all that fur +you ate for lunch inside you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic,” said I. +“Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English person who has +ever been to just this part of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t there some English poem,” said Irais, “about being the first who ever +burst—” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Into that silent sea,’” finished Minora hastily. “You can’t quote that +without its context, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I wasn’t going to,” said Irais meekly; “I only paused to breathe. I must +breathe, or perhaps I might die.” +</p> + +<p> +The lights from my energetic friend’s <i>Schloss</i> shone brightly down upon +us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; she is very +proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it is the only one in the +whole district. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you never go there?” asked Minora, jerking her head in the direction of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel I was in the way if I +went often.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be interesting to see another North German interior,” said Minora; +“and I should be obliged if you would take me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl,” I protested; “and we +are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking all my visitors +to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to see another interior for?” asked Irais. “I can tell you +what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak to you, and if you were to +ask questions, and began to take notes, the good lady would stare at you in the +frankest amazement, and think Elizabeth had brought a young lunatic out for an +airing. <i>Everybody</i> is not as patient as Elizabeth,” added Irais, anxious +to pay off old scores. +</p> + +<p> +“I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora,” I said, “but I can’t do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we went,” said Irais, “Elizabeth and I would be placed with great ceremony +on a sofa behind a large, polished oval table with a crochet-mat in the +centre—it <i>has</i> got a crochet-mat in the centre, hasn’t it?” I nodded. +“And you would sit on one of the four little podgy, buttony, tasselly red +chairs that are ranged on the other side of the table facing the sofa. They +<i>are</i> red, Elizabeth?” Again I nodded. “The floor is painted yellow, and +there is no carpet except a rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark +chocolate colour, almost black; that is in order that after years of use the +dirt may not show, and the room need not be done up. Dirt is like wickedness, +you see, Miss Minora—its being there never matters; it is only when it shows so +much as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. At intervals +round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with lamps on them, and in one +corner is a great white cold stove—or is it majolica?” she asked, turning to +me. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is white.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let in the air and the +sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown lace curtains under heavy +stuff ones as though a whole row of houses were just opposite, with peering +eyes at every window trying to look in, instead of there only being fields, and +trees, and birds. No fire, no sunlight, no books, no flowers; but a consoling +smell of red cabbage coming up under the door, mixed, in due season, with +soapsuds.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did you go there?” asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been calling +there all my life.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora’s eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the depths of +her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark eyelashes, and far be it +from me to deny that each eye taken by itself is fine, but they are put in all +wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing you would learn there,” went on Irais, “would be the +significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went there together, I +should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, because it is the +place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; Elizabeth would be invited to +seat herself in the left-hand corner, as next in importance; the hostess would +sit near us in an arm-chair; and you, as a person of no importance whatever, +would either be left to sit where you could, or would be put on a chair facing +us, and with the entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense +social gulf that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. These sofa +corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible in a way that nothing +else could. The world might come to an end, and create less sensation in doing +it, than you would, Miss Minora, if by any chance you got into the right-hand +corner of one. That you are put on a chair on the other side of the table +places you at once in the scale of precedence, and exactly defines your social +position, or rather your complete want of a social position.” And Irais tilted +her nose ever so little heavenwards. +</p> + +<p> +“Note it,” she added, “as the heading of your next chapter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Note what?” asked Minora impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, ‘The Subtle Significance of Sofas’, of course,” replied Irais. “If,” she +continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this suggestion, “you were +to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues the innocent would most likely +make you hit on a washing-day, and the distracted mistress of the house would +keep you waiting in the cold room so long while she changed her dress, that you +would begin to fear you were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and +when she did appear, would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the +rage that was boiling in her heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent—pardon my familiarity, +but such ignorance of country-life customs is very touching in one who is +writing a book about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant,” said Minora loftily. +</p> + +<p> +“Seasons of washing,” explained Irais, “are seasons set apart by the +<i>Hausfrau</i> to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, and +while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every other +consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into insignificance, and no +one approaching, or interfering with the mistress of the house during these +days of purification, but at their peril.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t really mean,” said Minora, “that you only wash your clothes four +times a year?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think that is very disgusting,” said Minora emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. “Then you must take care +and not marry a German,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the object of it?” went on Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to clean the linen, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape of linen. +If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, as you do in +England, you would be put down as a person who only has just enough to last +that length of time, and would be an object of general contempt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I should be a clean object,” cried Minora, “and my house would not be full +of accumulated dirt.” +</p> + +<p> +We said nothing—there was nothing to be said. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a happy land, that England of yours,” Irais remarked after a while +with a sigh—a beatific vision no doubt presenting itself to her mind of a land +full of washerwomen and agile gentlemen darting at door-handles. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a <i>clean</i> land, at any rate,” replied Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> don’t want to go and live in it,” I said—for we were driving up to +the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came into my mind as I looked up +fondly at its dear old west front, and I felt that what I want is to live and +die just here, and that there never was such a happy woman as Elizabeth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>April</i> 18<i>th</i>.—I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying on its +green and flowered petticoat—only its petticoat as yet, for though the +underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, the trees above are still +quite bare. +</p> + +<p> +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, so deeply was I engaged +in making hot-beds, and having them sown with petunias, verbenas, and nicotina +affinis; while no less than thirty are dedicated solely to vegetables, it +having been borne in upon me lately that vegetables must be interesting things +to grow, besides possessing solid virtues not given to flowers, and that I +might as well take the orchard and kitchen garden under my wing. So I have +rushed in with all the zeal of utter inexperience, and my February evenings +were spent poring over gardening books, and my days in applying the freshly +absorbed wisdom. Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the +country? It was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, and its mild +days enabled me to get on beautifully with the digging and manuring, and filled +my rooms with snowdrops. The longer I live the greater is my respect and +affection for manure in all its forms, and already, though the year is so +young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been spent on artificial +manure. The Man of Wrath says he never met a young woman who spent her money +that way before; I remarked that it must be nice to have an original wife; and +he retorted that the word original hardly described me, and that the word +eccentric was the one required. Very well, I suppose I am eccentric, since even +my husband says so; but if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature as +to result later in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest lettuce in Prussia, +why then he ought to be the first to rise up and call me blessed. +</p> + +<p> +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they are not grown here, and +people try and make boiled cucumbers take their place; but boiled cucumbers are +nasty things, and I don’t see why marrows should not do here perfectly well. +These, and primrose-roots, are the English contributions to my garden. I +brought over the roots in a tin box last time I came from England, and am +anxious to see whether they will consent to live here. Certain it is that they +don’t exist in the Fatherland, so I can only conclude the winter kills them, +for surely, if such lovely things would grow, they never would have been +overlooked. Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so many +English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they have got so +mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and Disraelis, that she longs to +see this mysterious political flower, and has made me promise to telegraph when +it appears, and she will come over. But they are not going to do anything this +year, and I only hope those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of +flowers. I am afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. +</p> + +<p> +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and the babies, +and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the numerous relations +staying with her have left,—“which they won’t do,” she wrote the other day, +“until the first frosts nip them off, when they will disappear like belated +dahlias—double ones of course, for single dahlias are too charming to be +compared to relations. I have every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and +here they have been ever since my husband’s birthday—not the same ones exactly, +but I get so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. My +husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I am left +at their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at—I should be grateful even +for one, and would look at it from morning till night, and quite stare it out +of countenance, sooner than stay at home and have the truth told me by +enigmatic aunts. Do you know my Aunt Bertha? she, in particular, spends her +time propounding obscure questions for my solution. I get so tired and worried +trying to guess the answers, which are always truths supposed to be good for me +to hear. ‘Why do you wear your hair on your forehead?’ she asks,—and that sets +me off wondering why I <i>do</i> wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to +know for, or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer +truthfully. ‘I am sure I don’t know, aunt,’ I say meekly, after puzzling over +it for ever so long; ‘perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring and ask her?’ And +then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly line she says I have down +the middle of my forehead, and that betokens a listless and discontented +disposition. Well, if she knew, what did she ask me for? Whenever I am with +them they ask me riddles like that, and I simply lead a <i>dog’s</i> life. Oh, +my dear, relations are like drugs,—useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if +taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, +and the truly wise avoid them.” +</p> + +<p> +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, in which she +thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending me a bottle of +English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; that it was wonderful +stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that it cost two marks, and would +I send stamps. I pondered long over this. Was it a parting hit, intended as +revenge for our having laughed at her? Was she personally interested in the +sale of embrocation? Or was it merely Minora’s idea of a graceful return for my +hospitality? As for bruises, nobody who skates decently regards it as a +bruise-producing exercise, and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; +but she did happen to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of +tumbling down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly +veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps, +received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; I had been a +good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, but the best of Samaritans +resents the offer of healing oil for his own use. But why waste a thought on +Minora at Easter, the real beginning of the year in defiance of calendars. She +belongs to the winter that is past, to the darkness that is over, and has no +part or lot in the life I shall lead for the next six months. Oh, I could dance +and sing for joy that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there +is in my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant +Easter day I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the windflowers +and celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald, to +see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon was so hot that we +lay a long time on the turf, blinking up through the leafless branches of the +silver birches at the soft, fat little white clouds floating motionless in the +blue. We had tea on the grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, and +the babies were in bed, and all the little wind-flowers folded up for the +night, I still wandered in the green paths, my heart full of happiest +gratitude. It makes one very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth +of beauty and perfection <i>anonymously</i> lavished, and to think of the +infinite meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we are if +they are not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely trust that the +benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may by degrees be more +deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and cheerfulness, just +like the happy flowers I so much love. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1327 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/old/1327-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/1327-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4758b6e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/old/1327-h/images/img01.jpg b/old/1327-h/images/img01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..375c8e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-h/images/img01.jpg diff --git a/old/1327-h/images/img02.jpg b/old/1327-h/images/img02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d13e54 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-h/images/img02.jpg diff --git a/old/1327-h/images/img03.jpg b/old/1327-h/images/img03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c8fe29 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1327-h/images/img03.jpg diff --git a/old/old/1327.txt b/old/old/1327.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5603f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/1327.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5019 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Elizabeth and her German Garden, by +"Elizabeth", AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Elizabeth and her German Garden + +Author: "Elizabeth", AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp + +Posting Date: August 24, 2008 [EBook #1327] +Release Date: May, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN *** + + + + +Produced by R. McGowan + + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + + +By "Elizabeth", AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION + +Originally published in 1898, "Elizabeth and her German Garden" is +the first book by Marie Annette Beauchamp--known all her life as +"Elizabeth". The book, anonymously published, was an incredible success, +going through printing after printing by several publishers over the +next few years. (I myself own three separate early editions of this +book by different publishers on both sides of the Atlantic.) The present +Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated deluxe MacMillan +(London) edition of 1900. + +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer Katherine Mansfield +(whose real name was Kathleen Mansfield Beauchamp). Born in Australia, +Elizabeth was educated in England. She was reputed to be a fine organist +and musician. At a young age, she captured the heart of a German Count, +was persuaded to marry him, and went to live in Germany. Over the next +years she bore five daughters. After her husband's death and the decline +of the estate, she returned to England. She was a friend to many of high +social standing, including people such as H. G. Wells (who considered +her one of the finest wits of the day). Some time later she married the +brother of Bertrand Russell; which marriage was a failure and ended in +divorce. Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at the outbreak of the +Second World War, and there died in 1941. + +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name "Elizabeth von +Arnim", author of "The Enchanted April" which was recently made into +a successful film by the same title. Another of her books, "Mr. +Skeffington" was also once made into a film starring Bette Davis, circa +1940. + +Some of Elizabeth's work is published in modern editions by Virago +and other publishers. Among these are: "Love", "The Enchanted April", +"Caravaners", "Christopher and Columbus", "The Pastor's Wife", "Mr. +Skeffington", "The Solitary Summer", and "Elizabeth's Adventures in +Rugen". Also published by Virago is her non-autobiography "All the Dogs +of My Life"--as the title suggests, it is the story not of her life, but +of the lives of the many dogs she owned; though of course it does touch +upon her own experiences. + +In the centennial year of this book's first publication, I hope that its +availability through Project Gutenberg will stir some renewed interest +in Elizabeth and her delightful work. She is, I would venture, my +favorite author; and I hope that soon she will be one of your favorites. + +R. McGowan San Jose, April 11 1998. + + +The first page of the book contains two musical phrases, marked in the +text below between square brackets []. + + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + + +May 7th.--I love my garden. I am writing in it now in the late afternoon +loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes and the temptation to +look at all the glories of the new green leaves washed half an hour ago +in a cold shower. Two owls are perched near me, and are carrying on a +long conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of nightingales. +The gentleman owl says [[musical notes occur here in the printed text]], +and she answers from her tree a little way off, [[musical notes]], +beautifully assenting to and completing her lord's remark, as becomes +a properly constructed German she-owl. They say the same thing over and +over again so emphatically that I think it must be something nasty about +me; but I shall not let myself be frightened away by the sarcasm of +owls. + +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived in the house, +much less in the garden, for twenty-five years, and it is such a +pretty old place that the people who might have lived here and did +not, deliberately preferring the horrors of a flat in a town, must have +belonged to that vast number of eyeless and earless persons of whom the +world seems chiefly composed. Noseless too, though it does not sound +pretty; but the greater part of my spring happiness is due to the scent +of the wet earth and young leaves. + +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there +are servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring +happiness bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though +it is not more intense, and there were days last winter when I danced +for sheer joy out in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and +children. But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the +decencies. + +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches +sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white +blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding. +I never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place. Even +across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east, and right in +the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one, a picture +of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky. + +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, and beyond are great +stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, and where the forests leave +off the bare heath begins again; but the forests are beautiful in +their lofty, pink-stemmed vastness, far overhead the crowns of softest +gray-green, and underfoot a bright green wortleberry carpet, and +everywhere the breathless silence; and the bare heaths are beautiful +too, for one can see across them into eternity almost, and to go out on +to them with one's face towards the setting sun is like going into the +very presence of God. + +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of birdcherries and greenery +where I spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray +stone house with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. The house +is very old, and has been added to at various times. It was a convent +before the Thirty Years' War, and the vaulted chapel, with its brick +floor worn by pious peasant knees, is now used as a hall. Gustavus +Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more than once, as is duly +recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what was then the +high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. The Lion of +the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly up to his +convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, who were +not without convictions of their own, sending them out on to the wide, +empty plain to piteously seek some life to replace the life of silence +here. + +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out across the +plain, with no obstacle in the shape of a hill, right away to a blue +line of distant forest, and on the west side uninterruptedly to the +setting sun--nothing but a green, rolling plain, with a sharp edge +against the sunset. I love those west windows better than any others, +and have chosen my bedroom on that side of the house so that even times +of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the young woman who +attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties about a +mistress recumbent in an easychair before an open window, and not to +profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. This girl is grieved +at my habit of living almost in the garden, and all her ideas as to the +sort of life a respectable German lady should lead have got into a sad +muddle since she came to me. The people round about are persuaded that I +am, to put it as kindly as possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the news +has travelled that I spend the day out of doors with a book, and that no +mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew or cook. But why cook when you can +get some one to cook for you? And as for sewing, the maids will hem the +sheets better and quicker than I could, and all forms of needlework of +the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for keeping the foolish +from applying their heart to wisdom. + +We had been married five years before it struck us that we might as well +make use of this place by coming down and living in it. Those five years +were spent in a flat in a town, and during their whole interminable +length I was perfectly miserable and perfectly healthy, which disposes +of the ugly notion that has at times disturbed me that my happiness here +is less due to the garden than to a good digestion. And while we were +wasting our lives there, here was this dear place with dandelions up +to the very door, all the paths grass-grown and completely effaced, in +winter so lonely, with nobody but the north wind taking the least notice +of it, and in May--in all those five lovely Mays--no one to look at +the wonderful bird-cherries and still more wonderful masses of lilacs, +everything glowing and blowing, the virginia creeper madder every year, +until at last, in October, the very roof was wreathed with blood-red +tresses, the owls and the squirrels and all the blessed little birds +reigning supreme, and not a living creature ever entering the empty +house except the snakes, which got into the habit during those silent +years of wriggling up the south wall into the rooms on that side +whenever the old housekeeper opened the windows. All that was +here,--peace, and happiness, and a reasonable life,--and yet it never +struck me to come and live in it. Looking back I am astonished, and can +in no way account for the tardiness of my discovery that here, in this +far-away corner, was my kingdom of heaven. Indeed, so little did it +enter my head to even use the place in summer, that I submitted to weeks +of seaside life with all its horrors every year; until at last, in +the early spring of last year, having come down for the opening of the +village school, and wandering out afterwards into the bare and desolate +garden, I don't know what smell of wet earth or rotting leaves brought +back my childhood with a rush and all the happy days I had spent in a +garden. Shall I ever forget that day? It was the beginning of my real +life, my coming of age as it were, and entering into my kingdom. Early +March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, quiet earth; leafless and sad +and lonely enough out there in the damp and silence, yet there I stood +feeling the same rapture of pure delight in the first breath of spring +that I used to as a child, and the five wasted years fell from me like a +cloak, and the world was full of hope, and I vowed myself then and there +to nature, and have been happy ever since. + +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought perhaps that +it might be as well to look after the place, consented to live in it +at any rate for a time; whereupon followed six specially blissful weeks +from the end of April into June, during which I was here alone, supposed +to be superintending the painting and papering, but as a matter of fact +only going into the house when the workmen had gone out of it. + +How happy I was! I don't remember any time quite so perfect since the +days when I was too little to do lessons and was turned out with sugar +on my eleven o'clock bread and butter on to a lawn closely strewn with +dandelions and daisies. The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its +charm, but I love the dandelions and daisies even more passionately now +than then, and never would endure to see them all mown away if I were +not certain that in a day or two they would be pushing up their little +faces again as jauntily as ever. During those six weeks I lived in a +world of dandelions and delights. The dandelions carpeted the three +lawns,--they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed out into +meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,--and under and among the +groups of leafless oaks and beeches were blue hepaticas, white anemones, +violets, and celandines in sheets. The celandines in particular +delighted me with their clean, happy brightness, so beautifully trim +and newly varnished, as though they too had had the painters at work +on them. Then, when the anemones went, came a few stray periwinkles and +Solomon's Seal, and all the birdcherries blossomed in a burst. And then, +before I had a little got used to the joy of their flowers against the +sky, came the lilacs--masses and masses of them, in clumps on the +grass, with other shrubs and trees by the side of walks, and one great +continuous bank of them half a mile long right past the west front of +the house, away down as far as one could see, shining glorious against +a background of firs. When that time came, and when, before it was +over, the acacias all blossomed too, and four great clumps of pale, +silvery-pink peonies flowered under the south windows, I felt so +absolutely happy, and blest, and thankful, and grateful, that I really +cannot describe it. My days seemed to melt away in a dream of pink and +purple peace. + +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, so +that on the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge what my +other half calls my _fantaisie_ _dereglee_ as regards meals--that is to +say, meals so simple that they could be brought out to the lilacs on +a tray; and I lived, I remember, on salad and bread and tea the whole +time, sometimes a very tiny pigeon appearing at lunch to save me, as +the old lady thought, from starvation. Who but a woman could have stood +salad for six weeks, even salad sanctified by the presence and scent +of the most gorgeous lilac masses? I did, and grew in grace every day, +though I have never liked it since. How often now, oppressed by the +necessity of assisting at three dining-room meals daily, two of which +are conducted by the functionaries held indispensable to a proper +maintenance of the family dignity, and all of which are pervaded by +joints of meat, how often do I think of my salad days, forty in number, +and of the blessedness of being alone as I was then alone! + +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house was +left to emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered up +her rheumatic limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another +part of the house had been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave +the friendly frogs and owls, and with my heart somewhere down in my +shoes lock the door to the garden behind me, and pass through the long +series of echoing south rooms full of shadows and ladders and ghostly +pails of painters' mess, and humming a tune to make myself believe +I liked it, go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the +creaking stairs, down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final +rush of panic whisk into my room and double lock and bolt the door! + +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great dinner-bell +to bed with me so that at least I might be able to make a noise if +frightened in the night, though what good it would have been I don't +know, as there was no one to hear. The housemaid slept in another little +cell opening out of mine, and we two were the only living creatures in +the great empty west wing. She evidently did not believe in ghosts, for +I could hear how she fell asleep immediately after getting into bed; nor +do I believe in them, "mais je les redoute," as a French lady said, who +from her books appears to have been strongminded. + +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it comforted +me to see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights were anything but +placid, it was all so strange, and there were such queer creakings and +other noises. I used to lie awake for hours, startled out of a light +sleep by the cracking of some board, and listen to the indifferent +snores of the girl in the next room. In the morning, of course, I was as +brave as a lion and much amused at the cold perspirations of the night +before; but even the nights seem to me now to have been delightful, +and myself like those historic boys who heard a voice in every wind +and snatched a fearful joy. I would gladly shiver through them all +over again for the sake of the beautiful purity of the house, empty of +servants and upholstery. + +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful +new papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and build +all sorts of castles in the air about their future and their past. Would +the nuns who had lived in them know their little white-washed cells +again, all gay with delicate flower papers and clean white paint? And +how astonished they would be to see cell No. 14 turned into a bathroom, +with a bath big enough to insure a cleanliness of body equal to their +purity of soul! They would look upon it as a snare of the tempter; and I +know that in my own case I only began to be shocked at the blackness of +my nails the day that I began to lose the first whiteness of my soul by +falling in love at fifteen with the parish organist, or rather with the +glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and fiery moustache which was all +I ever saw of him, and which I loved to distraction for at least six +months; at the end of which time, going out with my governess one day, I +passed him in the street, and discovered that his unofficial garb was +a frock-coat combined with a turn-down collar and a "bowler" hat, and +never loved him any more. + +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for +I had not a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. +Then he appeared suddenly who has a right to appear when and how he will +and rebuked me for never having written, and when I told him that I had +been literally too happy to think of writing, he seemed to take it as a +reflection on himself that I could be happy alone. I took him round the +garden along the new paths I had had made, and showed him the acacia and +lilac glories, and he said that it was the purest selfishness to enjoy +myself when neither he nor the offspring were with me, and that the +lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. I tried to appease him by offering him +the whole of my salad and toast supper which stood ready at the foot of +the little verandah steps when we came back, but nothing appeased that +Man of Wrath, and he said he would go straight back to the neglected +family. So he went; and the remainder of the precious time was disturbed +by twinges of conscience (to which I am much subject) whenever I found +myself wanting to jump for joy. I went to look at the painters every +time my feet were for taking me to look at the garden; I trotted +diligently up and down the passages; I criticised and suggested and +commanded more in one day than I had done in all the rest of the time; +I wrote regularly and sent my love; but I could not manage to fret and +yearn. What are you to do if your conscience is clear and your liver in +order and the sun is shining? + + +May 10th.--I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening and this +year know very little more, but I have dawnings of what may be done, and +have at least made one great stride--from ipomaea to tea-roses. + +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all round the house, but +the principal part is on the south side and has evidently always been +so. The south front is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one +into the other, and the walls are covered with virginia creeper. There +is a little verandah in the middle, leading by a flight of rickety +wooden steps down into what seems to have been the only spot in the +whole place that was ever cared for. This is a semicircle cut into the +lawn and edged with privet, and in this semicircle are eleven beds of +different sizes bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, and the +sun-dial is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by me. +These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening to be seen +(except a solitary crocus that came up all by itself each spring in the +grass, not because it wanted to, but because it could not help it), and +these I had sown with ipomaea, the whole eleven, having found a German +gardening book, according to which ipomaea in vast quantities was the +one thing needful to turn the most hideous desert into a paradise. +Nothing else in that book was recommended with anything like the same +warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity of seed necessary, I +bought ten pounds of it and had it sown not only in the eleven beds +but round nearly every tree, and then waited in great agitation for the +promised paradise to appear. It did not, and I learned my first lesson. + +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweetpeas which made me very +happy all the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few +hollyhocks under the south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. But +the lilies, after being transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, +for how was I to know it was the way of lilies? And the hollyhocks +turned out to be rather ugly colours, so that my first summer was +decorated and beautified solely by sweet-peas. At present we are only +just beginning to breathe after the bustle of getting new beds and +borders and paths made in time for this summer. The eleven beds round +the sun-dial are filled with roses, but I see already that I have +made mistakes with some. As I have not a living soul with whom to hold +communion on this or indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is +by making mistakes. All eleven were to have been carpeted with purple +pansies, but finding that I had not enough and that nobody had any to +sell me, only six have got their pansies, the others being sown with +dwarf mignonette. Two of the eleven are filled with Marie van Houtte +roses, two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette Messimy, one +with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, two with +Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind the sun-dial with +three sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), Duke of Teck, Cheshunt +Scarlet, and Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, I am sure, a mistake, and +several of the others are, I think, but of course I must wait and see, +being such an ignorant person. Then I have had two long beds made in the +grass on either side of the semicircle, each sown with mignonette, and +one filled with Marie van Houtte, and the other with Jules Finger and +the Bride; and in a warm corner under the drawing-room windows is a +bed of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and Comtesse Riza du Parc; +while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north and west by a +group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, containing Rubens, +Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hen. Edith Gifford. All these roses are +dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, two Madame George +Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. How I long for the day when +the tea-roses open their buds! Never did I look forward so intensely to +anything; and every day I go the rounds, admiring what the dear little +things have achieved in the twenty-four hours in the way of new leaf or +increase of lovely red shoot. + +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south +windows in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot of +which I have sown two long borders of sweetpeas facing the rose beds, so +that my roses may have something almost as sweet as themselves to +look at until the autumn, when everything is to make place for more +tea-roses. The path leading away from this semicircle down the garden is +bordered with China roses, white and pink, with here and there a Persian +Yellow. I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I have misgivings as +to the effect of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, for the Chinas +are such wee little baby things, and the Persian Yellows look as though +they intended to be big bushes. + +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the +least understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward to the +flowering of these roses, and not a German gardening book that does not +relegate all tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning them for life, and +depriving them for ever of the breath of God. It was no doubt because I +was so ignorant that I rushed in where Teutonic angels fear to tread and +made my tea-roses face a northern winter; but they did face it under +fir branches and leaves, and not one has suffered, and they are looking +to-day as happy and as determined to enjoy themselves as any roses, I am +sure, in Europe. + +May 14th.--To-day I am writing on the verandah with the three babies, +more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, and already several of +the thirty fingers have been in the ink-pot and the owners consoled when +duty pointed to rebukes. But who can rebuke such penitent and drooping +sunbonnets? I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores and nimble +black legs. + +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, and the +gardener's assistant, are the only people who ever go into my garden, +but then neither are we ever out of it. The gardener has been here a +year and has given me notice regularly on the first of every month, but +up to now has been induced to stay on. On the first of this month he +came as usual, and with determination written on every feature told me +he intended to go in June, and that nothing should alter his decision. +I don't think he knows much about gardening, but he can at least dig and +water, and some of the things he sows come up, and some of the plants +he plants grow, besides which he is the most unflaggingly industrious +person I ever saw, and has the great merit of never appearing to take +the faintest interest in what we do in the garden. So I have tried to +keep him on, not knowing what the next one may be like, and when I asked +him what he had to complain of and he replied "Nothing," I could only +conclude that he has a personal objection to me because of my eccentric +preference for plants in groups rather than plants in lines. Perhaps, +too, he does not like the extracts from gardening books I read to him +sometimes when he is planting or sowing something new. Being so helpless +myself, I thought it simpler, instead of explaining, to take the +book itself out to him and let him have wisdom at its very source, +administering it in doses while he worked. I quite recognise that this +must be annoying, and only my anxiety not to lose a whole year through +some stupid mistake has given me the courage to do it. I laugh +sometimes behind the book at his disgusted face, and wish we could be +photographed, so that I may be reminded in twenty years' time, when the +garden is a bower of loveliness and I learned in all its ways, of my +first happy struggles and failures. + +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the +autumn into their permanent places, and all through April he went about +with a long piece of string making parallel lines down the borders of +beautiful exactitude and arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a +review. Two long borders were done during my absence one day, and when I +explained that I should like the third to have plants in groups and +not in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural effect with no bare +spaces of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily hopeless than +usual; and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he had +planted two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little +lines of five plants in a row--first five pinks, and next to them five +rockets, and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five +rockets, and so on with different plants of every sort and size down to +the end. When I protested, he said he had only carried out my orders +and had known it would not look well; so I gave in, and the remaining +borders were done after the pattern of the first two, and I will have +patience and see how they look this summer, before digging them up +again; for it becomes beginners to be humble. + +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, besides being so +fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where you want them and put +in your plants exactly as you choose instead of giving orders that can +only be half understood from the moment you depart from the lines laid +down by that long piece of string! In the first ecstasy of having a +garden all my own, and in my burning impatience to make the waste places +blossom like a rose, I did one warm Sunday in last year's April during +the servants' dinner hour, doubly secure from the gardener by the day +and the dinner, slink out with a spade and a rake and feverishly dig a +little piece of ground and break it up and sow surreptitious ipomaea, +and run back very hot and guilty into the house, and get into a chair +and behind a book and look languid just in time to save my reputation. +And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one hot; but it is a +blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in Paradise and known +what to do with it, we should not have had all that sad business of the +apple. + +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, +birds, and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town +acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment, and burying, and I don't +know what besides, and would rend the air with their shrieks if +condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest above all +my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily. I believe I +should always be good if the sun always shone, and could enjoy myself +very well in Siberia on a fine day. And what can life in town offer in +the way of pleasure to equal the delight of any one of the calm evenings +I have had this month sitting alone at the foot of the verandah steps, +with the perfume of young larches all about, and the May moon hanging +low over the beeches, and the beautiful silence made only more profound +in its peace by the croaking of distant frogs and hooting of owls? A +cockchafer darting by close to my ear with a loud hum sends a shiver +through me, partly of pleasure at the reminder of past summers, and +partly of fear lest he should get caught in my hair. The Man of Wrath +says they are pernicious creatures and should be killed. I would rather +get the killing done at the end of the summer and not crush them out of +such a pretty world at the very beginning of all the fun. + +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. My eldest baby, born in +April, is five years old, and the youngest, born in June, is three; +so that the discerning will at once be able to guess the age of the +remaining middle or May baby. While I was stooping over a group of +hollyhocks planted on the top of the only thing in the shape of a hill +the garden possesses, the April baby, who had been sitting pensive on a +tree stump close by, got up suddenly and began to run aimlessly about, +shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. I stared, +wondering what had come to her; and then I saw that a whole army of +young cows, pasturing in a field next to the garden, had got through the +hedge and were grazing perilously near my tea-roses and most precious +belongings. The nurse and I managed to chase them away, but not before +they had trampled down a border of pinks and lilies in the cruellest +way, and made great holes in a bed of China roses, and even begun to +nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am trying to persuade to climb +up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener happened to be ill in bed, and the +assistant was at vespers--as Lutheran Germany calls afternoon tea or its +equivalent--so the nurse filled up the holes as well as she could with +mould, burying the crushed and mangled roses, cheated for ever of their +hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking on dejectedly. The June +baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond her size and years, +seized a stick much bigger than herself and went after the cows, the +cowherd being nowhere to be seen. She planted herself in front of them +brandishing her stick, and they stood in a row and stared at her in +great astonishment; and she kept them off until one of the men from +the farm arrived with a whip, and having found the cowherd sleeping +peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. The cowherd is a +great hulking young man, much bigger than the man who beat him, but he +took his punishment as part of the day's work and made no remark of any +sort. It could not have hurt him much through his leather breeches, and +I think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work for a +strong young man with no brains looking after cows. Nobody with less +imagination than a poet ought to take it up as a profession. + +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two with +as many hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, +and while we were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I happened +to look up into its mazy green, and there, on a branch quite close to my +head, sat a little baby owl. I got on the seat and caught it easily, for +it could not fly, and how it had reached the branch at all is a mystery. +It is a little round ball of gray fluff, with the quaintest, wisest, +solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let it go, but the temptation +to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present on a journey, has seen it +was not to be resisted, as he has often said how much he would like to +have a young owl and try and tame it. So I put it into a roomy cage and +slung it up on a branch near where it had been sitting, and which cannot +be far from its nest and its mother. We had hardly subsided again to our +tea when I saw two more balls of fluff on the ground in the long grass +and scarcely distinguishable at a little distance from small mole-hills. +These were promptly united to their relation in the cage, and now when +the Man of Wrath comes home, not only shall he be welcomed by a wife +decked with the orthodox smiles, but by the three little longed-for +owls. Only it seems wicked to take them from their mother, and I know +that I shall let them go again some day--perhaps the very next time the +Man of Wrath goes on a journey. I put a small pot of water in the cage, +though they never could have tasted water yet unless they drink the +raindrops off the beech leaves. I suppose they get all the liquid they +need from the bodies of the mice and other dainties provided for them by +their fond parents. But the raindrop idea is prettier. + +May 15th.--How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls into a +cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never pander +to the Man of Wrath's wishes again. This morning I got up early to see +how they were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide open +and no owls to be seen. I thought of course that somebody had stolen +them--some boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. But +looking about I saw one perched high up in the branches of the beech +tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead on the ground. The third was +nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its nest. The parents must +have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance they got the door +open, and then dragged the little ones out and up into the tree. The +one that is dead must have been blown off the branch, as it was a windy +night and its neck is broken. There is one happy life less in the garden +to-day through my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm day--just the +sort of weather for young soft things to enjoy and grow in. The babies +are greatly distressed, and are digging a grave, and preparing funeral +wreaths of dandelions. + +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out +I breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give +him the owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry +I was they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on after +the voluble manner of women. + +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, "I am surprised +at such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had +never done you any harm." + +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than +ever that he sang true who sang-- + + Two paradises 'twere in one to live in Paradise alone. + + +May 16th.--The garden is the place I go to for refuge and shelter, not +the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, servants to exhort +and admonish, furniture, and meals; but out there blessings crowd round +me at every step--it is there that I am sorry for the unkindness in me, +for those selfish thoughts that are so much worse than they feel; it +is there that all my sins and silliness are forgiven, there that I feel +protected and at home, and every flower and weed is a friend and every +tree a lover. When I have been vexed I run out to them for comfort, +and when I have been angry without just cause, it is there that I find +absolution. Did ever a woman have so many friends? And always the same, +always ready to welcome me and fill me with cheerful thoughts. Happy +children of a common Father, why should I, their own sister, be less +content and joyous than they? Even in a thunder storm, when other people +are running into the house, I run out of it. I do not like thunder +storms--they frighten me for hours before they come, because I always +feel them on the way; but it is odd that I should go for shelter to the +garden. I feel better there, more taken care of, more petted. When +it thunders, the April baby says, "There's lieber Gott scolding those +angels again." And once, when there was a storm in the night, she +complained loudly, and wanted to know why lieber Gott didn't do the +scolding in the daytime, as she had been so tight asleep. They all three +speak a wonderful mixture of German and English, adulterating the purity +of their native tongue by putting in English words in the middle of a +German sentence. It always reminds me of Justice tempered by Mercy. We +have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by the name of +the Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground of innumerable +deer who fight there in the autumn evenings, calling each other out to +combat with bayings that ring through the silence and send agreeable +shivers through the lonely listener. I often walk there in September, +late in the evening, and sitting on a fallen tree listen fascinated to +their angry cries. + +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had never seen +such things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. The Hirschwald is +a little open wood of silver birches and springy turf starred with +flowers, and there is a tiny stream meandering amiably about it and +decking itself in June with yellow flags. I have dreams of having a +little cottage built there, with the daisies up to the door, and no path +of any sort--just big enough to hold myself and one baby inside and a +purple clematis outside. Two rooms--a bedroom and a kitchen. How scared +we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! I know the exact +spot where it should stand, facing south-east, so that we should get +all the cheerfulness of the morning, and close to the stream, so that we +might wash our plates among the flags. Sometimes, when in the mood for +society, we would invite the remaining babies to tea and entertain them +with wild strawberries on plates of horse-chestnut leaves; but no one +less innocent and easily pleased than a baby would be permitted to +darken the effulgence of our sunny cottage--indeed, I don't suppose that +anybody wiser would care to come. Wise people want so many things +before they can even begin to enjoy themselves, and I feel perpetually +apologetic when with them, for only being able to offer them that +which I love best myself--apologetic, and ashamed of being so easily +contented. + +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town (it took us the +whole afternoon to get there) the women after dinner were curious to +know how I had endured the winter, cut off from everybody and snowed up +sometimes for weeks. + +"Ah, these husbands!" sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking her +head; "they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don't care +what their sufferings are." + +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady +was a great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful +husband had brought his young wife into the country and had kept her +there, concealing her beauty and accomplishments from the public in a +most cruel manner, and how, after spending a certain number of years in +alternately weeping and producing progeny, she had quite lately run away +with somebody unspeakable--I think it was the footman, or the baker, or +some one of that sort. + +"But I am quite happy," I began, as soon as I could put in a word. + +"Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it," and the female +potentate patted my hand, but continued gloomily to shake her head. + +"You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone," asserted +another lady, the wife of a high military authority and not accustomed +to be contradicted. + +"But I am." + +"But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible." + +"But I _am_." + +"Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter." + +"But I don't want to be brought to town." + +"And not let you waste your best years buried." "But I like being +buried." + +"Such solitude is not right." + +"But I'm not solitary." + +"And can come to no good." She was getting quite angry. + +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, and renewed shaking +of heads. + +"I enjoyed the winter immensely," I persisted when they were a little +quieter; "I sleighed and skated, and then there were the children, and +shelves and shelves full of--" I was going to say books, but stopped. +Reading is an occupation for men; for women it is reprehensible waste of +time. And how could I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the sun +shone on the snow, or of the deep delight of hear-frost days? + +"It is entirely my doing that we have come down here," I proceeded, "and +my husband only did it to please me." + +"Such a good little wife," repeated the patronising potentate, again +patting my hand with an air of understanding all about it, "really an +excellent little wife. But you must not let your husband have his own +way too much, my dear, and take my advice and insist on his bringing you +to town next winter." And then they fell to talking about their cooks, +having settled to their entire satisfaction that my fate was probably +lying in wait for me too, lurking perhaps at that very moment behind the +apparently harmless brass buttons of the man in the hall with my cloak. + +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction +when we reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the +pretty old house; and when I went into the library, with its four +windows open to the moonlight and the scent, and looked round at the +familiar bookshelves, and could hear no sounds but sounds of peace, and +knew that here I might read or dream or idle exactly as I chose with +never a creature to disturb me, how grateful I felt to the kindly Fate +that has brought me here and given me a heart to understand my own +blessedness, and rescued me from a life like that I had just seen--a +life spent with the odours of other people's dinners in one's nostrils, +and the noise of their wrangling servants in one's ears, and parties and +tattle for all amusement. + +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed when some +grand person, examining the details of my home through her eyeglass, and +coolly dissecting all that I so much prize from the convenient distance +of the open window, has finished up by expressing sympathy with my +loneliness, and on my protesting that I like it, has murmured, "sebr +anspruchslos." Then indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness of my +wants; but only for a moment, and only under the withering influence of +the eyeglass; for, after all, the owner's spirit is the same spirit as +that which dwells in my servants--girls whose one idea of happiness +is to live in a town where there are others of their sort with whom to +drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. The passion for being for +ever with one's fellows, and the fear of being left for a few hours +alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. I can entertain myself quite +well for weeks together, hardly aware, except for the pervading peace, +that I have been alone at all. Not but what I like to have people +staying with me for a few days, or even for a few weeks, should they be +as anspruchslos as I am myself, and content with simple joys; only, any +one who comes here and would be happy must have something in him; if he +be a mere blank creature, empty of head and heart, he will very probably +find it dull. I should like my house to be often full if I could find +people capable of enjoying themselves. They should be welcomed and sped +with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to confess that, though it +pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just as much to see them go. + +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually longed +for some one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. There has been +rain in the night, and the whole garden seems to be singing--not the +untiring birds only, but the vigorous plants, the happy grass and trees, +the lilac bushes--oh, those lilac bushes! They are all out to-day, and +the garden is drenched with the scent. I have brought in armfuls, the +picking is such a delight, and every pot and bowl and tub in the house +is filled with purple glory, and the servants think there is going to be +a party and are extra nimble, and I go from room to room gazing at the +sweetness, and the windows are all flung open so as to join the scent +within to the scent without; and the servants gradually discover that +there is no party, and wonder why the house should be filled with +flowers for one woman by herself, and I long more and more for a kindred +spirit--it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself--but +kindred spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as well cry +for the moon. It is true that my garden is full of friends, only they +are--dumb. + + +June 3rd.--This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that +it requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus +delivered from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, +or people who love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to +be deterred from coming by the roundabout train journey and the long +drive at the end. Not the least of my many blessings is that we have +only one neighbour. If you have to have neighbours at all, it is at +least a mercy that there should be only one; for with people dropping in +at all hours and wanting to talk to you, how are you to get on with your +life, I should like to know, and read your books, and dream your dreams +to your satisfaction? Besides, there is always the certainty that either +you or the dropper-in will say something that would have been better +left unsaid, and I have a holy horror of gossip and mischief-making. A +woman's tongue is a deadly weapon and the most difficult thing in the +world to keep in order, and things slip off it with a facility nothing +short of appalling at the very moment when it ought to be most quiet. +In such cases the only safe course is to talk steadily about cooks and +children, and to pray that the visit may not be too prolonged, for if it +is you are lost. Cooks I have found to be the best of all subjects--the +most phlegmatic flush into life at the mere word, and the joys and +sufferings connected with them are experiences common to us all. + +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, with +a whole troop of flaxenhaired little children to keep them occupied, +besides the business of their large estate. Our intercourse is arranged +on lines of the most beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, +and she returns the call a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner in the +summer, and we ask them to dinner in the winter. By strictly keeping +to this, we avoid all danger of that closer friendship which is only +another name for frequent quarrels. She is a pattern of what a German +country lady should be, and is not only a pretty woman but an energetic +and practical one, and the combination is, to say the least, effective. +She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the stock, the +butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; a thousand things +get done while most people are fast asleep, and before lazy folk are +well at breakfast she is off in her pony-carriage to the other farms on +the place, to rate the "mamsells," as the head women are called, to poke +into every corner, lift the lids off the saucepans, count the new-laid +eggs, and box, if necessary, any careless dairymaid's ears. We are +allowed by law to administer "slight corporal punishment" to our +servants, it being left entirely to individual taste to decide what +"slight" shall be, and my neighbour really seems to enjoy using this +privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. I would give much +to be able to peep through a keyhole and see the dauntless little lady, +terrible in her wrath and dignity, standing on tiptoe to box the ears of +some great strapping girl big enough to eat her. + +The making of cheese and butter and sausages _excellently_ well is a +work which requires brains, and is, to my thinking, a very admirable +form of activity, and entirely worthy of the attention of the +intelligent. That my neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident +by the bright alertness of her eyes--eyes that nothing escapes, and that +only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose. She is +a recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries of +sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; and +with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home, her +children are patterns of health and neatness, and of what dear little +German children, with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick +legs, should be. Who shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and +unworthy of a high order of intelligence? I protest that to me it is +a beautiful life, full of wholesome outdoor work, and with no room for +those listless moments of depression and boredom, and of wondering what +you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a pretty woman's eyes, +and are not unknown even to the most brilliant. But while admiring my +neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my +talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather of +that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a +volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting +on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of +everything but green pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing +of the wind across the joyous fields. And it would make me perfectly +wretched to be confronted by ears so refractory as to require boxing. + +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it is on these +occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is, and +how far away from his neighbour; and while they talk (generally about +babies, past, present, and to come), I fall to wondering at the vast and +impassable distance that separates one's own soul from the soul of +the person sitting in the next chair. I am speaking of comparative +strangers, people who are forced to stay a certain time by the +eccentricities of trains, and in whose presence you grope about after +common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that you +have none. Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute +more benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in the air +and look vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of wondering +who they most take after, generally settling the question by saying that +the May baby, who is the beauty, is like her father, and that the two +more or less plain ones are the image of me, and this decision, though +I know it of old and am sure it is coming, never fails to depress me as +much as though I heard it for the first time. The babies are very little +and inoffensive and good, and it is hard that they should be used as a +means of filling up gaps in conversation, and their features pulled to +pieces one by one, and all their weak points noted and criticised, +while they stand smiling shyly in the operator's face, their very smile +drawing forth comments on the shape of their mouths; but, after all, it +does not occur very often, and they are one of those few interests one +has in common with other people, as everybody seems to have babies. A +garden, I have discovered, is by no means a fruitful topic, and it is +amazing how few persons really love theirs--they all pretend they +do, but you can hear by the very tone of their voice what a lukewarm +affection it is. About June their interest is at its warmest, nourished +by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses; but on reflection I +don't know a single person within twenty miles who really cares for his +garden, or has discovered the treasures of happiness that are buried in +it, and are to be found if sought for diligently, and if needs be with +tears. It is after these rare calls that I experience the only moments +of depression from which I ever suffer, and then I am angry at myself, a +well-nourished person, for allowing even a single precious hour of life +to be spoil: by anything so indifferent. That is the worst of being fed +enough, and clothed enough, and warmed enough, and of having everything +you can reasonably desire--on the least provocation you are made +uncomfortable and unhappy by such abstract discomforts as being shut out +from a nearer approach to your neighbour's soul; which is on the face of +it foolish, the probability being that he hasn't got one. + +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, put them +right along the very front of two borders, and I don't know what his +feelings can be now that they are all flowering and the plants behind +are completely hidden; but I have learned another lesson, and no future +gardener shall be allowed to run riot among my rockets in quite so +reckless a fashion. They are charming things, as delicate in colour as +in scent, and a bowl of them on my writing-table fills the room with +fragrance. Single rows, however, are a mistake; I had masses of them +planted in the grass, and these show how lovely they can be. A border +full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, must be beautiful; +but I don't know how long they last nor what they look like when they +have done flowering. This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. +Was ever a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? No +doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to +learn solely by my failures, and if I had some kind creature to tell +me when to do things. At present the only flowers in the garden are the +rockets, the pansies in the rose beds, and two groups of azaleas--mollis +and pontica. The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous; I only +planted them this spring and they almost at once began to flower, and +the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were filled with +imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. Orange, lemon, pink in every delicate +shade--what they will be next year and in succeeding years when the +bushes are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. On +gray, dull days the effect is absolutely startling. Next autumn I shall +make a great bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a +gloomy nook. My tea-roses are covered with buds which will not open for +at least another week, so I conclude this is not the sort of climate +where they will flower from the very beginning of June to November, as +they are said to do. + +July 11th.--There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday, +five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad soon +after Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took to going +about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, explaining +that he felt safer that way, and we bore it quite patiently, as becomes +civilised beings who respect each other's prejudices, until one day, +when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper--and after he bought +the revolver my tones in addressing him were of the mildest, and I quite +left off reading to him aloud--he turned round, looked me straight in +the face for the first time since he has been here, and said, "Do I look +like Graf X---- ----(a great local celebrity), or like a monkey?" +After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as +expeditiously as possible. There was no gardener to be had in his place, +and I have only just succeeded in getting one; so that what with the +drought, and the neglect, and the gardener's madness, and my blunders, +the garden is in a sad condition; but even in a sad condition it is +the dearest place in the world, and all my mistakes only make me more +determined to persevere. + +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. The +rockets have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets: in other +walks of life, have degenerated into sticks; and nothing else in those +borders intends to bloom this summer. The giant poppies I had planted +out in them in April have either died off or remained quite small, and +so have the columbines; here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly, +and that is all. I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved, or perhaps +they were not watered enough at the time of transplanting; anyhow, those +borders are going to be sown to-morrow with more poppies for next year; +for poppies I will have, whether they like it or not, and they shall not +be touched, only thinned out. + +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I come out and +sit under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, and see the sunshine +on the cornfields away on the plain, all the disappointment smooths +itself out, and it seems impossible to be sad and discontented when +everything about me is so radiant and kind. + +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in this +shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across the +grass, and listening to the rooks quarrelling in the treetops, I almost +expect to hear English church bells ringing for the afternoon service. +But the church is three miles off, has no bells, and no afternoon +service. Once a fortnight we go to morning prayer at eleven and sit +up in a sort of private box with a room behind, whither we can retire +unobserved when the sermon is too long or our flesh too weak, and hear +ourselves being prayed for by the blackrobed parson. In winter the +church is bitterly cold; it is not heated, and we sit muffled up in +more furs than ever we wear out of doors; but it would of course be very +wicked for the parson to wear furs, however cold he may be, so he +puts on a great many extra coats under his gown, and, as the winter +progresses, swells to a prodigious size. We know when spring is coming +by the reduction in his figure. The congregation sit at ease while +the parson does the praying for them, and while they are droning the +long-drawn-out chorales, he retires into a little wooden box just big +enough to hold him. He does not come out until he thinks we have sung +enough, nor do we stop until his appearance gives us the signal. I have +often thought how dreadful it would be if he fell ill in his box and +left us to go on singing. I am sure we should never dare to stop, +unauthorised by the Church. I asked him once what he did in there; he +looked very shocked at such a profane question, and made an evasive +reply. + +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a terrible +day; but in the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief and more +profound peace, nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; only the little +flowers themselves and the whispering trees. + +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors--not stray callers +to be got rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are +sorry afterwards that you said, but people staying in the house and not +to be got rid of at all. All June was lost to me in this way, and it +was from first to last a radiant month of heat and beauty; but a garden +where you meet the people you saw at breakfast, and will see again at +lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy in. Besides, they had a +knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in them just when +I longed to lounge myself; and they took books out of the library with +them, and left them face downwards on the seats all night to get well +drenched with dew, though they might have known that what is meat for +roses is poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they +had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long +ago--whereas I don't believe a garden ever is finished. They have all +gone now, thank heaven, except one, so that I have a little breathing +space before others begin to arrive. It seems that the place interests +people, and that there is a sort of novelty in staying in such a +deserted corner of the world, for they were in a perpetual state of mild +amusement at being here at all. Irais is the only one left. She is a +young woman with a beautiful, refined face, and her eyes and straight, +fine eyebrows are particularly lovable. At meals she dips her bread +into the salt-cellar, bites a bit off, and repeats the process, although +providence (taking my shape) has caused salt-spoons to be placed +at convenient intervals down the table. She lunched to-day on beer, +Schweine-koteletten, and cabbage-salad with caraway seeds in it, and now +I hear her through the open window, extemporising touching melodies +in her charming, cooing voice. She is thin, frail, intelligent, and +lovable, all on the above diet. What better proof can be needed to +establish the superiority of the Teuton than the fact that after such +meals he can produce such music? Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, +but I don't doubt its utility as a means of encouraging thoughtfulness; +nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so poetically, any more +than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, and I give it to +Irais every day to make her sing. She is the sweetest singer I have ever +heard, and has a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along. +When she begins, I go and lean out of the window and look at my little +friends out there in the borders while listening to her music, and feel +full of pleasant sadness and regret. It is so sweet to be sad when one +has nothing to be sad about. + +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, the others +hurrying along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed for my +admiration three brand-new kittens, lean and blind, that she was +carrying in her pinafore, and that had just been found motherless in the +woodshed. + +"Look," she cried breathlessly, "such a much!" + +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once before +this afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself down on +the grass at my feet, to ask about the lieber Gott, it being Sunday and +her pious little nurse's conversation having run, as it seems, on heaven +and angels. + +Her questions about the lieber Gott are better left unrecorded, and I +was relieved when she began about the angels. + +"What do they wear for clothes?" she asked in her German-English. + +"Why, you've seen them in pictures," I answered, "in beautiful, long +dresses, and with big, white wings." "Feathers?" she asked. + +"I suppose so,--and long dresses, all white and beautiful." + +"Are they girlies?" + +"Girls? Ye--es." + +"Don't boys go into the Himmel?" + +"Yes, of course, if they're good." + +"And then what do _they_ wear?" "Why, the same as all the other angels, +I suppose." + +"Dwesses?" + +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me of +making jokes. "What a funny Mummy!" she said, evidently much amused. She +has a fat little laugh that is very infectious. + +"I think," said I, gravely, "you had better go and play with the other +babies." + +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began +writing again. + +"Mummy," she said presently. + +"Well?" + +"Where do the angels get their dwesses?" + +I hesitated. "From lieber Gott," I said. + +"Are there shops in the Himmel?" + +"Shops? No." + +"But, then, where does lieber Gott buy their dwesses?" + +"Now run away like a good baby; I'm busy." + +"But you said yesterday, when I asked about lieber Gott, that you would +tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about Him." + +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with a +sigh. "Call the others, then." + +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one +after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The +April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the +other two had to sit on the grass. + +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. The +April baby's eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder +and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in +the story--the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly +listening. I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and +announced that that was all, when she burst out, "Now I'll tell about +it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had plenty of +clothes, and there was no snake, and lieber Gott wasn't angry with them, +and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy for ever +and ever--there now!" + +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. + +"But that's not the story," I said rather helplessly. "Yes, yes! It's a +much nicelier one! Now another." + +"But these stories are true," I said severely; "and it's no use my +telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards." + +"Another! another!" she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled +energy, all her silvery curls flying. + +I began about Noah and the flood. + +"Did it rain so badly?" she asked with a face of the deepest concern and +interest. + +"Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks----" + +"And was everybody so wet?" + +"Yes--" + +"But why didn't they open their umbwellas?" + +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. + +"I'll tell you the rest another time," I said, putting her off my knee, +greatly relieved; "you must all go to Anna now and have tea." + +"I don't like Anna," remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened +her lips; "she is a stupid girl." + +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for, +besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not +to hurt any one's feelings, they had been brought up to love and respect +their kind little nurse. + +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger, +pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. "Such a child will never +go into the Himmel," she said with great emphasis, and the air of one +who delivers judgment. + + +September 15th.--This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, and +blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea under +the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in the +library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon and +blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit +cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath shoots +partridges across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as though it +would dream on for ever. It is hard to believe that in three months we +shall probably be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling +about this month that reminds me of March and the early days of April, +when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden holds +its breath in expectation. There is the same mildness in the air, and +the sky and grass have the same look as then; but the leaves tell +a different tale, and the reddening creeper on the house is rapidly +approaching its last and loveliest glory. + +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, +and the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most +beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, +each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at +the base to a yellow-white. I have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses +for planting next month, half of which are Viscountess Folkestones, +because the tea-roses have such a way of hanging their little heads +that one has to kneel down to be able to see them well in the dwarf +forms--not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such perfect +beauty, only it dirties one's clothes. So I am going to put standards +down each side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the +flowers on a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they +will stand the winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so difficult +to pack up snugly. The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have been, as I +predicted, a mistake among the tea-roses; they only flower twice in the +season and all the rest of the time look dull and moping; and then the +Persian Yellows have such an odd smell and so many insects inside them +eating them up. I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to put in their place, +as they all come out next month and are to be grouped in the grass; and +the semicircle being immediately under the windows, besides having the +best position in the place, must be reserved solely for my choicest +treasures. I have had a great many disappointments, but feel as though +I were really beginning to learn. Humility, and the most patient +perseverance, seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and +sunshine, and every failure must be used as a stepping-stone to +something better. + +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal about gardening and +has had much practical experience. When I heard he was coming, I felt +I wanted to put my arms right round my garden and hide it from him; but +what was my surprise and delight when he said, after having gone all +over it, "Well, I think you have done wonders." Dear me, how pleased I +was! It was so entirely unexpected, and such a complete novelty after +the remarks I have been listening to all the summer. I could have hugged +that discerning and indulgent critic, able to look beyond the result to +the intention, and appreciating the difficulties of every kind that +had been in the way. After that I opened my heart to him, and listened +reverently to all he had to say, and treasured up his kind and +encouraging advice, and wished he could stay here a whole year and help +me through the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, +and he was the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. + +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able to come to me, +while I can at any time fill the house with visitors about whom I know +little and care less. Perhaps, if I saw more of those absent ones, I +would not love them so well--at least, that is what I think on wet days +when the wind is howling round the house and all nature is overcome with +grief; and it has actually happened once or twice when great friends +have been staying with me that I have wished, when they left, I might +not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose the fact is, that +no friendship can stand the breakfast test, and here, in the country, +we invariably think it our duty to appear at breakfast. Civilisation has +done away with curl-papers, yet at that hour the soul of the Hausfrau +is as tightly screwed up in them as was ever her grandmother's hair; and +though my body comes down mechanically, having been trained that way by +punctual parents, my soul never thinks of beginning to wake up for other +people till lunch-time, and never does so completely till it has been +taken out of doors and aired in the sunshine. Who can begin conventional +amiability the first thing in the morning? It is the hour of savage +instincts and natural tendencies; it is the triumph of the Disagreeable +and the Cross. I am convinced that the Muses and the Graces never +thought of having breakfast anywhere but in bed. + + +November 11th.--When the gray November weather came, and hung its soft +dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown of the ploughed fields and +the vivid emerald of the stretches of winter corn, the heavy stillness +weighed my heart down to a forlorn yearning after the pleasant things +of childhood, the petting, the comforting, the warming faith in the +unfailing wisdom of elders. A great need of something to lean on, and a +great weariness of independence and responsibility took possession of my +soul; and looking round for support and comfort in that transitory mood, +the emptiness of the present and the blankness of the future sent me +back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I not go and see the +place where I was born, and where I lived so long; the place where I was +so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, so close to heaven, +so near to hell, always either up on a cloud of glory, or down in the +depths with the waters of despair closing over my head? Cousins live in +it now, distant cousins, loved with the exact measure of love usually +bestowed on cousins who reign in one's stead; cousins of practical +views, who have dug up the flower-beds and planted cabbages where roses +grew; and though through all the years since my father's death I have +held my head so high that it hurt, and loftily refused to listen to +their repeated suggestions that I should revisit my old home, something +in the sad listlessness of the November days sent my spirit back to old +times with a persistency that would not be set aside, and I woke from +my musings surprised to find myself sick with longing. It is foolish +but natural to quarrel with one's cousins, and especially foolish and +natural when they have done nothing, and are mere victims of chance. +Is it their fault that my not being a boy placed the shoes I should +otherwise have stepped into at their disposal? I know it is not; but +their blamelessness does not make me love them more. "Noch ein dummes +Frauenzimmer!" cried my father, on my arrival into the world--he +had three of them already, and I was his last hope,--and a dummes +Frauenzimmer I have remained ever since; and that is why for years I +would have no dealings with the cousins in possession, and that is why, +the other day, overcome by the tender influence of the weather, the +purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood was +enough to send all my pride to the winds, and to start me off without +warning and without invitation on my pilgrimage. + +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had lived in the +Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome. The +pilgrims, leaving all their cares at home, the anxieties of their riches +or their debts, the wife that worried and the children that disturbed, +took only their sins with them, and turning their backs on their +obligations, set out with that sole burden, and perhaps a cheerful +heart. How cheerful my heart would have been, starting on a fine +morning, with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by the +approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious blessings of my +family, with every step getting farther from the suffocation of daily +duties, out into the wide fresh world, out into the glorious free world, +so poor, so penitent, and so happy! My dream, even now, is to walk for +weeks with some friend that I love, leisurely wandering from place to +place, with no route arranged and no object in view, with liberty to +go on all day or to linger all day, as we choose; but the question of +luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, is one of the rocks on which +my plans have been shipwrecked, and the other is the certain censure of +relatives, who, not fond of walking themselves, and having no taste for +noonday naps under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my plans before +they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry, "How very +unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!" The relative of five +hundred years back would simply have said, "How holy!" + +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages--indeed, it is evident +that I have it from him--and he encouraged it in me when I was little, +taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a +boy. Often have we been together to the school he was at in Brandenburg, +and spent pleasant days wandering about the old town on the edge of one +of those lakes that lie in a chain in that wide green plain; and often +have we been in Potsdam, where he was quartered as a lieutenant, the +Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods around and in the +gardens of Sans Souci, with the second volume of Carlyle's Frederick +under my father's arm; and often did we spend long summer days at the +house in the Mark, at the head of the same blue chain of lakes, where +his mother spent her young years, and where, though it belonged to +cousins, like everything else that was worth having, we could wander +about as we chose, for it was empty, and sit in the deep windows of +rooms where there was no furniture, and the painted Venuses and cupids +on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly and stretched their futile +wreaths above the emptiness beneath. And while we sat and rested, my +father told me, as my grandmother had a hundred times told him, all that +had happened in those rooms in the far-off days when people danced +and sang and laughed through life, and nobody seemed ever to be old or +sorry. + +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone's throw of the great iron +gates, with two very old lime trees in front of it, where we used to +lunch on our arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue check +cloth, the lime blossoms dropping into our soup, and the bees humming in +the scented shadows overhead. I have a picture of the house by my side +as I write, done from the lake in old times, with a boat full of ladies +in hoops and powder in the foreground, and a youth playing a guitar. The +pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the best. + +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories to tell +a little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, or hung over +the stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, or picked the pale +dog-roses in the hedges, or lay in the boat in a shady reed-grown +bay while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off, were after all only +traditions, imparted to me in small doses from time to time, when his +earnest desire not to raise his remarks above the level of dulness +supposed to be wholesome for Backfische was neutralised by an impulse +to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh; whereas the place I +was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with living, first-hand +memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and eighteen. +How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me the +older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since; and +though I have forgotten most of what happened six months ago, every +incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years is perfectly +distinct in my memory. + +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether cousinly in my +behaviour towards the people in possession. The invitations to revisit +the old home had ceased. The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and +had left me alone. I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so +long since I had had any news. For two days I fought against the strong +desire to go there that had suddenly seized me, and assured myself that +I would not go, that it would be absurd to go, undignified, sentimental, +and silly, that I did not know them and would be in an awkward position, +and that I was old enough to know better. But who can foretell from +one hour to the next what a woman will do? And when does she ever know +better? On the third morning I set out as hopefully as though it were +the most natural thing in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto +consistently neglected cousins, and expect to be received with open +arms. + +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. During the first +part, when it was still dark, I glowed with enthusiasm, with the spirit +of adventure, with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved +place again; and thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to +pass since last I was there. Of what I should say to the cousins, and of +how I should introduce myself into their midst, I did not think at all: +the pilgrim spirit was upon me, the unpractical spirit that takes +no thought for anything, but simply wanders along enjoying its own +emotions. It was a quiet, sad morning, and there was a thick mist. By +the time I was in the little train on the light railway that passed +through the village nearest my old home, I had got over my first +enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically examining the +changes that had been made in the last ten years. It was so misty that +I could see nothing of the familiar country from the carriage windows, +only the ghosts of pines in the front row of the forests; but the +railway itself was a new departure, unknown in our day, when we used +to drive over ten miles of deep, sandy forest roads to and from the +station, and although most people would have called it an evident and +great improvement, it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal and +energy of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he should +require more conveniences than my father had found needful? It was no +use my telling myself that in my father's time the era of light railways +had not dawned, and that if it had, we should have done our utmost to +secure one; the thought of my cousin, stepping into my shoes, and then +altering them, was odious to me. By the time I was walking up the hill +from the station I had got over this feeling too, and had entered a +third stage of wondering uneasily what in the world I should do next. +Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started? At the top of +the first hill I sat down to consider this question in detail, for I was +very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. Where, indeed, was the +courage and joy of the morning? It had vanished so completely that I +could only suppose that it must be lunch time, the observations of years +having led to the discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly +affrighted on the approach of lunch, and none fly quicker than courage. +So I ate the lunch I had brought with me, hoping that it was what I +wanted; but it was chilly, made up of sandwiches and pears, and it had +to be eaten under a tree at the edge of a field; and it was November, +and the mist was thicker than ever and very wet--the grass was wet +with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, I was wet with it, and the +sandwiches were wet with it. Nobody's spirits can keep up under such +conditions; and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, I deplored the headlong +courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm, dry home +where I was appreciated, and had brought me first to the damp tree in +the damp field, and when I had finished my lunch and dessert of cold +pears, was going to drag me into the midst of a circle of unprepared and +astonished cousins. Vast sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off. +The sheep dog kept up a perpetual, irritating yap. In the fog I could +hardly tell where I was, though I knew I must have played there a +hundred times as a child. After the fashion of woman directly she is +not perfectly warm and perfectly comfortable, I began to consider the +uncertainty of human life, and to shake my head in gloomy approval as +lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves to my mind. + +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want to do anything, to do +it in the way consecrated by custom, more especially if you are a woman. +The rattle of a carriage along the road just behind me, and the fact +that I started and turned suddenly hot, drove this truth home to my +soul. The mist hid me, and the carriage, no doubt full of cousins, drove +on in the direction of the house; but what an absurd position I was in! +Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, and revealed me lunching in the +wet on their property, the cousin of the short and lofty letters, the +unangenehme Elisabeth! "Die war doch immer verdreht," I could imagine +them hastily muttering to each other, before advancing wreathed in +welcoming smiles. It gave me a great shock, this narrow escape, and I +got on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch under the +gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, asked myself nervously +what I proposed to do next. Should I walk back to the village, go to the +Gasthof, write a letter craving permission to call on my cousins, and +wait there till an answer came? It would be a discreet and sober course +to pursue; the next best thing to having written before leaving home. +But the Gasthof of a north German village is a dreadful place, and the +remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge once from a thunderstorm +was still so vivid that nature itself cried out against this plan. The +mist, if anything, was growing denser. I knew every path and gate in the +place. What if I gave up all hope of seeing the house, and went through +the little door in the wall at the bottom of the garden, and confined +myself for this once to that? In such weather I would be able to wander +round as I pleased, without the least risk of being seen by or meeting +any cousins, and it was after all the garden that lay nearest my heart. +What a delight it would be to creep into it unobserved, and revisit all +the corners I so well remembered, and slip out again and get away safely +without any need of explanations, assurances, protestations, displays +of affection, without any need, in a word, of that exhausting form +of conversation, so dear to relations, known as Redensarten! The mist +tempted me. I think if it had been a fine day I would have gone soberly +to the Gasthof and written the conciliatory letter; but the temptation +was too great, it was altogether irresistible, and in ten minutes I had +found the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and was standing with a +beating heart in the garden of my childhood. + +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same +potency as those that ran through me at that moment. First of all I was +trespassing, which is in itself thrilling; but how much more thrilling +when you are trespassing on what might just as well have been your own +ground, on what actually was for years your own ground, and when you are +in deadly peril of seeing the rightful owners, whom you have never +met, but with whom you have quarrelled, appear round the corner, and +of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness "I do +not think I have the pleasure--?" Then the place was unchanged. I was +standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had +always been just there; they curled away on either side among the +shrubs, with the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of their +green stains, just as they did in my day. The overgrown lilac bushes +still met above my head. The moisture dripped from the same ledge in +the wall on to the sodden leaves beneath, as it had done all through the +afternoons of all those past Novembers. This was the place, this damp +and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to me. Nobody ever +came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, and in summer so full of +mosquitoes that only a Backfisch indifferent to spots could have borne +it. But it was a place where I could play unobserved, and where I could +walk up and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the +air. There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, much +frequented by the larger black slug, where I used to pass glorious +afternoons making plans. I was for ever making plans, and if nothing +came of them, what did it matter? The mere making had been a joy. To +me this out-of-the-way corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious +place, where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant rows, +and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; for the +hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all enchanted. + +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, I forgot the existence +of the cousins. I could have cried for joy at being there again. It was +the home of my fathers, the home that would have been mine if I had been +a boy, the home that was mine now by a thousand tender and happy and +miserable associations, of which the people in possession could not +dream. They were tenants, but it was my home. I threw my arms round the +trunk of a very wet fir tree, every branch of which I remembered, for +had I not climbed it, and fallen from it, and torn and bruised myself on +it uncountable numbers of times? and I gave it such a hearty kiss that +my nose and chin were smudged into one green stain, and still I did not +care. Far from caring, it filled me with a reckless, Backfisch pleasure +in being dirty, a delicious feeling that I had not had for years. Alice +in Wonderland, after she had drunk the contents of the magic bottle, +could not have grown smaller more suddenly than I grew younger the +moment I passed through that magic door. Bad habits cling to us, +however, with such persistency that I did mechanically pull out my +handkerchief and begin to rub off the welcoming smudge, a thing I never +would have dreamed of doing in the glorious old days; but an artful +scent of violets clinging to the handkerchief brought me to my senses, +and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for scent of every +honest Backfisch, I rolled it up into a ball and flung it away into the +bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment. "Away with you," I cried, +"away with you, symbol of conventionality, of slavery, of pandering to +a desire to please--away with you, miserable little lace-edged rag!" +And so young had I grown within the last few minutes that I did not even +feel silly. + +As a Backfisch I had never used handkerchiefs--the child of nature +scorns to blow its nose--though for decency's sake my governess insisted +on giving me a clean one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. +It was stowed away unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, where +it was gradually pressed into a beautiful compactness by the other +contents, which were knives. After a while, I remember, the handkerchief +being brought to light on Sundays to make room for a successor, and +being manifestly perfectly clean, we came to an agreement that it +should only be changed on the first and third Sundays in the month, on +condition that I promised to turn it on the other Sundays. My governess +said that the outer folds became soiled from the mere contact with the +other things in my pocket, and that visitors might catch sight of the +soiled side if it was never turned when I wished to blow my nose in +their presence, and that one had no right to give one's visitors shocks. +"But I never do wish----" I began with great earnestness. "Unsinn," said +my governess, cutting me short. + +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, the +profound stillness of the dripping little shrubbery frightened me. It +was so still that I was afraid to move; so still, that I could count +each drop of moisture falling from the oozing wall; so still, that when +I held my breath to listen, I was deafened by my own heart-beats. I made +a step forward in the direction where the arbour ought to be, and the +rustling and jingling of my clothes terrified me into immobility. The +house was only two hundred yards off; and if any one had been about, +the noise I had already made opening the creaking door and so foolishly +apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. Suppose an +inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, should presently loom through +the fog, bearing down upon me? Suppose Fraulein Wundermacher should +pounce upon me suddenly from behind, coming up noiselessly in her +galoshes, and shatter my castles with her customary triumphant "Fetzt +halte ich dich aber fest!" Why, what was I thinking of? Fraulein +Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such an enemy of day-dreams, such +a friend of das Praktische, such a lover of creature comforts, had died +long ago, had been succeeded long ago by others, German sometimes, and +sometimes English, and sometimes at intervals French, and they too had +all in their turn vanished, and I was here a solitary ghost. "Come, +Elizabeth," said I to myself impatiently, "are you actually growing +sentimental over your governesses? If you think you are a ghost, be glad +at least that you are a solitary one. Would you like the ghosts of +all those poor women you tormented to rise up now in this gloomy place +against you? And do you intend to stand here till you are caught?" And +thus exhorting myself to action, and recognising how great was the risk +I ran in lingering, I started down the little path leading to the arbour +and the principal part of the garden, going, it is true, on tiptoe, and +very much frightened by the rustling of my petticoats, but determined to +see what I had come to see and not to be scared away by phantoms. + +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the petticoats of my +youth, so short, so silent, and so woollen! And how convenient the +canvas shoes were with the india rubber soles, for creeping about +without making a sound! Thanks to them I could always run swiftly and +unheard into my hiding-places, and stay there listening to the garden +resounding with cries of "Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come in at once to your +lessons!" Or, at a different period, "Ou etes-vous donc, petite sotte?" +Or at yet another period, "Warte nur, wenn ich dich erst habe!" As the +voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless clothes round +the next, and it was only Fraulein Wundermacher, a person of resource, +who discovered that all she needed for my successful circumvention was +galoshes. She purchased a pair, wasted no breath calling me, and would +come up silently, as I stood lapped in a false security lost in the +contemplation of a squirrel or a robin, and seize me by the shoulders +from behind, to the grievous unhinging of my nerves. Stealing along +in the fog, I looked back uneasily once or twice, so vivid was this +disquieting memory, and could hardly be reassured by putting up my hand +to the elaborate twists and curls that compose what my maid calls my +Frisur, and that mark the gulf lying between the present and the past; +for it had happened once or twice, awful to relate and to remember, that +Fraulein Wundermacher, sooner than let me slip through her fingers, had +actually caught me by the long plait of hair to whose other end I was +attached and whose English name I had been told was pigtail, just at the +instant when I was springing away from her into the bushes; and so +had led me home triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, and +muttering with a broad smile of special satisfaction, "Diesmal wirst du +mir aber nicht entschlupfen!" Fraulein Wundermacher, now I came to think +of it, must have been a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a +capable woman. But I wished at that moment that she would not haunt me +so persistently, and that I could get rid of the feeling that she was +just behind in her galoshes, with her hand stretched out to seize me. +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started back +with my heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather's stern eyes +shining in the darkness. It was evident that my anxiety lest the cousins +should catch me had quite upset my nerves, for I am not by nature +inclined to see eyes where eyes are not. "Don't be foolish, Elizabeth," +murmured my soul in rather a faint voice, "go in, and make sure." "But +I don't like going in and making sure," I replied. I did go in, however, +with a sufficient show of courage, and fortunately the eyes vanished. +What I should have done if they had not I am altogether unable to +imagine. Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime and fear at +night, but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The arbour had +fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of mouldiness. My +grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, it enjoyed +a period of prosperity before being left to the ravages of slugs and +children, when he came down every afternoon in summer and drank his +coffee there and read his Kreuzzeitung and dozed, while the rest of us +went about on tiptoe, and only the birds dared sing. Even the mosquitoes +that infested the place were too much in awe of him to sting him; they +certainly never did sting him, and I naturally concluded it must be +because he had forbidden such familiarities. Although I had played there +for so many years since his death, my memory skipped them all, and went +back to the days when it was exclusively his. Standing on the spot +where his armchair used to be, I felt how well I knew him now from the +impressions he made then on my child's mind, though I was not conscious +of them for more than twenty years. Nobody told me about him, and he +died when I was six, and yet within the last year or two, that strange +Indian summer of remembrance that comes to us in the leisured times when +the children have been born and we have time to think, has made me +know him perfectly well. It is rather an uncomfortable thought for +the grown-up, and especially for the parent, but of a salutary and +restraining nature, that though children may not understand what is said +and done before them, and have no interest in it at the time, and though +they may forget it at once and for years, yet these things that they +have seen and heard and not noticed have after all impressed themselves +for ever on their minds, and when they are men and women come crowding +back with surprising and often painful distinctness, and away frisk all +the cherished little illusions in flocks. + +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. He never petted, and he +often frowned, and such people are generally reverenced. Besides, he was +a just man, everybody said; a just man who might have been a great man +if he had chosen, and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory. +That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof of his +greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in the vulgar sense, +and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy and potentialities. This, +at least, as time passed and he still did nothing, was the belief of the +simple people around. People must believe in somebody, and having pinned +their faith on my grandfather in the promising years that lie round +thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there. He pervaded +our family life till my sixth year, and saw to it that we all behaved +ourselves, and then he died, and we were glad that he should be in +heaven. He was a good German (and when Germans are good they are very +good) who kept the commandments, voted for the Government, grew prize +potatoes and bred innumerable sheep, drove to Berlin once a year with +the wool in a procession of waggons behind him and sold it at the annual +Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a few days there, and then carried most +of the proceeds home, hunted as often as possible, helped his friends, +punished his children, read his Bible, said his prayers, and was +genuinely astonished when his wife had the affectation to die of a +broken heart. I cannot pretend to explain this conduct. She ought, of +course, to have been happy in the possession of so good a man; but good +men are sometimes oppressive, and to have one in the house with you +and to live in the daily glare of his goodness must be a tremendous +business. After bearing him seven sons and three daughters, therefore, +my grandmother died in the way described, and afforded, said my +grandfather, another and a very curious proof of the impossibility +of ever being sure of your ground with women. The incident faded more +quickly from his mind than it might otherwise have done for its having +occurred simultaneously with the production of a new kind of potato, of +which he was justly proud. He called it Trost in Trauer, and quoted the +text of Scripture Auge um Auge, Zabn um Zahn, after which he did not +again allude to his wife's decease. In his last years, when my father +managed the estate, and he only lived with us and criticised, he came to +have the reputation of an oracle. The neighbours sent him their sons +at the beginning of any important phase in their lives, and he received +them in this very arbour, administering eloquent and minute advice in +the deep voice that rolled round the shrubbery and filled me with a +vague sense of guilt as I played. Sitting among the bushes playing +muffled games for fear of disturbing him, I supposed he must be reading +aloud, so unbroken was the monotony of that majestic roll. The young men +used to come out again bathed in perspiration, much stung by mosquitoes, +and looking bewildered; and when they had got over the impression made +by my grandfather's speech and presence, no doubt forgot all he had +said with wholesome quickness, and set themselves to the interesting and +necessary work of gaining their own experience. Once, indeed, a dreadful +thing happened, whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end to the +long and close friendship between us and our nearest neighbour. His son +was brought to the arbour and left there in the usual way, and either he +must have happened on the critical half hour after the coffee and before +the Kreuzzeitung, when my grandfather was accustomed to sleep, or he +was more courageous than the others and tried to talk, for very shortly, +playing as usual near at hand, I heard my grandfather's voice, raised to +an extent that made me stop in my game and quake, saying with deliberate +anger, "Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des Satans!" Which was all the +advice this particular young man got, and which he hastened to take, for +out he came through the bushes, and though his face was very pale, there +was an odd twist about the corners of his mouth that reassured me. + +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather's life, for +almost immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he +need have done because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with +him, in the face of his doctor's warning that if he did he would surely +die. "What! am I to be conquered by crabs?" he demanded indignantly of +the doctor; for apart from loving them with all his heart he had never +yet been conquered by anything. "Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal--do +not, I pray you, try it again," replied the doctor. But my grandfather +ordered crabs that very night for supper, and went in to table with the +shining eyes of one who is determined to conquer or die, and the crabs +conquered, and he died. "He was a just man," said the neighbours, except +that nearest neighbour, formerly his best friend, "and might have been a +great one had he so chosen." And they buried him with profound respect, +and the sunshine came into our home life with a burst, and the birds +were not the only creatures that sang, and the arbour, from having been +a temple of Delphic utterances, sank into a home for slugs. + +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable ultimate +triumph of the insignificant and small over the important and vast, +illustrated in this instance by the easy substitution in the arbour of +slugs for grandfathers, I went slowly round the next bend of the +path, and came to the broad walk along the south side of the high wall +dividing the flower garden from the kitchen garden, in which sheltered +position my father had had his choicest flowers. Here the cousins had +been at work, and all the climbing roses that clothed the wall with +beauty were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed up at +proper intervals, reigned in their stead. Evidently the cousins knew +the value of this warm aspect, for in the border beneath, filled in my +father's time in this month of November with the wallflowers that were +to perfume the walk in spring, there was a thick crop of--I stooped down +close to make sure--yes, a thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled +with tears at the sight of those radishes, and it is probably the only +occasion on record on which radishes have made anybody cry. My dear +father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn passionately +loved this particular border, and spent the spare moments of a busy life +enjoying the flowers that grew in it. He had no time himself for a more +near acquaintance with the delights of gardening than directing what +plants were to be used, but found rest from his daily work strolling up +and down here, or sitting smoking as close to the flowers as possible. +"It is the Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest Refreshment +to the Spirits of Man," he would quote (for he read other things besides +the Kreuzzeitung), looking round with satisfaction on reaching this +fragrant haven after a hot day in the fields. Well, the cousins did not +think so. Less fanciful, and more sensible as they probably would have +said, their position plainly was that you cannot eat flowers. Their +spirits required no refreshment, but their bodies needed much, and +therefore radishes were more precious than wallflowers. Nor was my +youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they were grown in the decent +obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners and old cucumber frames, and +would never have been allowed to come among the flowers. And only +because I was not a boy here they were profaning the ground that used +to be so beautiful. Oh, it was a terrible misfortune not to have been a +boy! And how sad and lonely it was, after all, in this ghostly garden. +The radish bed and what it symbolised had turned my first joy into +grief. This walk and border me too much of my father reminded, and of +all he had been to me. What I knew of good he had taught me, and what +I had of happiness was through him. Only once during all the years we +lived together had we been of different opinions and fallen out, and +it was the one time I ever saw him severe. I was four years old, and +demanded one Sunday to be taken to church. My father said no, for I had +never been to church, and the German service is long and exhausting. I +implored. He again said no. I implored again, and showed such a pious +disposition, and so earnest a determination to behave well, that he gave +in, and we went off very happily hand in hand. "Now mind, Elizabeth," he +said, turning to me at the church door, "there is no coming out again +in the middle. Having insisted on being brought, thou shalt now sit +patiently till the end." "Oh, yes, oh, yes," I promised eagerly, +and went in filled with holy fire. The shortness of my legs, hanging +helplessly for two hours midway between the seat and the floor, was the +weapon chosen by Satan for my destruction. In German churches you do +not kneel, and seldom stand, but sit nearly the whole time, praying +and singing in great comfort. If you are four years old, however, this +unchanged position soon becomes one of torture. Unknown and dreadful +things go on in your legs, strange prickings and tinglings and dartings +up and down, a sudden terrifying numbness, when you think they must have +dropped off but are afraid to look, then renewed and fiercer prickings, +shootings, and burnings. I thought I must be very ill, for I had +never known my legs like that before. My father sitting beside me was +engrossed in the singing of a chorale that evidently had no end, each +verse finished with a long-drawn-out hallelujah, after which the organ +played by itself for a hundred years--by the organist's watch, which +was wrong, two minutes exactly--and then another verse began. My father, +being the patron of the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen +to the sermon with exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the +little church was on our pew, and at first I tried to imitate him; but +the behaviour of my legs became so alarming that after vainly casting +imploring glances at him and seeing that he continued his singing +unmoved, I put out my hand and pulled his sleeve. + +"Hal-le-lu-jah," sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a +low voice without changing the expression of his face, his lips +hardly moving, and his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the +organist, who was also the postman, should have finished his solo, "Did +I not tell thee to sit still, Elizabeth?" "Yes, but----" "Then do it." +"But I want to go home." + +"Unsinn." And the next verse beginning, my father sang louder than ever. +What could I do? Should I cry? I began to be afraid I was going to die +on that chair, so extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. What +could my father do to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of small +children I felt that he could not put me in the corner in church, nor +would he whip me in public, and that with the whole village looking +on, he was helpless, and would have to give in. Therefore I tugged his +sleeve again and more peremptorily, and prepared to demand my immediate +removal in a loud voice. But my father was ready for me. Without +interrupting his singing, or altering his devout expression, he put his +hand slowly down and gave me a hard pinch--not a playful pinch, but a +good hard unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, +and then went on serenely to the next hallelujah. For a moment I was +petrified with astonishment. Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, +adorer, and friend? Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with +a nicely stretched, tight skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I +opened my mouth to shriek in earnest, when my father's clear whisper +fell on my ear, each word distinct and not to be misunderstood, his eyes +as before gazing meditatively into space, and his lips hardly moving, +"Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du platzt." And he +finished the verse with unruffled decorum-- + + "Will Satan mich verschlingen, + So lass die Engel singen + Hallelujah!" + +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing +slave, and after that I was his. + +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to +the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of which +my own little garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood still a +moment before going through, to hold my breath and listen. The silence +was as profound as before. The place seemed deserted; and I should +have thought the house empty and shut up but for the carefully tended +radishes and the recent footmarks on the green of the path. They were +the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine a specially +clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow sitting on the +wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in my life jumped, +and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my nerves were all to +pieces, for I gathered up my skirts and fled through the door as though +a whole army of ghosts and cousins were at my heels, nor did I stop till +I had reached the remote corner where my garden was. "Are you enjoying +yourself, Elizabeth?" asked the mocking sprite that calls itself my +soul: but I was too much out of breath to answer. + +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated from the main +garden and the house by the wall, and shut in on the north side by an +orchard, and it was to the last degree unlikely that any one would come +there on such an afternoon. This plot of ground, turned now as I saw +into a rockery, had been the scene of my most untiring labours. Into the +cold earth of this north border on which the sun never shone I had dug +my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been spent on it, and as +bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, in a fatal hour I had +borrowed from Fraulein Wundermacher, selling her my independence, +passing utterly into her power, forced as a result till my next birthday +should come round to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner in her +company, against which my very soul revolted. And after all, nothing +came up. The labour of digging and watering, the anxious zeal with which +I pounced on weeds, the poring over gardening books, the plans made as I +sat on the little seat in the middle gazing admiringly and with the +eye of faith on the trim surface so soon to be gemmed with a thousand +flowers, the reckless expenditure of pfennings, the humiliation of my +position in regard to Fraulein Wundermacher,--all, all had been in vain. +No sun shone there, and nothing grew. The gardener who reigned supreme +in those days had given me this big piece for that sole reason, because +he could do nothing with it himself. He was no doubt of opinion that it +was quite good enough for a child to experiment upon, and went his way, +when I had thanked him with a profuseness of gratitude I still remember, +with an unmoved countenance. For more than a year I worked and waited, +and watched the career of the flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled +feelings. The orchard was only a few yards away, and yet, although my +garden was full of manure, and water, and attentions that were never +bestowed on the orchard, all it could show and ever did show were a few +unhappy beginnings of growth that either remained stationary and did +not achieve flowers, or dwindled down again and vanished. Once I timidly +asked the gardener if he could explain these signs and wonders, but he +was a busy man with no time for answering questions, and told me shortly +that gardening was not learned in a day. How well I remember that +afternoon, and the very shape of the lazy clouds, and the smell of +spring things, and myself going away abashed and sitting on the shaky +bench in my domain and wondering for the hundredth time what it was that +made the difference between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of +me. The fruit trees, far enough away from the wall to be beyond the +reach of its cold shade, were tossing their flower-laden heads in the +sunshine in a carelessly well-satisfied fashion that filled my heart +with envy. There was a rise in the field behind them, and at the foot +of its protecting slope they luxuriated in the insolent glory of their +white and pink perfection. It was May, and my heart bled at the thought +of the tulips I had put in in November, and that I had never seen since. +The whole of the rest of the garden was on fire with tulips; behind +me, on the other side of the wall, were rows and rows of them,--cups of +translucent loveliness, a jewelled ring flung right round the lawn. But +what was there not on the other side of that wall? Things came up there +and grew and flowered exactly as my gardening books said they should do; +and in front of me, in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever +troubled about or cultivated or noticed throve joyously beneath the +trees,--daffodils thrusting their spears through the grass, crocuses +peeping out inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their small cold faces +when the first shivering spring days came. Only my piece that I so loved +was perpetually ugly and empty. And I sat in it thinking of these things +on that radiant day, and wept aloud. + +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me busily +digging, and noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps by the +difference between my garden and the profusion of splendour all around, +paused with his barrow on the path in front of me, and remarked +that nobody could expect to get blood out of a stone. The apparent +irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, the bitter +tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, and harangued me +from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips +and blood and stones till my tears all dried up again and I listened +attentively, for the conclusion to be drawn from his remarks was plainly +that I had been shamefully taken in by the head gardener, who was an +unprincipled person thenceforward to be for ever mistrusted and shunned. +Standing on the path from which the kindly apprentice had expounded his +proverb, this scene rose before me as clearly as though it had taken +place that very day; but how different everything looked, and how it had +shrunk! Was this the wide orchard that had seemed to stretch away, +it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of heaven? I believe +nearly every child who is much alone goes through a certain time of +hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up my mind that +on that Day the heavenly host would enter the world by that very field, +coming down the slope in shining ranks, treading the daffodils under +foot, filling the orchard with their songs of exultation, joyously +seeking out the sheep from among the goats. Of course I was a sheep, and +my governess and the head gardener goats, so that the results could not +fail to be in every way satisfactory. But looking up at the slope and +remembering my visions, I laughed at the smallness of the field I had +supposed would hold all heaven. + +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my garden was +occupied by a rockery, and the orchard grass with all its treasures +had been dug up, and the spaces between the trees planted with currant +bushes and celery in admirable rows; so that no future little cousins +will be able to dream of celestial hosts coming towards them across the +fields of daffodils, and will perhaps be the better for being free from +visions of the kind, for as I grew older, uncomfortable doubts laid +hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim uncertainties as to the +exact ultimate position of the gardener and the governess, anxious +questionings as to how it would be if it were they who turned out after +all to be sheep, and I who--? For that we all three might be gathered +into the same fold at the last never, in those days, struck me as +possible, and if it had I should not have liked it. + +"Now what sort of person can that be," I asked myself, shaking my head, +as I contemplated the changes before me, "who could put a rockery among +vegetables and currant bushes? A rockery, of all things in the gardening +world, needs consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier to make +mistakes in forming a rockery than in any other garden scheme. Either it +is a great success, or it is great failure; either it is very charming, +or it is very absurd. There is no state between the sublime and +the ridiculous possible in a rockery." I stood shaking my head +disapprovingly at the rockery before me, lost in these reflections, when +a sudden quick pattering of feet coming along in a great hurry made me +turn round with a start, just in time to receive the shock of a body +tumbling out of the mist and knocking violently against me. + +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. + +"Hullo!" said the little girl in excellent English; and then we stared +at each other in astonishment. + +"I thought you were Miss Robinson," said the little girl, offering no +apology for having nearly knocked me down. "Who are you?" + +"Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?" I repeated, my eyes fixed on the little +girl's face, and a host of memories stirring within me. "Why, didn't she +marry a missionary, and go out to some place where they ate him?" + +The little girl stared harder. "Ate him? Marry? What, has she been +married all this time to somebody who's been eaten and never let on? Oh, +I say, what a game!" And she threw back her head and laughed till the +garden rang again. + +"O hush, you dreadful little girl!" I implored, catching her by the arm, +and terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. "Don't make +that horrid noise--we are certain to be caught if you don't stop----" + +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut +her mouth with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot +buttons, came still further out of her head. "Caught?" she said eagerly. +"What, are you afraid of being caught too? Well, this is a game!" And +with her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat she capered in +front of me in the excess of her enjoyment, reminding me of a very fat +black lamb frisking round the dazed and passive sheep its mother. + +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to the gate at +the end of the garden as quickly as possible, and I began to move away +in that direction. The little girl at once stopped capering and planted +herself squarely in front of me. "Who are you?" she said, examining me +from my hat to my boots with the keenest interest. + +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, +and, trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. + +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, was there before me. + +"Who are you?" she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. "Oh, +I--I'm a pilgrim," I said in desperation. + +"A pilgrim!" echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, and while she +was struck I slipped past her and began to walk quickly towards the door +in the wall. "A pilgrim!" said the little girl, again, keeping close +beside me, and looking me up and down attentively. "I don't like +pilgrims. Aren't they people who are always walking about, and have +things the matter with their feet? Have you got anything the matter with +your feet?" + +"Certainly not," I replied indignantly, walking still faster. "And they +never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don't either, do you?" + +"Not wash? Oh, I'm afraid you are a very badly brought-up little +girl--oh, leave me alone--I must run--" + +"So must I," said the little girl, cheerfully, "for Miss Robinson must +be close behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you." And she +started running by my side. + +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings to my feet, and, +casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was but little left, to +the winds, I fairly flew down the path. The little girl was not to be +outrun, and though she panted and turned weird colours, kept by my side +and even talked. Oh, I was tired, tired in body and mind, tired by the +different shocks I had received, tired by the journey, tired by the want +of food; and here I was being forced to run because this very naughty +little girl chose to hide instead of going in to her lessons. + +"I say--this is jolly--" she jerked out. + +"But why need we run to the same place?" I breathlessly asked, in the +vain hope of getting rid of her. "Oh, yes--that's just--the fun. We'd +get on--together--you and I--" + +"No, no," said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. + +"I can't stand washing--either--it's awful--in winter--and makes one +have--chaps." + +"But I don't mind it in the least," I protested faintly, not having any +energy left. + +"Oh, I say!" said the little girl, looking at my face, and making the +sound known as a guffaw. The familiarity of this little girl was wholly +revolting. + +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past the radishes, +and were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience how easy it was to +hide in the tangle of little paths, and stopped a moment to look round +and listen. The little girl opened her mouth to speak. With great +presence of mind I instantly put my muff in front of it and held it +there tight, while I listened. Dead silence, except for the laboured +breathing and struggles of the little girl. + +"I don't hear a sound," I whispered, letting her go again. "Now what did +you want to say?" I added, eyeing her severely. + +"I wanted to say," she panted, "that it's no good pretending you wash +with a nose like that." + +"A nose like that! A nose like what?" I exclaimed, greatly offended; and +though I put up my hand and very tenderly and carefully felt it, I could +find no difference in it. "I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must have a +wretched life," I said, in tones of deep disgust. + +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying her +compliments. "It's all green and brown," she said, pointing. "Is it +always like that?" + +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, and the enraptured +kiss it had received, and blushed. + +"Won't it come off?" persisted the little girl. + +"Of course it will come off," I answered, frowning. + +"Why don't you rub it off?" + +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, and blushed +again. + +"Please lend me your handkerchief," I said humbly, "I--I have lost +mine." + +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then a +handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was produced. +I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, intensely +interested, watching the operation and giving me advice. "There--it's +all right now--a little more on the right--there--now it's all off." + +"Are you sure? No green left?" I anxiously asked. + +"No, it's red all over now," she replied cheerfully. "Let me get home," +thought I, very much upset by this information, "let me get home to my +dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept my nose as an example of +what a nose should be, and whatever its colour think it beautiful." And +thrusting the handkerchief back into the little girl's hands, I hurried +away down the path. She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds +for it was of the size of a small sheet, and then came running after me. +"Where are you going?" she asked surprised, as I turned down the path +leading to the gate. + +"Through this gate," I replied with decision. + +"But you mustn't--we're not allowed to go through there----" + +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at the words +not allowed my hand dropped of itself from the latch; and at that +instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist struck me +rigid. + +"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" called the voice, "Come in at once to your +lessons--Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" + +"It's Miss Robinson," whispered the little girl, twinkling with +excitement; then, catching sight of my face, she said once more with +eager insistence, "Who are you?" + +"Oh, I'm a ghost!" I cried with conviction, pressing my hands to my +forehead and looking round fearfully. + +"Pooh," said the little girl. + +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking of +approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I +pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, and +fled out and away down the wide, misty fields. + +The Gotha Almanach says that the reigning cousin married the daughter +of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, and that in 1886 their only +child was born, Elizabeth. + + +November 20th.--Last night we had ten degrees of frost (Fahrenheit), and +I went out the first thing this morning to see what had become of the +tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake and quite cheerful--covered +with rime it is true, but anything but black and shrivelled. Even those +in boxes on each side of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and +full of buds, and one in particular, a Bouquet d'Or, is a mass of buds, +and would flower if it could get the least encouragement. I am beginning +to think that the tenderness of tea-roses is much exaggerated, and am +certainly very glad I had the courage to try them in this northern +garden. But I must not fly too boldly in the face of Providence, and +have ordered those in the boxes to be taken into the greenhouse for the +winter, and hope the Bouquet d'Or, in a sunny place near the glass, may +be induced to open some of those buds. The greenhouse is only used as a +refuge, and kept at a temperature just above freezing, and is reserved +entirely for such plants as cannot stand the very coldest part of the +winter out of doors. I don't use it for growing anything, because I +don't love things that will only bear the garden for three or four +months in the year and require coaxing and petting for the rest of it. +Give me a garden full of strong, healthy creatures, able to stand +roughness and cold without dismally giving in and dying. I never could +see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, either in plants or women. +No doubt there are many lovely flowers to be had by heat and constant +coaxing, but then for each of these there are fifty others still +lovelier that will gratefully grow in God's wholesome air and are +blessed in return with a far greater intensity of scent and colour. + +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds into order +and planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward to next summer +with more hope than ever in spite of my many failures. I wish the years +would pass quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! The Persian +Yellows have gone into their new quarters, and their place is occupied +by the tearose Safrano; all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies sown +in July and transplanted in October, each bed having a separate colour. +The purple ones are the most charming and go well with every rose, but I +have white ones with Laurette Messimy, and yellow ones with Safrano, and +a new red sort in the big centre bed of red roses. Round the semicircle +on the south side of the little privet hedge two rows of annual +larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, and just beyond +the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard tea and pillar +roses. + +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked with larkspurs, +annual and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, pinks, Madonna +lilies, wallflowers, hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, peonies, lavender, +starworts, cornflowers, Lychnis chalcedonica, and bulbs packed in +wherever bulbs could go. These are the borders that were so hardly used +by the other gardener. The spring boxes for the verandah steps have been +filled with pink and white and yellow tulips. I love tulips better than +any other spring flower; they are the embodiment of alert cheerfulness +and tidy grace, and next to a hyacinth look like a wholesome, freshly +tubbed young girl beside a stout lady whose every movement weighs +down the air with patchouli. Their faint, delicate scent is refinement +itself; and is there anything in the world more charming than the +sprightly way they hold up their little faces to the sun. I have heard +them called bold and flaunting, but to me they seem modest grace itself, +only always on the alert to enjoy life as much as they can and not +afraid of looking the sun or anything else above them in the face. On +the grass there are two beds of them carpeted with forget-me-nots; and +in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils and narcissus. Down +the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins will (I hope) shine +majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of firs, is graced by +Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. + +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak tree that +stands alone in the sun--groups of crocuses, daffodils, narcissus, +hyacinths, and tulips, among such flowering shrubs and trees as Pirus +Malus spectabilis, floribunda, and coronaria; Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, +serotina, triloba, and Pissardi; Cydonias and Weigelias in every colour, +and several kinds of Crataegus and other May lovelinesses. If the +weather behaves itself nicely, and we get gentle rains in due season, I +think this little corner will be beautiful--but what a big "if" it is! +Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers each contained five +weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all the ditches dried up and the +soil was like hot pastry. At such times the watering is naturally quite +beyond the strength of two men; but as a garden is a place to be happy +in, and not one where you want to meet a dozen curious eyes at every +turn, I should not like to have more than these two, or rather one and a +half--the assistant having stork-like proclivities and going home in the +autumn to his native Russia, returning in the spring with the first warm +winds. I want to keep him over the winter, as there is much to be done +even then, and I sounded him on the point the other day. He is the +most abject-looking of human beings--lame, and afflicted with a hideous +eye-disease; but he is a good worker and plods along unwearyingly from +sunrise to dusk. + +"Pray, my good stork," said I, or German words to that effect, "why +don't you stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting away +all you have earned?" + +"I would stay," he answered, "but I have my wife there in Russia." + +"Your wife!" I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed +creature should have found a mate--as though there were not a +superfluity of mates in the world--"I didn't know you were married?" + +"Yes, and I have two little children, and I don't know what they would +do if I were not to come home. But it is a very expensive journey to +Russia, and costs me every time seven marks." + +"Seven marks!" + +"Yes, it is a great sum." + +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, +supposing I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. + +All the labourers who work here from March to December are Russians +and Poles, or a mixture of both. We send a man over who can speak their +language, to fetch as many as he can early in the year, and they arrive +with their bundles, men and women and babies, and as soon as they have +got here and had their fares paid, they disappear in the night if they +get the chance, sometimes fifty of them at a time, to go and work singly +or in couples for the peasants, who pay them a pfenning or two more a +day than we do, and let them eat with the family. From us they get a +mark and a half to two marks a day, and as many potatoes as they can +eat. The women get less, not because they work less, but because they +are women and must not be encouraged. The overseer lives with them, and +has a loaded revolver in his pocket and a savage dog at his heels. +For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters and other +permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses they are put +into. I suppose they find it sleepy work; for certain it is that spring +after spring the same thing happens, fifty of them getting away in spite +of all our precautions, and we are left with our mouths open and much +out of pocket. This spring, by some mistake, they arrived without their +bundles, which had gone astray on the road, and, as they travel in their +best clothes, they refused utterly to work until their luggage came. +Nearly a week was lost waiting, to the despair of all in authority. + +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints' days, and +there surely never was a church so full of them as the Russian Church. +In the spring, when every hour is of vital importance, the work is +constantly being interrupted by them, and the workers lie sleeping +in the sun the whole day, agreeably conscious that they are pleasing +themselves and the Church at one and the same time--a state of +perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided by Faith is of +course exasperated at this waste of precious time, and I confess that +during the first mild days after the long winter frost when it is +possible to begin to work the ground, I have sympathised with the gloom +of the Man of Wrath, confronted in one week by two or three empty days +on which no man will labour, and have listened in silence to his remarks +about distant Russian saints. + +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation that made +me pity these people when first I came to live among them. They herd +together like animals and do the work of animals; but in spite of the +armed overseer, the dirt and the rags, the meals of potatoes washed down +by weak vinegar and water, I am beginning to believe that they would +strongly object to soap, I am sure they would not wear new clothes, and +I hear them coming home from their work at dusk singing. They are like +little children or animals in their utter inability to grasp the idea +of a future; and after all, if you work all day in God's sunshine, when +evening comes you are pleasantly tired and ready for rest and not much +inclined to find fault with your lot. I have not yet persuaded myself, +however, that the women are happy. They have to work as hard as the men +and get less for it; they have to produce offspring, quite regardless +of times and seasons and the general fitness of things; they have to do +this as expeditiously as possible, so that they may not unduly interrupt +the work in hand; nobody helps them, notices them, or cares about them, +least of all the husband. It is quite a usual thing to see them working +in the fields in the morning, and working again in the afternoon, having +in the interval produced a baby. The baby is left to an old woman whose +duty it is to look after babies collectively. When I expressed my horror +at the poor creatures working immediately afterwards as though nothing +had happened, the Man of Wrath informed me that they did not suffer +because they had never worn corsets, nor had their mothers and +grandmothers. We were riding together at the time, and had just passed +a batch of workers, and my husband was speaking to the overseer, when +a woman arrived alone, and taking up a spade, began to dig. She grinned +cheerfully at us as she made a curtesy, and the overseer remarked that +she had just been back to the house and had a baby. + +"Poor, poor woman!" I cried, as we rode on, feeling for some occult +reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. "And her wretched husband +doesn't care a rap, and will probably beat her to-night if his supper +isn't right. What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes +when the women have the babies!" + +"Quite so, my dear," replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. +"You have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing +this agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any +serious competition with man. How can a person who is constantly losing +a year of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never +loses any time at all? He has the brute force, and his last word on any +subject could always be his fist." + +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning of +November, and the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses' feet +as we rode towards the Hirschwald. + +"It is a universal custom," proceeded the Man of Wrath, "amongst these +Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes everywhere, and +certainly commendable on the score of simplicity, to silence a woman's +objections and aspirations by knocking her down. I have heard it said +that this apparently brutal action has anything but the maddening effect +tenderly nurtured persons might suppose, and that the patient is soothed +and satisfied with a rapidity and completeness unattainable by other and +more polite methods. Do you suppose," he went on, flicking a twig off +a tree with his whip as we passed, "that the intellectual husband, +wrestling intellectually with the chaotic yearnings of his intellectual +wife, ever achieves the result aimed at? He may and does go on wrestling +till he is tired, but never does he in the very least convince her of +her folly; while his brother in the ragged coat has got through the +whole business in less time than it takes me to speak about it. There is +no doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far more thoroughly +than the women in our class, and, as the truest: happiness consists in +finding one's vocation quickly and continuing in it all one's days, I +consider they are to be envied rather than not, since they are early +taught, by the impossibility of argument with marital muscle, the +impotence of female endeavour and the blessings of content." + +"Pray go on," I said politely. + +"These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all +praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the +strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. +In Russia, not only may a man beat his wife, but it is laid down in the +catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation as necessary +at least once a week, whether she has done anything or not, for the sake +of her general health and happiness." + +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat over +these castigations. + +"Pray, my dear man," I said, pointing with my whip, "look at that baby +moon so innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind +that silver birch; and don't talk so much about women and things you +don't understand. What is the use of your bothering about fists and +whips and muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the confusion +of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, and a +civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man. + +"And a civilised wife?" he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me +and putting his arm round my waist, "has she ceased to be a woman?" + +"I should think so indeed,--she is a goddess, and can never be +worshipped and adored enough." + +"It seems to me," he said, "that the conversation is growing personal." + +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. The Hirschwald +is an enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie low on the +turf, and overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver birches +stand out clear against the soft sky, while the little moon looks down +kindly on the damp November world. Where the trees thicken into a wood, +the fragrance of the wet earth and rotting leaves kicked up by the +horses' hoofs fills my soul with delight. I particularly love that +smell,--it brings before me the entire benevolence of Nature, for ever +working death and decay, so piteous in themselves, into the means of +fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours as she works. + + +December 7th.--I have been to England. I went for at least a month and +stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. Twice I fled +before the fogs into the country to see friends with gardens, but it +was raining, and except the beautiful lawns (not to be had in the +Fatherland) and the infinite possibilities, there was nothing to +interest the intelligent and garden-loving foreigner, for the good +reason that you cannot be interested in gardens under an umbrella. So I +went back to the fogs, and after groping about for a few days more began +to long inordinately for Germany. A terrific gale sprang up after I had +started, and the journey both by sea and land was full of horrors, the +trains in Germany being heated to such an extent that it is next to +impossible to sit still, great gusts of hot air coming up under the +cushions, the cushions themselves being very hot, and the wretched +traveller still hotter. + +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, +brightest snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed +to be listening, the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot +and on the trees, and a happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, I +was consoled for all my torments, only remembering them enough to wonder +why I had gone away at all. + +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant bouquet of pine +needles and grass in the other, and what with the due presentation of +the bouquets and the struggles of the kittens, the hugging and kissing +was much interfered with. Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all somehow +squeezed into the sleigh, and off we went with jingling bells and +shrieks of delight. "Directly you comes home the fun begins," said the +May baby, sitting very close to me. "How the snow purrs!" cried the +April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their feet. The June baby +sat loudly singing "The King of Love my Shepherd is," and swinging her +kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. + +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode of peace, and +I ran through all the rooms, eager to take possession of them again, and +feeling as though I had been away for ever. When I got to the library I +came to a standstill,--ah, the dear room, what happy times I have spent +in it rummaging amongst the books, making plans for my garden, building +castles in the air, writing, dreaming, doing nothing! There was a big +peat fire blazing half up the chimney, and the old housekeeper had put +pots of flowers about, and on the writing-table was a great bunch of +violets scenting the room. "Oh, how good it is to be home again!" I +sighed in my satisfaction. The babies clung about my knees, looking up +at me with eyes full of love. Outside the dazzling snow and sunshine, +inside the bright room and happy faces--I thought of those yellow fogs +and shivered. The library is not used by the Man of Wrath; it is neutral +ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour before he disappears +into his own rooms--a series of very smoky dens in the southeast +corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, rather too gay for an ideal +library; and its colouring, white and yellow, is so cheerful as to be +almost frivolous. There are white bookcases all round the walls, and +there is a great fireplace, and four windows, facing full south, opening +on to my most cherished bit of garden, the bit round the sun-dial; so +that with so much colour and such a big fire and such floods of sunshine +it has anything but a sober air, in spite of the venerable volumes +filling the shelves. Indeed, I should never be surprised if they skipped +down from their places, and, picking up their leaves, began to dance. + +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity +to being snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go into +the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. +The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes +me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of all the +spotlessness. Yesterday I sat out of doors near the sun-dial the whole +afternoon, with the thermometer so many degrees below freezing that +it will be weeks finding its way up again; but there was no wind, and +beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. I even had tea +brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, and sat till long +after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. I had to drink the tea +very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination to begin to freeze. +After the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their nests in +the garden with a great fuss and fluttering, and many hesitations and +squabbles before they settled on their respective trees. They flew over +my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings, and when they had +arranged themselves comfortably, an intense hush fell upon the garden, +and the house began to look like a Christmas card, with its white roof +against the clear, pale green of the western sky, and lamplight shining +in the windows. + +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, in the +intervals between looking round me and being happy. He came one day with +the book and begged me to read it, having discovered that my interest +in Luther was not as living as it ought to be; so I took it out with +me into the garden, because the dullest book takes on a certain saving +grace if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, devoid of charm in +the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. I read Luther all the +afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at the garden and the sky, +and much thankfulness in my heart. His struggles with devils amazed +me; and I wondered whether such a day as that, full of grace and the +forgiveness of sins, never struck him as something to make him relent +even towards devils. He apparently never allowed himself just to be +happy. He was a wonderful man, but I am glad I was not his wife. + +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts to +improve himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare +moment, and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one +hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, of course, +getting the greater share of her attention. To most German Hausfraus +the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance, and they pride +themselves on keeping those parts of their houses that are seen in a +state of perpetual and spotless perfection, and this is exceedingly +praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, are there not other things +even more important? And is not plain living and high thinking better +than the other way about? And all too careful making of dinners and +dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious time, and--and +with shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the +grammar. It cannot be right to be the slave of one's household gods, and +I protest that if my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted +when I wanted to be doing something else, and there was no one to do the +dusting for me, I would cast it all into the nearest bonfire and sit and +warm my toes at the flames with great contentment, triumphantly selling +my dusters to the very next pedlar who was weak enough to buy them. +Parsons' wives have to do the housework and cooking themselves, and are +thus not only cooks and housemaids, but if they have children--and they +always do have children--they are head and under nurse as well; and +besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit +and vegetable garden, and everything to do with their poultry. This +being so, is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling +to learn languages and keep up with her husband? If I were that husband, +those puddings would taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin +sauce. They are both severely pious, and are for ever engaged in +desperate efforts to practise what they preach; than which, as we all +know, nothing is more difficult. He works in his parish with the most +noble self-devotion, and never loses courage, although his efforts +have been several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the +street-corners, thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden +wall. The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a +sensitive, intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before +swine. For years he has gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most +living faith and hope and charity, and I sometimes wonder whether they +are any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor, +a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night, +never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty congregation +waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap. It +is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave the parish to +get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never seems discouraged, and +goes on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when all +his tastes are literary, and all his inclinations towards the life of +the student. His convictions drag him out of his little home at all +hours to minister to the sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no +rest, and never let him feel he has done enough; and when he comes +home weary, after a day's wrestling with his parishioners' souls, he is +confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front +door. He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid? +Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, and +what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the most +astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, roomy cottage, and +a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. His predecessor used to +hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry, but then he was a person +entirely lost to all sense of decency, and had finally to be removed, +preaching a farewell sermon of a most vituperative description, and +hurling invective at the Man of Wrath, who sat up in his box drinking +in every word and enjoying himself thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes +novelty, and such a sermon had never been heard before. It is spoken of +in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy. + + +December 22nd.--Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. Clear skies, +frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch now and then, very few +really cold days. My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies of +the valley; and though, as I have said, I don't admire the smell of +hyacinths in the spring when it seems wanting in youth and chastity next +to that of other flowers, I am glad enough now to bury my nose in +their heavy sweetness. In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; +besides, one is actually less fastidious about everything in the winter. +The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness, and the food +and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly welcome then. + +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have often locked myself up +in a room alone, shutting out my unfinished duties, to study the flower +catalogues and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the +spring. It is a fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional charm +when you know you ought to be doing something else, that Christmas is +at the door, that children and servants and farm hands depend on you +for their pleasure, and that, if you don't see to the decoration of the +trees and house, and the buying of the presents, nobody else will. The +hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and with Duty snarling on +the other side of the door. I don't like Duty--everything in the least +disagreeable is always sure to be one's duty. Why cannot it be my duty +to make lists and plans for the dear garden? "And so it is," I insisted +to the Man of Wrath, when he protested against what he called wasting my +time upstairs. "No," he replied sagely; "your garden is not your duty, +because it is your Pleasure." + +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly at my +disposal! Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given to have a +sage, and the combination of both is as rare as it is useful. Indeed, in +its practical utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it is a sofa my +neighbour has bought as a Christmas surprise for her husband, and which +she showed me the last time I called there--a beautiful invention, as +she explained, combining a bedstead, a sofa, and a chest of drawers, and +into which you put your clothes, and on top of which you put yourself, +and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and you happen to be +using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the bedclothes inside, +and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa and looking for all +the world as though you had been expecting visitors for hours. + +"Pray, does he wear pyjamas?" I inquired. + +But she had never heard of pyjamas. + +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. I want to have a border +all yellow, every shade of yellow from fieriest orange to nearly white, +and the amount of work and studying of gardening books it costs me will +only be appreciated by beginners like myself. I have been weeks planning +it, and it is not nearly finished. I want it to be a succession of +glories from May till the frosts, and the chief feature is to be the +number of "ardent marigolds"--flowers that I very tenderly love--and +nasturtiums. The nasturtiums are to be of every sort and shade, and are +to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show their lovely flowers +and leaves to the best advantage. Then there are to be eschscholtzias, +dahlias, sunflowers, zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, yellow violas, yellow +stocks, yellow sweet-peas, yellow lupins--everything that is yellow or +that has a yellow variety. The place I have chosen for it is a long, +wide border in the sun, at the foot of a grassy slope crowned with +lilacs and pines, and facing southeast. You go through a little pine +wood, and, turning a corner, are to come suddenly upon this bit of +captured morning glory. I want it to be blinding in its brightness after +the dark, cool path through the wood. + +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon the probable +difference between the idea and its realisation. I am ignorant, and +the gardener is, I do believe, still more so; for he was forcing some +tulips, and they have all shrivelled up and died, and he says he cannot +imagine why. Besides, he is in love with the cook, and is going to marry +her after Christmas, and refuses to enter into any of my plans with the +enthusiasm they deserve, but sits with vacant eye dreamily chopping +wood from morning till night to keep the beloved one's kitchen fire well +supplied. I cannot understand any one preferring cooks to marigolds; +those future marigolds, shadowy as they are, and whose seeds are still +sleeping at the seedsman's, have shone through my winter days like +golden lamps. + +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first thing I +should do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I should +have the delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands +and need not waste time explaining what I want done to somebody else. It +is dull work giving orders and trying to describe the bright visions of +one's brain to a person who has no visions and no brain, and who thinks +a yellow bed should be calceolarias edged with blue. + +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those +humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my soil +is by no means all that it might be, and to most plants the climate is +rather trying. I feel really grateful to any flower that is sturdy and +willing enough to flourish here. Pansies seem to like the place and +so do sweet-peas; pinks don't, and after much coaxing gave hardly any +flowers last summer. Nearly all the roses were a success, in spite of +the sandy soil, except the tea-rose Adam, which was covered with buds +ready to open, when they suddenly turned brown and died, and three +standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. I had been +very excited about Dr. Grill, his description in the catalogues being +specially fascinating, and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I got. +"Never be excited, my dears, about anything," shall be the advice I will +give the three babies when the time comes to take them out to parties, +"or, if you are, don't show it. If by nature you are volcanoes, at least +be only smouldering ones. Don't look pleased, don't look interested, +don't, above all things, look eager. Calm indifference should be written +on every feature of your faces. Never show that you like any one person, +or any one thing. Be cool, languid, and reserved. If you don't do as +your mother tells you and are just gushing, frisky, young idiots, snubs +will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, you'll marry princes +and live happily ever after." + +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of the world the more you +are pleased to see a person the less is he pleased to see you; whereas, +if you are disagreeable, he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance +expanding into wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. But +I was not Prepared for that sort of thing in a rose, and was disgusted +with Dr. Grill. He had the best place in the garden--warm, sunny, and +sheltered; his holes were prepared with the tenderest care; he was given +the most dainty mixture of compost, clay, and manure; he was watered +assiduously all through the drought when more willing flowers got +nothing; and he refused to do anything but look black and shrivel. He +did not die, but neither did he live--he just existed; and at the end +of the summer not one of him had a scrap more shoot or leaf than when +he was first put in in April. It would have been better if he had died +straight away, for then I should have known what to do; as it is, there +he is still occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully for the +winter, excluding kinder roses, and probably intending to repeat the +same conduct next year. Well, trials are the portion of mankind, and +gardeners have their share, and in any case it is better to be tried by +plants than persons, seeing that with plants you know that it is you who +are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the other way about--and +who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured innocence, +and known them to be grievous? + +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing to +provoke such an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy +little Christmas alone with the Man of Wrath and the babies. Fate +decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, if I look forward to anything, Fate +steps in and decrees otherwise; I don't know why it should, but it does. +I had not even invited these good ladies--like greatness on the modest, +they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet singer of the summer, +whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly thought I had seen +the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I would have +her over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she didn't +like him in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, full +of sympathy, I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other is +Minora. + +Why I have to have Minora I don't know, for I was not even aware of her +existence a fortnight ago. Then coming down cheerfully one morning to +breakfast--it was the very day after my return from England--I found +a letter from an English friend, who up till then had been perfectly +innocuous, asking me to befriend Minora. I read the letter aloud for the +benefit of the Man of Wrath, who was eating Spickgans, a delicacy much +sought after in these parts. "Do, my dear Elizabeth," wrote my friend, +"take some notice of the poor thing. She is studying art in Dresden, +and has nowhere literally to go for Christmas. She is very ambitious and +hardworking--" + +"Then," interrupted the Man of Wrath, "she is not pretty. Only ugly +girls work hard." + +"--and she is really very clever--" + +"I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid," again interrupted the +Man of Wrath. + +"--and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity on her she +will be very lonely." + +"Then let her be lonely." + +"Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to +think that her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a +season." + +"I do not mind the distress of the mother." + +"Oh, dear me," I exclaimed impatiently, "I shall have to ask her to +come!" + +"If you should be inclined," the letter went on, "to play the good +Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would find Minora a bright, +intelligent companion--" + +"Minora?" questioned the Man of Wrath. + +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether +alarmingly zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, +looked up from her bread and milk. + +"It sounds like islands," she remarked pensively. + +The governess coughed. + +"Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark," explained her pupil. + +I looked at her severely. + +"If you are not careful, April," I said, "you'll be a genius when you +grow up and disgrace your parents." + +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. I am afraid she +despises us because she thinks we are foreigners--an attitude of mind +quite British and wholly to her credit; but we, on the other hand, +regard her as a foreigner, which, of course, makes things complicated. + +"Shall I really have to have this strange girl?" I asked, addressing +nobody in particular and not expecting a reply. + +"You need not have her," said the Man of Wrath composedly, "but you +will. You will write to-day and cordially invite her, and when she has +been here twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. I know you, my +dear." + +"Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?" Miss Jones cast down her eyes. +She is perpetually scenting a scene, and is always ready to bring whole +batteries of discretion and tact and good taste to bear on us, and seems +to know we are disputing in an unseemly manner when we would never dream +it ourselves but for the warning of her downcast eyes. I would take my +courage in both hands and ask her to go, for besides this superfluity of +discreet behaviour she is, although only nursery, much too zealous, and +inclined to be always teaching and never playing; but, unfortunately, +the April baby adores her and is sure there never was any one so +beautiful before. She comes every day with fresh accounts of the +splendours of her wardrobe, and feeling descriptions of her umbrellas +and hats; and Miss Jones looks offended and purses up her lips. In +common with most governesses, she has a little dark down on her +upper lip, and the April baby appeared one day at dinner with her +own decorated in faithful imitation, having achieved it after much +struggling, with the aid of a lead pencil and unbounded love. Miss Jones +put her in the corner for impertinence. I wonder why governesses are so +unpleasant. The Man of Wrath says it is because they are not married. +Without venturing to differ entirely from the opinion of experience, I +would add that the strain of continually having to set an example must +surely be very great. It is much easier, and often more pleasant, to be +a warning than an example, and governesses are but women, and women are +sometimes foolish, and when you want to be foolish it must be annoying +to have to be wise. + +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, when the +carriage drove up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed me that there +was a strange girl on a bicycle a little way behind. I sent back the +carriage to pick her up, for it was dusk and the roads are terrible. + +"But why do you have strange girls here at all?" asked Irais rather +peevishly, taking off her hat in the library before the fire, and +otherwise making herself very much at home; "I don't like them. I'm not +sure that they're not worse than husbands who are out of order. Who is +she? She would bicycle from the station, and is, I am sure, the first +woman who has done it. The little boys threw stones at her." + +"Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. Never +mind her. Let us have tea in peace before she comes." "But we should be +much happier without her," she grumbled. "Weren't we happy enough in the +summer, Elizabeth--just you and I?" + +"Yes, indeed we were," I answered heartily, putting my arms round her. +The flame of my affection for Irais burns very brightly on the day of +her arrival; besides, this time I have prudently provided against her +sinning with the salt-cellars by ordering them to be handed round like +vegetable dishes. We had finished tea and she had gone up to her room to +dress before Minora and her bicycle were got here. I hurried out to meet +her, feeling sorry for her, plunged into a circle of strangers at such a +very personal season as Christmas. But she was not very shy; indeed, she +was less shy than I was, and lingered in the hall, giving the servants +directions to wipe the snow off the tyres of her machine before she lent +an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. + +"I couldn't make your man understand me at the station," she said at +last, when her mind was at rest about her bicycle; "I asked him how far +it was, and what the roads were like, and he only smiled. Is he German? +But of course he is--how odd that he didn't understand. You speak +English very well,--very well indeed, do you know." By this time we were +in the library, and she stood on the hearth-rug warming her back while I +poured her out some tea. + +"What a quaint room," she remarked, looking round, "and the hall is so +curious too. Very old, isn't it? There's a lot of copy here." + +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival and had come +in with us, began to look about on the carpet. "Copy" he inquired, +"Where's copy?" + +"Oh--material, you know, for a book. I'm just jotting down what strikes +me in your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book form." +She spoke very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. + +"My dear," I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room +and shut the door and Minora was safely in hers, "what do you think--she +writes books!" + +"What--the bicycling girl?" + +"Yes--Minora--imagine it!" + +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. + +"How dreadful!" murmured Irais. "I never met a young girl who did that +before." + +"She says this place is full of copy." "Full of what?" + +"That's what you make books with." + +"Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is always +a bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her. But a girl +who writes books--why, it isn't respectable! And you can't snub that +sort of people; they're unsnubbable." + +"Oh, but we'll try!" I cried, with such heartiness that we both laughed. + +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she lingered so +long after dinner in the hall, which is cold, that the Man of Wrath put +on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint. His hints are always gentle. + +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and the nuns and +Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book began to take down +what I said. I at once relapsed into silence. + +"Well?" she said. + +"That's all." + +"Oh, but you've only just begun." + +"It doesn't go any further. Won't you come into the library?" + +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire and warmed +herself, and we sat in a row and were cold. She has a wonderfully good +profile, which is irritating. The wind, however, is tempered to the +shorn lamb by her eyes being set too closely together. + +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, contemplated her +critically beneath her long eyelashes. "You are writing a book?" she +asked presently. + +"Well--yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, you +know, of your country. Anything that strikes me as curious or amusing--I +jot it down, and when I have time shall work it up into something, I +daresay." + +"Are you not studying painting?" + +"Yes, but I can't study that for ever. We have an English proverb: 'Life +is short and Art is long'--too long, I sometimes think--and writing is a +great relaxation when I am tired." + +"What shall you call it?" + +"Oh, I thought of calling it Journeyings in Germany. It sounds well, and +would be correct. Or Jottings from German Journeyings,--I haven't quite +decided yet which." + +"By the author of Prowls in Pomerania, you might add," suggested Irais. + +"And Drivel from Dresden," said I. + +"And Bosh from Berlin," added Irais. + +Minora stared. "I don't think those two last ones would do," she said, +"because it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is +rather a good title," she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her +note-book. "I think I'll just jot that down." + +"If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your +book?" asked Irais. + +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. + +"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, turning to the +Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. + +"Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?" + +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and were +afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her note-book. +The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded to under his +very nose by our new guest as "him." + +"Husbands are always sages," said I gravely. + +"Though sages are not always husbands," said Irais with equal gravity. +"Sages and husbands--sage and husbands--" she went on musingly, "what +does that remind you of, Miss Minora?" + +"Oh, I know,--how stupid of me!" cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in +mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, "sage +and,--why,--yes,--no,--yes, of course--oh," disappointedly, "but that's +vulgar--I can't put it in." + +"What is vulgar?" I asked. + +"She thinks sage and onions is vulgar," said Irais languidly; "but +it isn't, it is very good." She got up and walked to the piano, and, +sitting down, began, after a little wandering over the keys, to sing. + +"Do you play?" I asked Minora. + +"Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice." + +I said no more. I know what that sort of playing is. + +When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to +speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. "What is the matter with her?" +murmured Irais. + +"I thought, perhaps," said Minora in English, "you might prefer to talk +German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk--" "Oh, pray don't +trouble," said Irais. "We like airing our English--don't we, Elizabeth?" + +"I don't want my German to get rusty though," said Minora; "I shouldn't +like to forget it." + +"Oh, but isn't there an English song," said Irais, twisting round her +neck as she preceded us upstairs, "''Tis folly to remember, 'tis wisdom +to forget'?" + +"You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope," I said hastily. + +"What room is she in?" asked Irais. + +"No. 12." + +"Oh!--do you believe in ghosts?" + +Minora turned pale. + +"What nonsense," said I; "we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you +want anything, mind you ring." + +"And if you see anything curious in that room," called Irais from her +bedroom door, "mind you jot it down." + + +December 27th--It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas as a +bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are invited +to over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just cause. As a +matter of fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic institutions +possible, if observed in the proper manner, and after having been more +or less unpleasant to everybody for a whole year, it is a blessing to be +forced on that one day to be amiable, and it is certainly delightful to +be able to give presents without being haunted by the conviction that +you are spoiling the recipient, and will suffer for it afterward. +Servants are only big children, and are made just as happy as children +by little presents and nice things to eat, and, for days beforehand, +every time the three babies go into the garden they expect to meet the +Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They firmly believe that it +is thus their presents are brought, and it is such a charming idea that +Christmas would be worth celebrating for its sake alone. + +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve entirely on me, +and it is not very easy work, with so many people in our own house and +on each of the farms, and all the children, big and little, expecting +their share of happiness. The library is uninhabitable for several days +before and after, as it is there that we have the trees and presents. +All down one side are the trees, and the other three sides are lined +with tables, a separate one for each person in the house. When the +trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance shining down on the happy +faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, and the number of times I +have had to run up and down stairs, and the various aches in head +and feet, and enjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby is +ushered in, then the others and ourselves according to age, then +the servants, then come the head inspector and his family, the other +inspectors from the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and +secretaries, and then all the children, troops and troops of them--the +big ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying the babies in +their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. As many as can get +in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or three carols; then they +are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, making room for the +next batch. My three babies sang lustily too, whether they happened to +know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses in honour +of the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed in a low-necked and +short-sleeved garment, after the manner of Teutonic infants, +whatever the state of the thermometer. Her arms are like miniature +prize-fighter's arms--I never saw such things; they are the pride and +joy of her little nurse, who had tied them up with blue ribbons, and +kept on kissing them. I shall certainly not be able to take her to balls +when she grows up, if she goes on having arms like that. + +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. +The April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, which +she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but because +she was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me +absently, and went away, only the April baby glancing at the trees as +she passed and making them a curtesy. + +"Good-bye, trees," I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese doll +bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blase fashion. "You'll +never see such trees again," she told him, giving him a vindictive +shake, "for you'll be brokened long before next time." + +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. + +"Thank the Christkind so much, Mummy, won't you, for all the lovely +things He brought us. I suppose you're writing to Him now, isn't you?" + +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, and we +were perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least two +days it brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. Happiness +is so wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety far more +effectually than any amount of trials and griefs, and an unexpected +pleasure is the surest means of bringing me to my knees. In spite of the +protestations of some peculiarly constructed persons that they are the +better for trials, I don't believe it. Such things must sour us, just as +happiness must sweeten us, and make us kinder, and more gentle. And will +anybody affirm that it behoves us to be more thankful for trials +than for blessings? We were meant to be happy, and to accept all the +happiness offered with thankfulness--indeed, we are none of us ever +thankful enough, and yet we each get so much, so very much, more than +we deserve. I know a woman--she stayed with me last summer--who rejoices +grimly when those she loves suffer. She believes that it is our lot, +and that it braces us and does us good, and she would shield no one from +even unnecessary pain; she weeps with the sufferer, but is convinced it +is all for the best. Well, let her continue in her dreary beliefs; she +has no garden to teach her the beauty and the happiness of holiness, nor +does she in the least desire to possess one; her convictions have +the sad gray colouring of the dingy streets and houses she lives +amongst--the sad colour of humanity in masses. Submission to what people +call their "lot" is simply ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be +wretched, get rid of it and take another; strike out for yourself; +don't listen to the shrieks of your relations, to their gibes or their +entreaties; don't let your own microscopic set prescribe your goings-out +and comings-in; don't be afraid of public opinion in the shape of the +neighbour in the next house, when all the world is before you new and +shining, and everything is possible, if you will only be energetic and +independent and seize opportunity by the scruff of the neck. + +"To hear you talk," said Irais, "no one would ever imagine that you +dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in your +life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is scruff? +I hope I have not got any on me." And she craned her neck before the +glass. + +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon +Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a +book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies--it was Miss Jones's last +public appearance, as I shall relate--and after working for the best +part of two days they were finished, and looked like lovely ladies +in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, holding up their skirts with +glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long description of them for a +chapter of her book which is headed Noel,--I saw that much, because she +left it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. They +were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said to be +natural to take to one's own countrymen, I am unable altogether to +sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection. + +"I wonder what they talk about?" I said to Irais yesterday, when there +was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in +conversation with Miss Jones. + +"Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think they +are clever, and then they talk rubbish." + +"Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever." + +"I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your +governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine +she must have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can't hear that +every day. What is the matter with her?" + +"I don't think she feels quite as proper as she looks," I said +doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones's +expression. + +"But that must be rather nice," said Irais. "It would be awful for her +if she felt exactly the same as she looks." + +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, +and the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, +leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying-- + +"Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be +terrible. Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have +continually to pose before their flock as such. As for governesses, Miss +Minora, I know what I am saying when I affirm that there is nothing more +intolerable than to have to be polite, and even humble, to persons whose +weaknesses and follies are glaringly apparent in every word they utter, +and to be forced by the presence of children and employers to a dignity +of manner in no way corresponding to one's feelings. The grave father of +a family, who was probably one of the least respectable of bachelors, is +an interesting study at his own table, where he is constrained to assume +airs of infallibility merely because his children are looking at him. +The fact of his being a parent does not endow him with any supreme and +sudden virtue; and I can assure you that among the eyes fixed upon him, +not the least critical and amused are those of the humble person who +fills the post of governess." + +"Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!" we heard Minora say in accents of rapture, +while we sat transfixed with horror at these sentiments. "Do you mind if +I put that down in my book? You say it all so beautifully." + +"Without a few hours of relaxation," continued Miss Jones, "of private +indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed in public, who could +wade through days of correct behaviour? There would be no reaction, no +room for better impulses, no place for repentance. Parents, priests, and +governesses would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a +quiet moment in which she can take off her corsets." + +"My dear, what a firebrand!" whispered Irais. I got up and went in. They +were sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing admiringly +into Miss Jones's face, which wore a very different expression from the +one of sour and unwilling propriety I have been used to seeing. + +"May I ask you to come to tea?" I said to Minora. "And I should like to +have the children a little while." + +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door open until she +had gone in and the two babies had followed. They had been playing at +stuffing each other's ears with pieces of newspaper while Miss Jones +provided Minora with noble thoughts for her work, and had to be tortured +afterward with tweezers. I said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us +till dinner-time, and this morning we went for a long sleigh-drive. When +we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. + +"Is Miss Jones ill?" asked Minora. + +"She is gone," I said. + +"Gone?" + +"Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?" asked Irais +blandly; and we talked resolutely of something else. + +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, and +it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often +are. It is enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, poor thing, +that she should have preferred the society of a Miss Jones to that of +Irais and myself. + +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. "You look so +pale," she said; "are you not well?" + +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one who likes to +be thought a sufferer. "I have a slight headache," she replied gently. + +"I hope you are not going to be ill," said Irais with great concern, +"because there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means +well, I believe he is rather rough." Minora was plainly startled. "But +what do you do if you are ill?" she asked. + +"Oh, we are never ill," said I; "the very knowledge that there would be +no one to cure us seems to keep us healthy." + +"And if any one takes to her bed," said Irais, "Elizabeth always calls +in the cow-doctor." + +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part +of the world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised +creature besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. +Whatever her reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. + + +January 1st.--The service on New Year's Eve is the only one in the whole +year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and then the +very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial produce an +effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. Last night +we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles in a sleigh. +It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns. We sat wrapped up to our eyes +in furs, and as mute as a funeral procession. + +"We are going to the burial of our last year's sins," said Irais, as we +started; and there certainly was a funereal sort of feeling in the air. +Up in our gallery pew we tried to decipher our chorales by the light +of the spluttering tallow candles stuck in holes in the woodwork, the +flames wildly blown about by the draughts. The wind banged against the +windows in great gusts, screaming louder than the organ, and threatening +to blow out the agitated lights together. The parson in his gloomy +pulpit, surrounded by a framework of dusty carved angels, took on an +awful appearance of menacing Authority as he raised his voice to make +himself heard above the clatter. Sitting there in the dark, I felt +very small, and solitary, and defenceless, alone in a great, big, black +world. The church was as cold as a tomb; some of the candles guttered +and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke of death and judgment; +I thought I heard a child's voice screaming, and could hardly believe it +was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; all my faith +and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I should +probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise idea. If it +had not been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so despairingly, +I should have paid little attention to the threats issuing from the +pulpit; but, as it was, I fell to making good resolutions. This is +always a bad sign,--only those who break them make them; and if you +simply do as a matter of course that which is right as it comes, any +preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely superfluous. I have +for some years past left off making them on New Year's Eve, and only the +gale happening as it did reduced me to doing so last night; for I have +long since discovered that, though the year and the resolutions may be +new, I myself am not, and it is worse than useless putting new wine into +old bottles. + +"But I am not an old bottle," said Irais indignantly, when I held forth +to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored +to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, "and I find my resolutions +carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them at the end of each +month, and strike out the unnecessary ones. By the end of April they +have been so severely revised that there are none left." + +"There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new +contents would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, +and the practice of your resolutions would lose its bitterness by +becoming a habit." + +She shook her head. "Such things never lose their bitterness," she said, +"and that is why I don't let them cling to me right into the summer. +When May comes, I give myself up to jollity with all the rest of the +world, and am too busy being happy to bother about anything I may have +resolved when the days were cold and dark." + +"And that is just why I love you," I thought. She often says what I +feel. + +"I wonder," she went on after a pause, "whether men ever make +resolutions?" + +"I don't think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. It is a +nice sort of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, giving way +to endless grief and penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes in +contrition; but it is silly. Why cry over things that are done? Why do +naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? Nobody is +naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really repents +unless they are afraid they are going to be found out." + +"By 'nobody' of course you mean women, said Irais. + +"Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the +courage of their opinions." + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais in the amiably +polite tone she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. + +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting round the fire, +waiting for the New Year, and sipping Glubwein, prepared at a small +table by the Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, and rather nasty, but +it is proper to drink it on this one night, so of course we did. + +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon discovered +that, and laugh about it when we are alone together. I can understand +her disliking Irais, but she must be a perverse creature not to like me. +Irais has poked fun at her, and I have been, I hope, very kind; yet we +are bracketed together in her black books. It is also apparent that she +looks upon the Man of Wrath as an interesting example of an ill-used and +misunderstood husband, and she is disposed to take him under her wing, +and defend him on all occasions against us. He never speaks to her; he +is at all times a man of few words, but, as far as Minora is concerned, +he might have no tongue at all, and sits sphinx-like and impenetrable +while she takes us to task about some remark of a profane nature that we +may have addressed to him. One night, some days after her arrival, she +developed a skittishness of manner which has since disappeared, and +tried to be playful with him; but you might as well try to be playful +with a graven image. The wife of one of the servants had just produced a +boy, the first after a series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank +the health of all parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the +happy father drink a glass off at one gulp, his heels well together in +military fashion. Minora thought the incident typical of German +manners, and not only made notes about it, but joined heartily in the +health-drinking, and afterward grew skittish. + +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the +Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England; +and, to induce us to learn, she played the tune to us on the piano. +We remained untouched by its beauties, each buried in an easy-chair +toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst those toes were those of the +Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and smoking. Minora +volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, danced +solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look, +and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve +to be placed in Minora's list of disagreeable people side by side with +Irais? Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. + +"It wants the music, of course," observed Minora breathlessly, darting +in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing at +the Man of Wrath. + +No answer from anybody. + +"It is such a pretty dance," she panted again, after a few more +gyrations. + +No answer. + +"And is all the rage at home." + +No answer. + +"Do let me teach you. Won't you try, Herr Sage?" + +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she +always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to every +one else, that he resents it. + +"Oh come, put away that tiresome old book," she went on gaily, as he did +not move; "I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that you +just nod over. Dancing is much better for you." Irais and I looked at +one another quite frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the +unhappy girl actually laid hold forcibly of his book, and, with a +playful little shriek, ran away with it into the next room, hugging it +to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she +ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. Then the +Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of his cigar, +looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his own +rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, I +must say, been skittish since. + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais, "because this sort +of conversation is likely to do you good." + +"I always listen when people talk sensibly," replied Minora, stirring +her grog. + +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. "Do you agree with +our hostess's description of women?" she asked after a pause. + +"As nobodies? No, of course I do not." + +"Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally nobodies in +our country. Did you know that women are forbidden to go to political +meetings here?" "Really?" Out came the note-book. + +"The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings of women, +children, and idiots." + +"Children and idiots--I understand that," said Minora; "but women--and +classed with children and idiots?" + +"Classed with children and idiots," repeated Irais, gravely nodding her +head. "Did you know that the law forbids females of any age to ride on +the top of omnibuses or tramcars?" + +"Not really?" + +"Do you know why?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps +catch a glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles." + +"But what--" + +"Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?" + +"But I don't see how a stocking--" + +"With stripes round it," said Irais. + +"And darns in it," I added, "--could possibly be pernicious?" + +"'The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,'" +said Irais. "Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany." + +"I never know," complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, "whether +you are in earnest or not." + +"Don't you?" said Irais sweetly. + +"Is it true," appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons +in the background, "that your law classes women with children and +idiots?" + +"Certainly," he answered promptly, "and a very proper classification, +too." + +We all looked blank. "That's rude," said I at last. + +"Truth is always rude, my dear," he replied complacently. Then he added, +"If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had previously +enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, of listening to the +conversation of you three young ladies, I should make precisely the same +classification." + +Even Minora was incensed at this. + +"You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we are idiots," +said Irais. + +"Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,--nice little agreeable +children. I very much like to hear you talk together. It is all so young +and fresh what you think and what you believe, and not of the least +consequence to any one. + +"Not of the least consequence?" cried Minora. "What we believe is of +very great consequence indeed to us." + +"Are you jeering at our beliefs?" inquired Irais sternly. + +"Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb or change your +pretty little beliefs. It is your chief charm that you always believe +every-thing. How desperate would our case be if young ladies only +believed facts, and never accepted another person's assurance, but +preferred the evidence of their own eyes! They would have no illusions, +and a woman without illusions is the dreariest and most difficult thing +to manage possible." + +"Thing?" protested Irais. + +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it from time to time +by holding forth at unnecessary length. He took up his stand now with +his back to the fire, and a glass of Glubwein in his hand. Minora had +hardly heard his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, and +sat with her pencil raised, ready to fix for ever the wisdom that should +flow from his lips. + +"What would become of poetry if women became so sensible that they +turned a deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? That love does +indulge in platitudes I suppose you will admit." He looked at Irais. + +"Yes, they all say exactly the same thing," she acknowledged. + +"Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, +if the listener's want of imagination was such as to enable her only to +distinguish one victim in the picture, and that one herself?" + +Minora took that down word for word,--much good may it do her. + +"Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused he will die, if +his assurances merely elicit a recommendation to diet himself, and take +plenty of outdoor exercise? Women are responsible for such lies, because +they believe them. Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so +gross that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to tell the +precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to. Who indulges +more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than the lover who hopes, and +has not yet obtained? He will, like the nightingale, sing with unceasing +modulations, display all his talent, untiringly repeat his +sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his song, like the +nightingale's, immediately ceases, never again to be heard." + +"Take that down," murmured Irais aside to Minora--unnecessary advice, +for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. + +"A woman's vanity is so immeasurable that, after having had ninety-nine +object-lessons in the difference between promise and performance and the +emptiness of pretty speeches, the beginning of the hundredth will find +her lending the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence +of flattery as she did on the occasion of the first. What can the +exhortations of the strong-minded sister, who has never had these +experiences, do for such a woman? It is useless to tell her she is man's +victim, that she is his plaything, that she is cheated, down-trodden, +kept under, laughed at, shabbily treated in every way--that is not a +true statement of the case. She is simply the victim of her own vanity, +and against that, against the belief in her own fascinations, against +the very part of herself that gives all the colour to her life, who +shall expect a woman to take up arms?" + +"Are you so vain, Elizabeth?" inquired Irais with a shocked face, "and +had you lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine before +you reached your final destiny?" + +"I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose," I replied, "for nobody ever +wanted me to listen to blandishments." + +Minora sighed. + +"I like to hear you talk together about the position of women," he +went on, "and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly +the position they are fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy +a better, no power on earth will be able to keep them out of it. +Meanwhile, let me warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded +women wish to see you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are +invariably plain. The pretty ones would rather see men their slaves than +their equals." + +"You know," said Irais, frowning, "that I consider myself +strong-minded." + +"And never rise till lunch-time?" + +Irais blushed. Although I don't approve of such conduct, it is very +convenient in more ways than one; I get through my housekeeping +undisturbed, and whenever she is disposed to lecture me, I begin about +this habit of hers. Her conscience must be terribly stricken on the +point, for she is by no means as a rule given to meekness. + +"A woman without vanity would be unattackable," resumed the Man of +Wrath. "When a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, she +is led solely by her own vanity; for in these days of policemen no young +woman can be forced against her will from the path of virtue, and the +cries of the injured are never heard until the destroyer begins to +express his penitence for having destroyed. If his passion could +remain at white-heat and he could continue to feed her ear with the +protestations she loves, no principles of piety or virtue would disturb +the happiness of his companion; for a mournful experience teaches that +piety begins only where passion ends, and that principles are strongest +where temptations are most rare." + +"But what has all this to do with us?" I inquired severely. + +"You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, and I merely +wish to justify it," he answered. "Creatures who habitually say yes to +everything a man proposes, when no one can oblige them to say it, and +when it is so often fatal, are plainly not responsible beings." + +"I shall never say it to you again, my dear man," I said. + +"And not only that fatal weakness," he continued, "but what is there, +candidly, to distinguish you from children? You are older, but not +wiser,--really not so wise, for with years you lose the common sense you +had as children. Have you ever heard a group of women talking reasonably +together?" + +"Yes--we do!" Irais and I cried in a breath. + +"It has interested me," went on the Man of Wrath, "in my idle moments, +to listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little +stories they told of their best friends who were absent, to note the +spiteful little digs they gave their best friends who were present, to +watch the utter incredulity with which they listened to the tale of +some other woman's conquests, the radiant good faith they displayed in +connection with their own, the instant collapse into boredom, if some +topic of so-called general interest, by some extraordinary chance, +were introduced." "You must have belonged to a particularly nice set," +remarked Irais. + +"And as for politics," he said, "I have never heard them mentioned among +women." + +"Children and idiots are not interested in such things," I said. + +"And we are much too frightened of being put in prison," said Irais. + +"In prison?" echoed Minora. + +"Don't you know," said Irais, turning to her "that if you talk about +such things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?" + +"But why?" + +"But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant nothing but what +was innocent, your words may have suggested something less innocent to +the evil minds of your hearers; and then the law steps in, and calls +it dolus eventualis, and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to +prison and are punished as you deserve to be." + +Minora looked mystified. + +"That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them," said +the Man of Wrath; "they simply do not interest you. Or it may be, that +you do not consider your female friends' opinions worth listening to, +for you certainly display an astonishing thirst for information when +male politicians are present. I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly +in her twenties, sitting a whole evening drinking in the doubtful wisdom +of an elderly political star, with every appearance of eager interest. +He was a bimetallic star, and was giving her whole pamphletsful of +information." + +"She wanted to make up to him for some reason," said Irais, "and got him +to explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken in. Now +which was the sillier in that case?" + +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, beating her +foot impatiently on the carpet. + +"She wanted to be thought clever," said the Man of Wrath. "What puzzled +me," he went on musingly, "was that she went away apparently as serene +and happy as when she came. The explanation of the principles of +bimetallism produce, as a rule, a contrary effect." + +"Why, she hadn't been listening," cried Irais, "and your simple star had +been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. + + "Prattle, prattle, simple star, + Bimetallic, wunderbar. + Though you're given to describe + Woman as a dummes Weib. + You yourself are sillier far, + Prattling, bimetallic star!" + +"No doubt she had understood very little," said the Man of Wrath, taking +no notice of this effusion. + +"And no doubt the gentleman hadn't understood much either." Irais was +plainly irritated. + +"Your opinion of woman," said Minora in a very small voice, "is not +a high one. But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree that no one +could take her place?" + +"If you are thinking of hospital-nurses," I said, "I must tell you that +I believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife instead of a +strange woman to nurse him when he is sick." + +"But," said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being +knocked about, "the sick-room is surely the very place of all others in +which a woman's gentleness and tact are most valuable." + +"Gentleness and tact?" repeated the Man of Wrath. "I have never met +those qualities in the professional nurse. According to my experience, +she is a disagreeable person who finds in private nursing exquisite +opportunities for asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate +mankind. I know of no more humiliating position for a man than to be +in bed having his feverish brow soothed by a sprucely-dressed strange +woman, bristling with starch and spotlessness. He would give half his +income for his clothes, and probably the other half if she would leave +him alone, and go away altogether. He feels her superiority through +every pore; he never before realised how absolutely inferior he is; he +is abjectly polite, and contemptibly conciliatory; if a friend comes to +see him, he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening behind +the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far more +intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really belongs to him; he +has read of ministering angels and the light touch of a woman's hand, +but the day on which he can ring for his servant and put on his socks in +private fills him with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt as +a homesick schoolboy at the end of his first term." + +Minora was silent. Irais's foot was livelier than ever. The Man of Wrath +stood smiling blandly down upon us. You can't argue with a person so +utterly convinced of his infallibility that he won't even get angry with +you; so we sat round and said nothing. + +"If," he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, "you doubt +the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of +noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the +rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try +for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, whether the actual +fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief. The angel who is +to alleviate our sufferings comes in such a questionable shape, that +to the unimaginative she appears merely as an extremely self-confident +young woman, wisely concerned first of all in securing her personal +comfort, much given to complaints about her food and to helplessness +where she should be helpful, possessing an extraordinary capacity for +fancying herself slighted, or not regarded as the superior being she +knows herself to be, morbidly anxious lest the servants should, by some +mistake, treat her with offensive cordiality, pettish if the patient +gives more trouble than she had expected, intensely injured and +disagreeable if he is made so courageous by his wretchedness as to wake +her during the night--an act of desperation of which I was guilty once, +and once only. Oh, these good women! What sane man wants to have to do +with angels? And especially do we object to having them about us when we +are sick and sorry, when we feel in every fibre what poor things we are, +and when all our fortitude is needed to enable us to bear our temporary +inferiority patiently, without being forced besides to assume an +attitude of eager and grovelling politeness towards the angel in the +house." + +There was a pause. + +"I didn't know you could talk so much, Sage," said Irais at length. + +"What would you have women do, then?" asked Minora meekly. Irais began +to beat her foot up and down again,--what did it matter what Men of +Wrath would have us do? "There are not," continued Minora, blushing, +"husbands enough for every one, and the rest must do something." + +"Certainly," replied the oracle. "Study the art of pleasing by dress and +manner as long as you are of an age to interest us, and above all, +let all women, pretty and plain, married and single, study the art +of cookery. If you are an artist in the kitchen you will always be +esteemed." + +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, has +learned to cook; I seem to have been the only one who was naughty and +wouldn't. + +"Only be careful," he went on, "in studying both arts, never to forget +the great truth that dinner precedes blandishments and not blandishments +dinner. A man must be made comfortable before he will make love to you; +and though it is true that if you offered him a choice between Spickgans +and kisses, he would say he would take both, yet he would invariably +begin with the Spickgans, and allow the kisses to wait." + +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. "Your cynicism is +disgusting," I said icily. + +"You two are always exceptions to anything I may say," he said, smiling +amiably. + +He stooped and kissed Irais's hand. She is inordinately vain of her +hands, and says her husband married her for their sake, which I can +quite believe. I am glad they are on her and not on Minora, for if +Minora had had them I should have been annoyed. Minora's are bony, with +chilly-looking knuckles, ignored nails, and too much wrist. I feel very +well disposed towards her when my eye falls on them. She put one forward +now, evidently thinking it would be kissed too. + +"Did you know," said Irais, seeing the movement, "that it is the custom +here to kiss women's hands?" + +"But only married women's," I added, not desiring her to feel out of it, +"never young girls'." + +She drew it in again. "It is a pretty custom," she said with a sigh; and +pensively inscribed it in her book. + + +January 15th.--The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last year's +horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down +to breakfast this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is +expensive, I find, when it has to be paid for out of one's own private +pin-money. The Man of Wrath does not in the least want roses, or +flowering shrubs, or plantations, or new paths, and therefore, he asks, +why should he pay for them? So he does not and I do, and I have to make +up for it by not indulging all too riotously in new clothes, which is no +doubt very chastening. I certainly prefer buying new rose-trees to new +dresses, if I cannot comfortably have both; and I see a time coming when +the passion for my garden will have taken such a hold on me that I shall +not only entirely cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell those +that I already have. The garden is so big that everything has to be +bought wholesale; and I fear I shall not be able to go on much longer +with only one man and a stork, because the more I plant the more there +will be to water in the inevitable drought, and the watering is a +serious consideration when it means going backwards and forwards all day +long to a pump near the house, with a little water-cart. People living +in England, in almost perpetual mildness and moisture, don't really know +what a drought is. If they have some weeks of cloudless weather, it is +generally preceded and followed by good rains; but we have perhaps an +hour's shower every week, and then comes a month or six weeks' drought. +The soil is very light, and dries so quickly that, after the heaviest +thunder-shower, I can walk over any of my paths in my thin shoes; and to +keep the garden even moderately damp it should pour with rain regularly +every day for three hours. My only means of getting water is to go to +the pump near the house, or to the little stream that forms my eastern +boundary, and the little stream dries up too unless there has been rain, +and is at the best of times difficult to get at, having steep banks +covered with forget-me-nots. I possess one moist, peaty bit of ground, +and that is to be planted with silver birches in imitation of the +Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted between the birches with flaming +azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy--the soil for pines and +acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what love will do--there +are more roses in my garden than any other flower! Next spring the bare +places are to be filled with trees that I have ordered: pines behind the +delicate acacias, and startling mountain-ashes, oaks, copper-beeches, +maples, larches, juniper-trees--was it not Elijah who sat down to rest +under a juniper-tree? I have often wondered how he managed to get under +it. It is a compact little tree, not more than two to three yards high +here, and all closely squeezed up together. Perhaps they grew more +aggressively where he was. By the time the babies have grown old and +disagreeable it will be very pretty here, and then possibly they won't +like it; and, if they have inherited the Man of Wrath's indifference to +gardens, they will let it run wild and leave it to return to the state +in which I found it. Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to live +in it, or to come to such a lonely place at all, and then of course its +fate is sealed. My only comfort is that husbands don't flourish in the +desert, and that the three will have to wait a long time before enough +are found to go round. Mothers tell me that it is a dreadful business +finding one husband; how much more painful then to have to look for +three at once!--the babies are so nearly the same age that they only +just escaped being twins. But I won't look. I can imagine nothing more +uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, I don't think a husband is +at all a good thing for a girl to have. I shall do my best in the years +at my disposal to train them so to love the garden, and out-door life, +and even farming, that, if they have a spark of their mother in them, +they will want and ask for nothing better. My hope of success is however +exceedingly small, and there is probably a fearful period in store for +me when I shall be taken every day during the winter to the distant +towns to balls--a poor old mother shivering in broad daylight in her +party gown, and being made to start after an early lunch and not +getting home till breakfast-time next morning. Indeed, they have already +developed an alarming desire to go to "partings" as they call them, the +April baby announcing her intention of beginning to do so when she is +twelve. "Are you twelve, Mummy?" she asked. + +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am trying to find +another. It is grievous changing so often--in two years I shall have +had three--because at each change a great part of my plants and plans +necessarily suffers. Seeds get lost, seedlings are not pricked out in +time, places already sown are planted with something else, and there +is confusion out of doors and despair in my heart. But he was to have +married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost and immediately left, and he +is going after her as soon as he can, and meanwhile is wasting visibly +away. What she saw was doors that are locked opening with a great +clatter all by themselves on the hingeside, and then somebody invisible +cursed at her. These phenomena now go by the name of "the ghost." She +asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had never been in a place +where there was a ghost before. I suggested that she should try and get +used to it; but she thought it would be wasting time, and she looked so +ill that I let her go, and the garden has to suffer. I don't know why +it should be given to cooks to see such interesting things and withheld +from me, but I have had two others since she left, and they both have +seen the ghost. Minora grows very silent as bed-time approaches, and +relents towards Irais and myself; and, after having shown us all day how +little she approves us, when the bedroom candles are brought she quite +begins to cling. She has once or twice anxiously inquired whether Irais +is sure she does not object to sleeping alone. + +"If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company," she said; +"I don't mind at all, I assure you." + +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, and has told me +she would rather sleep with fifty ghosts than with one Minora. + +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her parent's bedside +I have seen a good deal of the babies; and it is so nice without a +governess that I would put off engaging another for a year or two, if it +were not that I should in so doing come within the reach of the arm of +the law, which is what every German spends his life in trying to avoid. +The April baby will be six next month, and, after her sixth birthday +is passed, we are liable at any moment to receive a visit from a school +inspector, who will inquire curiously into the state of her education, +and, if it is not up to the required standard, all sorts of fearful +things might happen to the guilty parents, probably beginning with +fines, and going on crescendo to dungeons if, owing to gaps between +governesses and difficulties in finding the right one, we persisted in +our evil courses. Shades of the prison-house begin to close here upon +the growing boy, and prisons compass the Teuton about on every side +all through life to such an extent that he has to walk very delicately +indeed if he would stay outside them and pay for their maintenance. +Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect to teach their offspring +to read, and write, and say their prayers, and are apt to resent the +intrusion of an examining inspector into their homes; but it does +not much matter after all, and I daresay it is very good for us to be +worried; indeed, a philosopher of my acquaintance declares that people +who are not regularly and properly worried are never any good for +anything. In the eye of the law we are all sinners, and every man is +held to be guilty until he has proved that he is innocent. + +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly trying to +get out of their way for several days, she thought it better to resign +herself, and make the best of it by regarding them as copy, and using +them to fill a chapter in her book. So she took to dogging their +footsteps wherever they went, attended their uprisings and their lyings +down, engaged them, if she could, in intelligent conversation, went with +them into the garden to study their ways when they were sleighing, drawn +by a big dog, and generally made their lives a burden to them. This went +on for three days, and then she settled down to write the result with +the Man of Wrath's typewriter, borrowed whenever her notes for any +chapter have reached the state of ripeness necessary for the process +she describes as "throwing into form." She writes everything with a +typewriter, even her private letters. + +"Don't forget to put in something about a mother's knee," said Irais; +"you can't write effectively about children without that." "Oh, of +course I shall mention that," replied Minora. + +"And pink toes," I added. "There are always toes, and they are never +anything but pink." + +"I have that somewhere," said Minora, turning over her notes. + +"But, after all, babies are not a German speciality," said Irais, "and I +don't quite see why you should bring them into a book of German travels. +Elizabeth's babies have each got the fashionable number of arms and +legs, and are exactly the same as English ones." + +"Oh, but they can't be just the same, you know," said Minora, looking +worried. "It must make a difference living here in this place, and +eating such odd things, and never having a doctor, and never being ill. +Children who have never had measles and those things can't be quite the +same as other children; it must all be in their systems and can't get +out for some reason or other. And a child brought up on chicken and +rice-pudding must be different to a child that eats Spickgans and liver +sausages. And they are different; I can't tell in what way, but +they certainly are; and I think if I steadily describe them from the +materials I have collected the last three days, I may perhaps hit on the +points of difference." + +"Why bother about points of difference?" asked Irais. "I should write +some little thing, bringing in the usual parts of the picture, such as +knees and toes, and make it mildly pathetic." + +"But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do," said Minora +plaintively; "I have so little experience of children." + +"Then why write it at all?" asked that sensible person Elizabeth. + +"I have as little experience as you," said Irais, "because I have no +children; but if you don't yearn after startling originality, nothing is +easier than to write bits about them. I believe I could do a dozen in an +hour." + +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, and scribbled +for about five minutes. "There," she said, throwing it to Minora, "you +may have it--pink toes and all complete." + +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: + +"When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at bed-time my stale +and battered soul is filled with awe. All sorts of vague memories crowd +into my mind--memories of my own mother and myself--how many years +ago!--of the sweet helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in her +arms, and undressed, and put in my cot, without being wakened; of the +angels I believed in; of little children coming straight from heaven, +and still being surrounded, so long as they were good, by the shadow of +white wings,--all the dear poetic nonsense learned, just as my baby is +learning it, at her mother's knee. She has not an idea of the beauty +of the charming things she is told, and stares wide-eyed, with heavenly +eyes, while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come from, +and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. At two +years old she does not understand angels, and does understand bread and +milk; at five she has vague notions about them, and prefers bread and +milk; at ten both bread and milk and angels have been left behind in +the nursery, and she has already found out that they are luxuries not +necessary to her everyday life. In later years she may be disinclined to +accept truths second-hand, insist on thinking for herself, be earnest in +her desire to shake off exploded traditions, be untiring in her efforts +to live according to a high moral standard and to be strong, and pure, +and good--" + +"Like tea," explained Irais. + +"--yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth part +of the charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, her +first reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother's knees. I love to come in +at bed-time and sit in the window in the setting sunshine watching the +mysteries of her going to bed. Her mother tubs her, for she is far too +precious to be touched by any nurse, and then she is rolled up in a +big bath towel, and only her little pink toes peep out; and when she is +powdered, and combed, and tied up in her night-dress, and all her curls +are on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt down on her mother's lap, +a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face reflects the quiet of +her mother's face as she goes through her evening prayer for pity and +for peace." + +"How very curious!" said Minora, when she had finished. "That is exactly +what I was going to say." + +"Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; you can +copy that if you like." "But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?" I +asked. + +"Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch," she replied; +"it will make people really think a man wrote the book. You know I am +going to take a man's name." + +"That is precisely what I imagined," said Irais. "You will call yourself +John Jones, or George Potts, or some such sternly commonplace name, to +emphasise your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses, +and no one will be taken in." + +"I really think, Elizabeth," said Irais to me later, when the click of +Minora's typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room, "that you and +I are writing her book for her. She takes down everything we say. Why +does she copy all that about the baby? I wonder why mothers' knees are +supposed to be touching? I never learned anything at them, did you? But +then in my case they were only stepmother's, and nobody ever sings their +praises." + +"My mother was always at parties," I said; "and the nurse made me say my +prayers in French." + +"And as for tubs and powder," went on Irais, "when I was a baby such +things were not the fashion. There were never any bathrooms, and no +tubs; our faces and hands were washed, and there was a foot-bath in the +room, and in the summer we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards for +fear we might catch cold. My stepmother didn't worry much; she used to +wear pink dresses all over lace, and the older she got the prettier the +dresses got. When is she going?" + +"Who? Minora? I haven't asked her that." + +"Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. +She has been here an unconscionable time,--it must be nearly three +weeks." + +"Yes, she came the same day you did," I said pleasantly. + +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to +neglect one's art than one's husband, and her husband is lying all this +time stretched on a bed of sickness, while she is spending her days so +agreeably with me. She has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or +any other business in the world than just to stay on chatting with me, +and reading, and singing, and laughing at any one there is to laugh at, +and kissing the babies, and tilting with the Man of Wrath. Naturally I +love her--she is so pretty that anybody with eyes in his head must love +her--but too much of anything is bad, and next month the passages and +offices are to be whitewashed, and people who have ever whitewashed +their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while it +is being done; and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those +succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. I +shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring +every day anxiously after her husband's health. She is not very fond of +him, because he does not run and hold the door open for her every time +she gets up to leave the room; and though she has asked him to do so, +and told him how much she wishes he would, he still won't. She stayed +once in a house where there was an Englishman, and his nimbleness in +regard to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has had no +peace since, and each time she has to go out of a room she is reminded +of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut door is to her symbolic of the +failure of her married life, and the very sight of one makes her wonder +why she was born; at least, that is what she told me once, in a burst +of confidence. He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant to talk +to, good-tempered, and full of fun; but he thinks he is too old to begin +to learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has that horror of being +made better by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men, and +is shared by the Man of Wrath, who persists in holding his glass in +his left hand at meals, because if he did not (and I don't believe he +particularly likes doing it) his relations might say that marriage +has improved him, and thus drive the iron into his soul. This habit +occasions an almost daily argument between one or other of the babies +and myself. + +"April, hold your glass in your right hand." + +"But papa doesn't." + +"When you are as old as papa you can do as you like." + +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, "And +only think how strange it would look if everybody held their glasses +so." + +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. + + +January 28th.--It is very cold,--fifteen degrees of frost Reaumur, but +perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels jolly and +energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. The two young ladies +are still here, but the air is so buoyant that even they don't weigh on +me any longer, and besides, they have both announced their approaching +departure, so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace, +and the house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the +spring. + +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a parting +gift to the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, and sat +meekly times innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, that I am not +vain. When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried, and at once +commissioned her to paint hers, so that she may take it away with her +and give it to her husband on his birthday, which happens to be early in +February. Indeed, if it were not for this birthday, I really think she +would have forgotten to go at all; but birthdays are great and solemn +festivals with us, never allowed to slip by unnoticed, and always +celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations (gathered +from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, and that nobody +would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), who stand round +a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years are offered up as +a burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink and white +candles, stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. The cake with its +candles is the chief feature, and on the table round it lie the gifts +each person present is more or less bound to give. As my birthday +falls in the winter I get mittens as well as blotting-books and +photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer I should get +photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; but whatever the +present may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be welcomed with the +noisiest gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, and such words as +entzuckend, reizend, herrlich, wundervoll, and suss repeated over and +over again, until the unfortunate Geburtstagskind feels indeed that +another year has gone, and that she has grown older, and wiser, and more +tired of folly and of vain repetitions. A flag is hoisted, and all +the morning the rites are celebrated, the cake eaten, healths drunk, +speeches made, and hands nearly shaken off. The neighbouring parsons +drive up, and when nobody is looking their wives count the candles in +the cake; the active lady in the next Schlass spares time to send a pot +of flowers, and to look up my age in the Gotha Almanach; a deputation +comes from the farms headed by the chief inspector in white kid gloves +who invokes Heaven's blessings on the gracious lady's head; and the +babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner trying on all the mittens. +In the evening there is a dinner for the relations and the chief local +authorities, with more health-drinking and speechifying, and the next +morning, when I come downstairs thankful to have done with it, I +am confronted by the altar still in its place, cake crumbs and +candle-grease and all, because any hasty removal of it would imply a +most lamentable want of sentiment, deplorable in anybody, but scandalous +and disgusting in a tender female. All birthdays are observed in this +fashion, and not a few wise persons go for a short trip just about the +time theirs is due, and I think I shall imitate them next year; only +trips to the country or seaside in December are not usually pleasant, +and if I go to a town there are sure to be relations in it, and then +the cake will spring up mushroom-like from the teeming soil of their +affection. + +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais and +myself are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further proof +were needed, it is furnished by the fact that we both, in defiance of +tradition, scorn this celebration of birthday rites. Years ago, when +first I knew her, and long before we were either of us married, I sent +her a little brass candlestick on her birthday; and when mine followed a +few months later, she sent me a note-book. No notes were written in it, +and on her next birthday I presented it to her; she thanked me profusely +in the customary manner, and when my turn came I received the brass +candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy the possession of each of +these articles, and the present question is comfortably settled once +and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. We never mention this +little arrangement except at the proper time, when we send a letter of +fervid thanks. + +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, and sitting still over +the fire out of the question, has been going on for more than a week. +Sleighing and skating have been our chief occupation, especially +skating, which is more than usually fascinating here, because the place +is intersected by small canals communicating with a lake and the river +belonging to the lake, and as everything is frozen black and hard, we +can skate for miles straight ahead without being obliged to turn round +and come back again,--at all times an annoying, and even mortifying, +proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: modesty is the only obstacle to my +saying the same of myself; but I may remark that all Germans skate well, +for the simple reason that every year of their lives, for three or four +months, they may do it as much as they like. Minora was astonished and +disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and arriving at the place +where tea meets us half an hour after we had finished. In some places +the banks of the canals are so high that only our heads appear level +with the fields, and it is, as Minora noted in her book, a curious sight +to see three female heads skimming along apparently by themselves, +and enjoying it tremendously. When the banks are low, we appear to be +gliding deliciously over the roughest ploughed fields, with or without +legs according to circumstances. Before we start, I fix on the place +where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and we drive home again; +because skating against the wind is as detestable as skating with it +is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its blowing without the +smallest regard for our convenience. Yesterday, by way of a change, we +went for a picnic to the shores of the Baltic, ice-bound at this +season, and utterly desolate at our nearest point. I have a weakness for +picnics, especially in winter, when the mosquitoes cease from troubling +and the ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many favourite picnic +spots this one on the Baltic is the loveliest and best. As it is a +three-hours' drive, the Man of Wrath is loud in his lamentations when +the special sort of weather comes which means, as experience has taught +him, this particular excursion. There must be deep snow, hard frost, +no wind, and a cloudless sky; and when, on waking up, I see these +conditions fulfilled, then it would need some very potent reason to keep +me from having out a sleigh and going off. It is, I admit, a hard day +for the horses; but why have horses if they are not to take you where +you want to go to, and at the time you want to go? And why should +not horses have hard days as well as everybody else? The Man of Wrath +loathes picnics, and has no eye for nature and frozen seas, and is +simply bored by a long drive through a forest that does not belong to +him; a single turnip on his own place is more admirable in his eyes than +the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that ever reared its snow-crowned +head against the setting sunlight. Now observe the superiority of woman, +who sees that both are good, and after having gazed at the pine and been +made happy by its beauty, goes home and placidly eats the turnip. He +went once and only once to this particular place, and made us feel +so small by his blast behaviour that I never invite him now. It is a +beautiful spot, endless forest stretching along the shore as far as the +eye can reach; and after driving through it for miles you come suddenly, +at the end of an avenue of arching trees, upon the glistening, oily sea, +with the orange-coloured sails of distant fishing-smacks shilling in the +sunlight. Whenever I have been there it has been windless weather, and +the silence so profound that I could hear my pulses beating. The humming +of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are the only sounds in summer, +and in winter the stillness is the stillness of death. + +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is so infested by +mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem most natural, that those +of my visitors who have been taken there for a treat have invariably +lost their tempers, and made the quiet shores ring with their wailing +and lamentations. These despicable but irritating insects don't seem to +have anything to do but to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for +any prey Providence may send them; and as soon as the carriage appears +they rise up in a cloud, and rush to meet us, almost dragging us out +bodily, and never leave us until we drive away again. The sudden view of +the sea from the messy, pine-covered height directly above it where we +picnic; the wonderful stretch of lonely shore with the forest to the +water's edge; the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness--all is lost upon the picnickers, and made +worse than indifferent to them, by the perpetual necessity they are +under of fighting these horrid creatures. It is nice being the only +person who ever goes there or shows it to anybody, but if more people +went, perhaps the mosquitoes would be less lean, and hungry, and pleased +to see us. It has, however, the advantage of being a suitable place to +which to take refractory visitors when they have stayed too long, or +left my books out in the garden all night, or otherwise made their +presence a burden too grievous to be borne; then one fine hot morning +when they are all looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on the +Baltic. I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted with +exclamations of surprise and delight. + +"The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? How +heavenly to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! The very thought +puts new life into one! And how delightful to see the Baltic! Oh, please +take us!" And then I take them. + +But on a brilliant winter's day my conscience is as clear as the frosty +air itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of +spirits, even Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least +provocation. Only our eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and +woollen wrappings necessary to our heads if we would come back with our +ears and noses in the same places they were in when we started, and for +the first two miles the mirth created by each other's strange appearance +was uproarious,--a fact I mention merely to show what an effect dry, +bright, intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how much better +it is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and sulk. As +we passed through the neighbouring village with cracking of whip and +jingling of bells, heads popped up at the windows to stare, and the +only living thing in the silent, sunny street was a melancholy fowl with +ruffled feathers, which looked at us reproachfully, as we dashed with so +much energy over the crackling snow. + +"Oh, foolish bird!" Irais called out as we passed; "you'll be indeed a +cold fowl if you stand there motionless, and every one prefers them hot +in weather like this!" + +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid joke +had been made, and before we had done we were out of the village and +in the open country beyond, and could see my house and garden far away +behind, glittering in the sunshine; and in front of us lay the forest, +with its vistas of pines stretching away into infinity, and a drive +through it of fourteen miles before we reached the sea. It was a +hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted forest leading into +fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often before, and +always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final arch +of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the place. +For a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep blue +line, and a cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a narrow +strip of pale yellow sand; right and left the line of sparkling forest; +and we ourselves standing in a world of white and diamond traceries. The +stillness of an eternal Sunday lay on the place like a benediction. + +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, but she +thought this beat it almost. + +"I don't quite see," said Irais in a hushed voice, as though she were in +a holy place, "how the two can be compared." + +"Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course," replied Minora; after +which we turned away and thought we would keep her quiet by feeding her, +so we went back to the sleigh and had the horses taken out and their +cloths put on, and they were walked up and down a distant glade while +we sat in the sleigh and picnicked. It is a hard day for the +horses,--nearly thirty miles there and back and no stable in the +middle; but they are so fat and spoiled that it cannot do them much harm +sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. I warmed soup in a little +apparatus I have for such occasions, which helped to take the chilliness +off the sandwiches,--this is the only unpleasant part of a winter +picnic, the clammy quality of the provisions just when you most long +for something very hot. Minora let her nose very carefully out of its +wrappings, took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She was +nervous lest it should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add that +her nose is not a bad nose, and might even be pretty on anybody else; +but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in the angle +at which one's nose is held just as in everything else, and really noses +were intended for something besides mere blowing. + +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches with +immense fur and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost as much fur +as anything, and choked exceedingly during the process. Minora was angry +at this, and at last pulled off her glove, but quickly put it on again. + +"How very unpleasant," she remarked after swallowing a large piece of +fur. + +"It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm," said Irais. + +"Pipes!" echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. + +"I'm afraid I can't help you," I said, as she continued to choke and +splutter; "we are all in the same case, and I don't know how to alter +it." "There are such things as forks, I suppose," snapped Minora. + +"That's true," said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; but +of what use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? So Minora had to +continue to eat her gloves. + +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind the trees +and the clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. The old coachman was +given sandwiches and soup, and while he led the horses up and down +with one hand and held his lunch in the other, we packed up--or, to be +correct, I packed, and the others looked on and gave me valuable advice. + +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was born on the +place, and has driven its occupants for fifty years, and I am nearly as +fond of him as I am of the sun-dial; indeed, I don't know what I should +do without him, so entirely does he appear to understand and approve of +my tastes and wishes. No drive is too long or difficult for the horses +if I want to take it, no place impossible to reach if I want to go to +it, no weather or roads too bad to prevent my going out if I wish to: +to all my suggestions he responds with the readiest cheerfulness, and +smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of Wrath, who rewards his +alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking of him as an alter Esel. In +the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and alone in the +scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit quite +still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune +over and over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there are no +nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its +blessedness descend into my very soul. The nightingales in the forests +about here all sing the same tune, and in the same key of (E flat). + +I don't know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar +to this particular spot. When they have sung it once, they clear their +throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the +prettiest little song in the world. How could I indulge my passion for +these drives with their pauses without Peter? He is so used to them that +he stops now at the right moment without having to be told, and he is +ready to drive me all night if I wish it, with no sign of anything but +cheerful willingness on his nice old face. The Man of Wrath deplores +these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, of mine; but has given up +trying to prevent my indulging them because, while he is deploring in +one part of the house, I have slipped out at a door in the other, and am +gone before he can catch me, and have reached and am lost in the shadows +of the forest by the time he has discovered that I am nowhere to be +found. + +The brightness of Peter's perfections are sullied however by one spot, +and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold +the horses in if they don't want to be held in, but he goes to sleep +sometimes on his box if I have him out too soon after lunch, and has +upset me twice within the last year--once last winter out of a sleigh, +and once this summer, when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted +into the ditch on one side of the chaussee (German for high road), and +the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too +into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and the +bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who +never lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue clave +to the roof of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him. + +"But I should think he ought to have been thoroughly scolded on an +occasion like that," said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story +as we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in +the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was +visible between the bushes above us. "Shall we get home before dark?" +she asked. + +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very +highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists +were creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull +brown; a flight of wild geese passed across the disc of the moon with +loud cacklings. + +"Before dark?" echoed Irais, "I should think not. It is dark now nearly +in the forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back." + +"But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive +you," said Minora apprehensively. + +"But he's such an old dear," I said. + +"Yes, yes, no doubt," she replied tastily; "but there are wakeful old +dears to be had, and on a box they are preferable." + +Irais laughed. "You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora," she said. + +"He isn't on a box to-day," said I; "and I never knew him to go to sleep +standing up behind us on a sleigh." But Minora was not to be appeased, +and muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows +how alarmed she was, for it was rude. + +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, and Irais and I at +least were as happy as possible driving back, with all the glories of +the western sky flashing at us every now and then at the end of a long +avenue as we swiftly passed, and later on, when they had faded, myriads +of stars in the narrow black strip of sky over our heads. It was +bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to +laugh with us as she had been six hours before. + +"Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?' inquired Irais, as we got out +of the forest on to the chaussee, and the lights of the village before +ours twinkled in the distance. + +"How many degrees do you suppose there are now?" was Minora's reply to +this question. + +"Degrees?--Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold," cried Irais +solicitously. + +"Well, it isn't exactly warm, is it?" said Minora sulkily; and Irais +pinched me. "Well, but think how much colder you would have been without +all that fur you ate for lunch inside you," she said. "And what a nice +chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic," said I. "Why, it is +practically certain that you are the first English person who has ever +been to just this part of it." + +"Isn't there some English poem," said Irais, "about being the first who +ever burst--" + +"'Into that silent sea,'" finished Minora hastily. "You can't quote that +without its context, you know." + +"But I wasn't going to," said Irais meekly; "I only paused to breathe. I +must breathe, or perhaps I might die." + +The lights from my energetic friend's Schloss shone brightly down upon +us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; she is +very proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it is the only +one in the whole district. + +"Do you never go there?" asked Minora, jerking her head in the direction +of the house. + +"Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel I was in the way +if I went often." + +"It would be interesting to see another North German interior," said +Minora; "and I should be obliged if you would take me. + +"But I can't fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl," I protested; +"and we are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking +all my visitors to see her." + +"What do you want to see another interior for?" asked Irais. "I can tell +you what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak to you, and if +you were to ask questions, and began to take notes, the good lady would +stare at you in the frankest amazement, and think Elizabeth had brought +a young lunatic out for an airing. Everybody is not as patient as +Elizabeth," added Irais, anxious to pay off old scores. + +"I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora," I said, "but I can't do +that." + +"If we went," said Irais, "Elizabeth and I would be placed with great +ceremony on a sofa behind a large, polished oval table with a crochetmat +in the centre--it has got a crochet-mat in the centre, hasn't it?" I +nodded. "And you would sit on one of the four little podgy, buttony, +tasselly red chairs that are ranged on the other side of the table +facing the sofa. They are red, Elizabeth?" Again I nodded. "The floor +is painted yellow, and there is no carpet except a rug in front of the +sofa. The paper is dark chocolate colour, almost black; that is in order +that after years of use the dirt may not show, and the room need not be +done up. Dirt is like wickedness, you see, Miss Minora--its being there +never matters; it is only when it shows so much as to be apparent to +everybody that we are ashamed of it. At intervals round the high walls +are chairs, and cabinets with lamps on them, and in one corner is a +great white cold stove--or is it majolica?" she asked, turning to me. + +"No, it is white." + +"There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let in the air +and the sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown lace curtains +under heavy stuff ones as though a whole row of houses were just +opposite, with peering eyes at every window trying to look in, instead +of there only being fields, and trees, and birds. No fire, no sunlight, +no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage coming up +under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds." + +"When did you go there?" asked Minora. + +"Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been +calling there all my life." + +Minora's eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the +depths of her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark +eyelashes, and far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself +is fine, but they are put in all wrong. + +"The only thing you would learn there," went on Irais, "would be +the significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went there +together, I should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, +because it is the place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; +Elizabeth would be invited to seat herself in the left-hand corner, as +next in importance; the hostess would sit near us in an arm-chair; and +you, as a person of no importance whatever, would either be left to +sit where you could, or would be put on a chair facing us, and with the +entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense social +gulf that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. These sofa +corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible in a way that +nothing else could. The world might come to an end, and create less +sensation in doing it, than you would, Miss Minora, if by any chance you +got into the right-hand corner of one. That you are put on a chair +on the other side of the table places you at once in the scale of +precedence, and exactly defines your social position, or rather your +complete want of a social position." And Irais tilted her nose ever so +little heavenwards. + +"Note it," she added, "as the heading of your next chapter." + +"Note what?" asked Minora impatiently. + +"Why,'The Subtle Significance of Sofas', of course," replied Irais. +"If," she continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this +suggestion, "you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues +the innocent would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the +distracted mistress of the house would keep you waiting in the cold room +so long while she changed her dress, that you would begin to fear you +were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and when she did appear, +would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the rage that was +boiling in her heart." + +"But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing?" + +"What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent--pardon my +familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs is very touching +in one who is writing a book about them." + +"Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant," said Minora loftily. + +"Seasons of washing," explained Irais, "are seasons set apart by the +Hausfrau to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, +and while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every other +consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into insignificance, +and no one approaching, or interfering with the mistress of the house +during these days of purification, but at their peril." + +"You Don't Really Mean," Said Minora, "that You Only Wash Your Clothes +Four Times A Year? + +"Yes, I do mean it," replied Irais. + +"Well, I think that is very disgusting," said Minora emphatically. + +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. "Then you must +take care and not marry a German," she said. + +"But what is the object of it?" went on Minora. + +"Why, to clean the linen, I suppose." + +"Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?" + +"It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape of +linen. If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, as +you do in England, you would be put down as a person who only has just +enough to last that length of time, and would be an object of general +contempt." + +"But I should be a clean object," cried Minora, "and my house would not +be full of accumulated dirt." + +We said nothing--there was nothing to be said. + +"It must be a happy land, that England of yours," Irais remarked after +a while with a sigh--a beatific vision no doubt presenting itself to +her mind of a land full of washerwomen and agile gentlemen darting at +door-handles. + +"It is a clean land, at any rate," replied Minora. + +"I don't want to go and live in it," I said--for we were driving up to +the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came into my mind as I +looked up fondly at its dear old west front, and I felt that what I +want is to live and die just here, and that there never was such a happy +woman as Elizabeth. + + +April 18th.--I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left that +I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying on its +green and flowered petticoat--only its petticoat as yet, for though the +underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, the trees above are +still quite bare. + +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, so deeply was +I engaged in making hot-beds, and having them sown with petunias, +verbenas, and nicotina affinis; while no less than thirty are dedicated +solely to vegetables, it having been borne in upon me lately that +vegetables must be interesting things to grow, besides possessing solid +virtues not given to flowers, and that I might as well take the orchard +and kitchen garden under my wing. So I have rushed in with all the zeal +of utter inexperience, and my February evenings were spent poring over +gardening books, and my days in applying the freshly absorbed wisdom. +Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the country? It +was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, and its mild days +enabled me to get on beautifully with the digging and manuring, and +filled my rooms with snowdrops. The longer I live the greater is my +respect and affection for manure in all its forms, and already, though +the year is so young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been +spent on artificial manure. The Man of Wrath says he never met a young +woman who spent her money that way before; I remarked that it must be +nice to have an original wife; and he retorted that the word original +hardly described me, and that the word eccentric was the one required. +Very well, I suppose I am eccentric, since even my husband says so; but +if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature as to result later +in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest lettuce in Prussia, why then +he ought to be the first to rise up and call me blessed. + +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they are not grown +here, and people try and make boiled cucumbers take their place; but +boiled cucumbers are nasty things, and I don't see why marrows should +not do here perfectly well. These, and primrose-roots, are the English +contributions to my garden. I brought over the roots in a tin box +last time I came from England, and am anxious to see whether they +will consent to live here. Certain it is that they don't exist in the +Fatherland, so I can only conclude the winter kills them, for surely, +if such lovely things would grow, they never would have been overlooked. +Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so many English +books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they have got so mixed +up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and Disraelis, that she longs +to see this mysterious political flower, and has made me promise to +telegraph when it appears, and she will come over. Bur they are not +going to do anything this year, and I only hope those cold days did +not send them off to the Paradise of flowers. I am afraid their first +impression of Germany was a chilly one. + +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and +the babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the +numerous relations staying with her have left,--"which they won't do," +she wrote the other day, "until the first frosts nip them off, when they +will disappear like belated dahlias--double ones of course, for single +dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations. I have every sort +of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and here they have been ever since +my husband's birthday--not the same ones exactly, but I get so confused +that I never know where one ends and the other begins. My husband goes +off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I am left at +their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at--I should be grateful +even for one, and would look at it from morning till night, and quite +stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay at home and have the +truth told me by enigmatic aunts. Do you know my Aunt Bertha? she, +in particular, spends her time propounding obscure questions for my +solution. I get so tired and worried trying to guess the answers, which +are always truths supposed to be good for me to hear. 'Why do you wear +your hair on your forehead?' she asks,--and that sets me off wondering +why I do wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to know for, +or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer +truthfully. 'I am sure I don't know, aunt,' I say meekly, after puzzling +over it for ever so long; 'perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring and ask +her?' And then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly line she +says I have down the middle of my forehead, and that betokens a listless +and discontented disposition. Well, if she knew, what did she ask me +for? Whenever I am with them they ask me riddles like that, and I +simply lead a dog's life. Oh, my dear, relations are like drugs,--useful +sometimes, and even pleasant, if taken in small quantities and seldom, +but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, and the truly wise avoid them." + +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, in +which she thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending me +a bottle of English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; that +it was wonderful stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that it +cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. Was +it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at her? Was +she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was it merely +Minora's idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for bruises, +nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing exercise, +and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she did happen +to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of tumbling +down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly +veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps, +received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; I had +been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, but the best +of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his own use. But why +waste a thought on Minora at Easter, the real beginning of the year in +defiance of calendars. She belongs to the winter that is past, to the +darkness that is over, and has no part or lot in the life I shall lead +for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for joy that the +spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there is in my garden, and +of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant Easter day +I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the windflowers and +celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald, +to see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon was +so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up through the +leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, fat little white +clouds floating motionless in the blue. We had tea on the grass in the +sun, and when it began to grow late, and the babies were in bed, and all +the little wind-flowers folded up for the night, I still wandered in +the green paths, my heart full of happiest gratitude. It makes one +very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of beauty and +perfection anonymously lavished, and to think of the infinite meanness +of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we are if they are +not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely trust that the +benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may by degrees +be more deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and +cheerfulness, just like the happy flowers I so much love. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Elizabeth and her German Garden, by +"Elizabeth", AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN *** + +***** This file should be named 1327.txt or 1327.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/1327/ + +Produced by R. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION + +Originally published in 1898, "Elizabeth and her German Garden" +is the first book by Marie Annette Beauchamp--known all +her life as "Elizabeth". The book, anonymously published, +was an incredible success, going through printing after +printing by several publishers over the next few years. +(I myself own three separate early editions of this book +by different publishers on both sides of the Atlantic.) +The present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated +deluxe MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. + +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer +Katherine Mansfield (whose real name was Kathleen Mansfield +Beauchamp). Born in Australia, Elizabeth was educated in England. +She was reputed to be a fine organist and musician. +At a young age, she captured the heart of a German Count, +was persuaded to marry him, and went to live in Germany. +Over the next years she bore five daughters. After her husband's +death and the decline of the estate, she returned to England. +She was a friend to many of high social standing, including people +such as H. G. Wells (who considered her one of the finest +wits of the day). Some time later she married the brother of +Bertrand Russell; which marriage was a failure and ended in divorce. +Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at the outbreak of the Second +World War, and there died in 1941. + +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name +"Elizabeth von Arnim", author of "The Enchanted April" +which was recently made into a successful film by the same title. +Another of her books, "Mr. Skeffington" was also once made +into a film starring Bette Davis, circa 1940. + +Some of Elizabeth's work is published in modern +editions by Virago and other publishers. Among these are: +"Love", "The Enchanted April", "Caravaners", "Christopher and +Columbus", "The Pastor's Wife", "Mr. Skeffington", "The Solitary +Summer", and "Elizabeth's Adventures in Rugen". Also published +by Virago is her non-autobiography "All the Dogs of My Life"-- +as the title suggests, it is the story not of her life, +but of the lives of the many dogs she owned; though of course +it does touch upon her own experiences. + +In the centennial year of this book's first publication, +I hope that its availability through Project Gutenberg will stir +some renewed interest in Elizabeth and her delightful work. +She is, I would venture, my favorite author; and I hope that soon +she will be one of your favorites. + + R. McGowan + San Jose, April 11 1998. + +-------------------------------------------------------------------- +-------------------------------------------------------------------- + +NOTES: The first page of the book contains two musical phrases, +marked in the text below between square brackets []. Since this +is the first Gutenberg release, pagination is retained between angle +brackets <> to facilitate proofreading and correction for subsequent +editions. + +-------------------------------------------------------------------- +-------------------------------------------------------------------- + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. +1900 + +First Edition, September, 1898. Reprinted November, 1898: +December, 1898; March, May, and July, 1899 (twice); August +and October, 1899 (twice). New Edition with additions set up +and electrotyped July, 1900. Reprinted September, 1900. +New Edition with Illustrations, October, 1900. + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +The house from the southwest........ Frontispiece +April, May, and June. (Vignette)..... Title Page + Facing Page +The hall..................................... 4 +The entrance to the garden................... 32 +Filled with flowers for one woman by herself. 36 +The church................................... 48 +The Russians ploughing....................... 110 +Russian plough-girls......................... 114 +The entrance to the wood..................... 130 +The church inside............................ 156 +The library.................................. 168 +In the garden at Easter...................... 224 + +-------------------------------------------------------------------- +-------------------------------------------------------------------- + + +Elizabeth and her German Garden + + +May 7th.--I love my garden. I am writing in it now in +the late afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes +and the temptation to look at all the glories of the new +green leaves washed half an hour ago in a cold shower. +Two owls are perched near me, and are carrying on a long +conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of nightingales. +The gentleman owl says [[musical notes occur here in the printed +text]], and she answers from her tree a little way off, +[[musical notes]], beautifully assenting to and completing her +lord's remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. +They say the same thing over and over again so emphatically +that I think it must be something nasty about me; but I shall +not let myself be frightened away by the sarcasm of owls. + +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived +in the house, much less in the garden, for twenty-five years, +and it is such a pretty old place that the people who might have +lived <2> here and did not, deliberately preferring the horrors +of a flat in a town, must have belonged to that vast number of eyeless +and earless persons of whom the world seems chiefly composed. +Noseless too, though it does not sound pretty; but the greater +part of my spring happiness is due to the scent of the wet earth +and young leaves. + +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, +for indoors there are servants and furniture) but in quite +different ways, and my spring happiness bears no resemblance +to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more intense, +and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out +in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. +But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the decencies. + +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches +sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white +blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding. +I never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place. +Even across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east, +and right in the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one, +a picture of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky. +<3> + +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, +and beyond are great stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, +and where the forests leave off the bare heath begins again; +but the forests are beautiful in their lofty, pink-stemmed vastness, +far overhead the crowns of softest gray-green, and underfoot a bright +green wortleberry carpet, and everywhere the breathless silence; +and the bare heaths are beautiful too, for one can see across them +into eternity almost, and to go out on to them with one's face +towards the setting sun is like going into the very presence of God. + +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of birdcherries and greenery +where I spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray +stone house with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. +The house is very old, and has been added to at various times. +It was a convent before the Thirty Years' War, and the vaulted chapel, +with its brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, is now used as a hall. +Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more than once, +as is duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what was +then the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. +The Lion of the North was no doubt an estimable <4> person and acted wholly +up to his convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, +who were not without convictions of their own, sending them out on to +the wide, empty plain to piteously seek some life to replace the life +of silence here. + +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out +across the plain, with no obstacle in the shape of a hill, +right away to a blue line of distant forest, and on the west +side uninterruptedly to the setting sun--nothing but a green, +rolling plain, with a sharp edge against the sunset. +I love those west windows better than any others, and have +chosen my bedroom on that side of the house so that even times +of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the young woman +who attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties +about a mistress recumbent in an easychair before an open window, +and not to profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. +This girl is grieved at my habit of living almost in the garden, +and all her ideas as to the sort of life a respectable German lady +should lead have got into a sad muddle since she came to me. +The people round about are persuaded that I am, to put it +as kindly as possible, exceedingly eccentric, <5> for the news +has travelled that I spend the day out of doors with a book, +and that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew or cook. +But why cook when you can get some one to cook for you? +And as for sewing, the maids will hem the sheets better and +quicker than I could, and all forms of needlework of the fancy +order are inventions of the evil one for keeping the foolish +from applying their heart to wisdom. + +We had been married five years before it struck us that we +might as well make use of this place by coming down and living +in it. Those five years were spent in a flat in a town, +and during their whole interminable length I was perfectly +miserable and perfectly healthy, which disposes of the ugly +notion that has at times disturbed me that my happiness +here is less due to the garden than to a good digestion. +And while we were wasting our lives there, here was +this dear place with dandelions up to the very door, +all the paths grass-grown and completely effaced, in winter +so lonely, with nobody but the north wind taking the least +notice of it, and in May--in all those five lovely Mays-- +no one to look at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more +wonderful masses of lilacs, everything glowing and blowing, +the virginia creeper <6> madder every year, until at last, +in October, the very roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, +the owls and the squirrels and all the blessed little birds +reigning supreme, and not a living creature ever entering +the empty house except the snakes, which got into the habit during +those silent years of wriggling up the south wall into the rooms +on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the windows. +All that was here,--peace, and happiness, and a reasonable life,-- +and yet it never struck me to come and live in it. +Looking back I am astonished, and can in no way account for +the tardiness of my discovery that here, in this far-away corner, +was my kingdom of heaven. Indeed, so little did it enter +my head to even use the place in summer, that I submitted +to weeks of seaside life with all its horrors every year; +until at last, in the early spring of last year, having come +down for the opening of the village school, and wandering out +afterwards into the bare and desolate garden, I don't know what +smell of wet earth or rotting leaves brought back my childhood +with a rush and all the happy days I had spent in a garden. +Shall I ever forget that day? It was the beginning of my real life, +my coming of age as it were, and entering into my <7> kingdom. +Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, quiet earth; +leafless and sad and lonely enough out there in the damp +and silence, yet there I stood feeling the same rapture of pure +delight in the first breath of spring that I used to as a child, +and the five wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and the world +was full of hope, and I vowed myself then and there to nature, +and have been happy ever since. + +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought +perhaps that it might be as well to look after the place, +consented to live in it at any rate for a time; whereupon followed +six specially blissful weeks from the end of April into June, +during which I was here alone, supposed to be superintending +the painting and papering, but as a matter of fact only going +into the house when the workmen had gone out of it. + +How happy I was! I don't remember any time quite so perfect +since the days when I was too little to do lessons and was +turned out with sugar on my eleven o'clock bread and butter +on to a lawn closely strewn with dandelions and daisies. +The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its charm, +but I love the dandelions and daisies even more passionately +now than then, and never <8> would endure to see them all mown +away if I were not certain that in a day or two they would +be pushing up their little faces again as jauntily as ever. +During those six weeks I lived in a world of dandelions +and delights. The dandelions carpeted the three lawns,-- +they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed +out into meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,-- +and under and among the groups of leafless oaks and beeches were +blue hepaticas, white anemones, violets, and celandines in sheets. +The celandines in particular delighted me with their clean, +happy brightness, so beautifully trim and newly varnished, +as though they too had had the painters at work on them. +Then, when the anemones went, came a few stray periwinkles and +Solomon's Seal, and all the birdcherries blossomed in a burst. +And then, before I had a little got used to the joy of their +flowers against the sky, came the lilacs--masses and masses +of them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees +by the side of walks, and one great continuous bank of them +half a mile long right past the west front of the house, +away down as far as one could see, shining glorious against +a background of firs. When that time came, and when, +before it was over, the acacias all <9> blossomed too, +and four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies flowered +under the south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, +and thankful, and grateful, that I really cannot describe it. +My days seemed to melt away in a dream of pink and purple peace. + +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, +so that on the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge +what my other half calls my _fantaisie_ _dereglee_ as regards meals-- +that is to say, meals so simple that they could be brought out to +the lilacs on a tray; and I lived, I remember, on salad and bread +and tea the whole time, sometimes a very tiny pigeon appearing +at lunch to save me, as the old lady thought, from starvation. +Who but a woman could have stood salad for six weeks, even salad +sanctified by the presence and scent of the most gorgeous lilac masses? +I did, and grew in grace every day, though I have never liked it since. +How often now, oppressed by the necessity of assisting at three +dining-room meals daily, two of which are conducted by the functionaries +held indispensable to a proper maintenance of the family dignity, +and all of which are pervaded by joints of meat, how often do I +think of my <10> salad days, forty in number, and of the blessedness +of being alone as I was then alone! + +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house +was left to emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered +up her rheumatic limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another +part of the house had been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave +the friendly frogs and owls, and with my heart somewhere down in my shoes +lock the door to the garden behind me, and pass through the long series +of echoing south rooms full of shadows and ladders and ghostly pails +of painters' mess, and humming a tune to make myself believe I liked it, +go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the creaking stairs, +down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final rush of panic whisk +into my room and double lock and bolt the door! + +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great +dinner-bell to bed with me so that at least I might be able +to make a noise if frightened in the night, though what good it +would have been I don't know, as there was no one to hear. +The housemaid slept in another little cell opening out of mine, and we +two were the only <11> living creatures in the great empty west wing. +She evidently did not believe in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell +asleep immediately after getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, +"mais je les redoute," as a French lady said, who from her books +appears to have been strongminded. + +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it +comforted me to see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights +were anything but placid, it was all so strange, and there were such +queer creakings and other noises. I used to lie awake for hours, +startled out of a light sleep by the cracking of some board, +and listen to the indifferent snores of the girl in the next room. +In the morning, of course, I was as brave as a lion and much amused +at the cold perspirations of the night before; but even the nights +seem to me now to have been delightful, and myself like those historic +boys who heard a voice in every wind and snatched a fearful joy. +I would gladly shiver through them all over again for the sake of +the beautiful purity of the house, empty of servants and upholstery. + +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful +new papers! <12> Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and +build all sorts of castles in the air about their future and their past. +Would the nuns who had lived in them know their little white-washed +cells again, all gay with delicate flower papers and clean white paint? +And how astonished they would be to see cell No. 14 turned into a bathroom, +with a bath big enough to insure a cleanliness of body equal to their +purity of soul! They would look upon it as a snare of the tempter; +and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked at the blackness +of my nails the day that I began to lose the first whiteness of my soul +by falling in love at fifteen with the parish organist, or rather with +the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and fiery moustache which was all I +ever saw of him, and which I loved to distraction for at least six months; +at the end of which time, going out with my governess one day, +I passed him in the street, and discovered that his unofficial garb +was a frock-coat combined with a turn-down collar and a "bowler" hat, +and never loved him any more. + +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I +had not a thought of <13> anything but the peace and beauty all round me. +Then he appeared suddenly who has a right to appear when and how +he will and rebuked me for never having written, and when I told him +that I had been literally too happy to think of writing, he seemed +to take it as a reflection on himself that I could be happy alone. +I took him round the garden along the new paths I had had made, +and showed him the acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was +the purest selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring +were with me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. +I tried to appease him by offering him the whole of my salad and toast +supper which stood ready at the foot of the little verandah steps when we +came back, but nothing appeased that Man of Wrath, and he said he would +go straight back to the neglected family. So he went; and the remainder +of the precious time was disturbed by twinges of conscience (to which I +am much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump for joy. +I went to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me +to look at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; +I criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day <14> than I +had done in all the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; +but I could not manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your +conscience is clear and your liver in order and the sun is shining? + + +May 10th.--I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening +and this year know very little more, but I have dawnings +of what may be done, and have at least made one great stride-- +from ipomaea to tea-roses. + +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all +round the house, but the principal part is on the south +side and has evidently always been so. The south front +is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one into +the other, and the walls are covered with virginia creeper. +There is a little verandah in the middle, leading by a flight +of rickety wooden steps down into what seems to have been +the only spot in the whole place that was ever cared for. +This is a semicircle cut into the lawn and edged with privet, +and in this semicircle are eleven beds of different sizes +bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, and the sun-dial +is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by me. +These beds were the only <15> sign of any attempt at gardening +to be seen (except a solitary crocus that came up all by itself +each spring in the grass, not because it wanted to, but because +it could not help it), and these I had sown with ipomaea, +the whole eleven, having found a German gardening book, +according to which ipomaea in vast quantities was the one thing +needful to turn the most hideous desert into a paradise. +Nothing else in that book was recommended with anything like +the same warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity +of seed necessary, I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown +not only in the eleven beds but round nearly every tree, and then +waited in great agitation for the promised paradise to appear. +It did not, and I learned my first lesson. + +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweetpeas which made me +very happy all the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few +hollyhocks under the south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. +But the lilies, after being transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, +for how was I to know it was the way of lilies? And the hollyhocks turned +out to be rather ugly colours, so that my first summer was decorated +and beautified solely by sweet-peas. <16> + +At present we are only just beginning to breathe after the bustle +of getting new beds and borders and paths made in time for this summer. +The eleven beds round the sun-dial are filled with roses, +but I see already that I have made mistakes with some. +As I have not a living soul with whom to hold communion on this or +indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is by making mistakes. +All eleven were to have been carpeted with purple pansies, but finding +that I had not enough and that nobody had any to sell me, only six +have got their pansies, the others being sown with dwarf mignonette. +Two of the eleven are filled with Marie van Houtte roses, +two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette Messimy, +one with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, +two with Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind +the sun-dial with three sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), +Duke of Teck, Cheshunt Scarlet, and Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, +I am sure, a mistake, and several of the others are, I think, +but of course I must wait and see, being such an ignorant person. +Then I have had two long beds made in the grass on either side +of the semicircle, each sown with mignonette, and one <17> filled +with Marie van Houtte, and the other with Jules Finger and the Bride; +and in a warm corner under the drawing-room windows is a bed +of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and Comtesse Riza du Parc; +while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north and west +by a group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, +containing Rubens, Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hen. Edith Gifford. +All these roses are dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, +two Madame George Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. +How I long for the day when the tea-roses open their buds! +Never did I look forward so intensely to anything; and every day I +go the rounds, admiring what the dear little things have achieved +in the twentyfour hours in the way of new leaf or increase of +lovely red shoot. + +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south +windows in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot +of which I have sown two long borders of sweetpeas facing the rose beds, +so that my roses may have something almost as sweet as themselves to look +at until the autumn, when everything is to make place for more tea-roses. +The path leading <18> away from this semicircle down the garden is bordered +with China roses, white and pink, with here and there a Persian Yellow. +I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I have misgivings as to the effect +of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, for the Chinas are such wee +little baby things, and the Persian Yellows look as though they intended +to be big bushes. + +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could +in the least understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward +to the flowering of these roses, and not a German gardening book +that does not relegate all tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning +them for life, and depriving them for ever of the breath of God. +It was no doubt because I was so ignorant that I rushed in where Teutonic +angels fear to tread and made my tea-roses face a northern winter; +but they did face it under fir branches and leaves, and not one +has suffered, and they are looking to-day as happy and as determined +to enjoy themselves as any roses, I am sure, in Europe. + +May 14th.--To-day I am writing on the verandah with the +three babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, +and already several <19> of the thirty fingers have been in +the ink-pot and the owners consoled when duty pointed to rebukes. +But who can rebuke such penitent and drooping sunbonnets? +I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores and nimble black legs. + +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, +and the gardener's assistant, are the only people who ever +go into my garden, but then neither are we ever out of it. +The gardener has been here a year and has given me notice +regularly on the first of every month, but up to now has +been induced to stay on. On the first of this month he came +as usual, and with determination written on every feature told +me he intended to go in June, and that nothing should alter +his decision. I don't think he knows much about gardening, +but he can at least dig and water, and some of the things +he sows come up, and some of the plants he plants grow, +besides which he is the most unflaggingly industrious person +I ever saw, and has the great merit of never appearing +to take the faintest interest in what we do in the garden. +So I have tried to keep him on, not knowing what the next one +may be like, and when I asked him what he had to complain +of and he replied "Nothing," I <20> could only conclude +that he has a personal objection to me because of my eccentric +preference for plants in groups rather than plants in lines. +Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts from gardening books I +read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing something new. +Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead of explaining, +to take the book itself out to him and let him have wisdom +at its very source, administering it in doses while he worked. +I quite recognise that this must be annoying, and only my anxiety +not to lose a whole year through some stupid mistake has given +me the courage to do it. I laugh sometimes behind the book +at his disgusted face, and wish we could be photographed, +so that I may be reminded in twenty years' time, when the garden +is a bower of loveliness and I learned in all its ways, +of my first happy struggles and failures. + +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the autumn +into their permanent places, and all through April he went about with a +long piece of string making parallel lines down the borders of beautiful +exactitude and arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a review. +Two long borders were done during my absence <21> one day, and when I +explained that I should like the third to have plants in groups and not +in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural effect with no bare spaces +of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily hopeless than usual; +and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he had planted +two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little lines +of five plants in a row--first five pinks, and next to them five rockets, +and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five rockets, +and so on with different plants of every sort and size down to the end. +When I protested, he said he had only carried out my orders and had +known it would not look well; so I gave in, and the remaining borders +were done after the pattern of the first two, and I will have patience +and see how they look this summer, before digging them up again; +for it becomes beginners to be humble. + +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, +besides being so fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where +you want them and put in your plants exactly as you choose instead +of giving orders that can only be half understood from the moment +you depart from the lines laid down by that long piece of string! +In the first <22> ecstasy of having a garden all my own, and in my +burning impatience to make the waste places blossom like a rose, +I did one warm Sunday in last year's April during the servants' +dinner hour, doubly secure from the gardener by the day and the dinner, +slink out with a spade and a rake and feverishly dig a little +piece of ground and break it up and sow surreptitious ipomaea, +and run back very hot and guilty into the house, and get into a chair +and behind a book and look languid just in time to save my reputation. +And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one hot; but it +is a blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in Paradise +and known what to do with it, we should not have had all that sad +business of the apple. + +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, +babies, birds, and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! +Yet my town acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment, and burying, +and I don't know what besides, and would rend the air with their shrieks +if condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest +above all my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily. +I believe I should always be good if the sun always shone, +and could enjoy myself very <23> well in Siberia on a fine day. +And what can life in town offer in the way of pleasure to equal +the delight of any one of the calm evenings I have had this month +sitting alone at the foot of the verandah steps, with the perfume +of young larches all about, and the May moon hanging low over +the beeches, and the beautiful silence made only more profound +in its peace by the croaking of distant frogs and hooting of owls? +A cockchafer darting by close to my ear with a loud hum sends a shiver +through me, partly of pleasure at the reminder of past summers, +and partly of fear lest he should get caught in my hair. +The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be killed. +I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer +and not crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning +of all the fun. + +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. +My eldest baby, born in April, is five years old, and the youngest, +born in June, is three; so that the discerning will at once +be able to guess the age of the remaining middle or May baby. +While I was stooping over a group of hollyhocks planted on the top +of the only thing in the shape of a hill the garden possesses, +the April baby, who <24> had been sitting pensive on a tree stump +close by, got up suddenly and began to run aimlessly about, +shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. +I stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw +that a whole army of young cows, pasturing in a field next +to the garden, had got through the hedge and were grazing +perilously near my tea-roses and most precious belongings. +The nurse and I managed to chase them away, but not before +they had trampled down a border of pinks and lilies in the +cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed of China roses, +and even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am trying +to persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener +happened to be ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers-- +as Lutheran Germany calls afternoon tea or its equivalent-- +so the nurse filled up the holes as well as she could with mould, +burying the crushed and mangled roses, cheated for ever of their +hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking on dejectedly. +The June baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond +her size and years, seized a stick much bigger than herself +and went after the cows, the cowherd being nowhere to be seen. +She planted herself in front of them <25> brandishing her stick, +and they stood in a row and stared at her in great astonishment; +and she kept them off until one of the men from the farm +arrived with a whip, and having found the cowherd sleeping +peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. +The cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger +than the man who beat him, but he took his punishment +as part of the day's work and made no remark of any sort. +It could not have hurt him much through his leather breeches, +and I think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work +for a strong young man with no brains looking after cows. +Nobody with less imagination than a poet ought to take it up +as a profession. + +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two +with as many hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, +and while we were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I happened +to look up into its mazy green, and there, on a branch quite close to my head, +sat a little baby owl. I got on the seat and caught it easily, for it +could not fly, and how it had reached the branch at all is a mystery. +It is a little round ball of gray fluff, with the quaintest, +wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I <26> ought to have let it go, +but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present +on a journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often +said how much he would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. +So I put it into a roomy cage and slung it up on a branch near where it +had been sitting, and which cannot be far from its nest and its mother. +We had hardly subsided again to our tea when I saw two more balls +of fluff on the ground in the long grass and scarcely distinguishable +at a little distance from small mole-hills. These were promptly united +to their relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath comes home, +not only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox smiles, +but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take them +from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some day-- +perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. +I put a small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have +tasted water yet unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. +I suppose they get all the liquid they need from the bodies of +the mice and other dainties provided for them by their fond parents. +But the raindrop idea is prettier.<27> + + +May 15th.--How cruel it was of me to put those poor little +owls into a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, +and shall never pander to the Man of Wrath's wishes again. +This morning I got up early to see how they were getting on, +and I found the door of the cage wide open and no owls to be seen. +I thought of course that somebody had stolen them-- +some boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. +But looking about I saw one perched high up in the branches of +the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead on the ground. +The third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its nest. +The parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance +they got the door open, and then dragged the little ones out +and up into the tree. The one that is dead must have been blown +off the branch, as it was a windy night and its neck is broken. +There is one happy life less in the garden to-day through +my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm day--just the sort +of weather for young soft things to enjoy and grow in. +The babies are greatly distressed, and are digging a grave, +and preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. + +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of <28> arrival, +and running out I breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been +able to give him the owls he has so often said he would like to have, +and how sorry I was they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, +and so on after the voluble manner of women. + +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, "I am +surprised at such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? +She had never done you any harm." + +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced +than ever that he sang true who sang-- + + Two paradises 'twere in one to live in Paradise alone. + + +May 16th.--The garden is the place I go to for refuge +and shelter, not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, +servants to exhort and admonish, furniture, and meals; +but out there blessings crowd round me at every step-- +it is there that I am sorry for the unkindness in me, +for those selfish thoughts that are so much worse than they feel; +it is there that all my sins and silliness are forgiven, +there that I feel protected and at home, and every flower +and weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been +<29> vexed I run out to them for comfort, and when I have been +angry without just cause, it is there that I find absolution. +Did ever a woman have so many friends? And always the same, +always ready to welcome me and fill me with cheerful thoughts. +Happy children of a common Father, why should I, their own sister, +be less content and joyous than they? Even in a thunder storm, +when other people are running into the house, I run out of it. +I do not like thunder storms--they frighten me for hours +before they come, because I always feel them on the way; +but it is odd that I should go for shelter to the garden. +I feel better there, more taken care of, more petted. +When it thunders, the April baby says, "There's lieber Gott scolding +those angels again." And once, when there was a storm in the night, +she complained loudly, and wanted to know why lieber Gott didn't +do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so tight asleep. +They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and English, +adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting +in English words in the middle of a German sentence. +It always reminds me of Justice tempered by Mercy. +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by +the name of the Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground +of innumerable deer who fight there in the autumn evenings, +calling each other out to combat with bayings that ring through +the silence and send agreeable shivers through the lonely listener. +I often walk there in September, late in the evening, and sitting +on a fallen tree listen fascinated to their angry cries. + +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had +never seen such things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. +The Hirschwald is a little open wood of silver birches and springy +turf starred with flowers, and there is a tiny stream meandering +amiably about it and decking itself in June with yellow flags. +I have dreams of having a little cottage built there, +with the daisies up to the door, and no path of any sort-- +just big enough to hold myself and one baby inside and a purple +clematis outside. Two rooms--a bedroom and a kitchen. +How scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! +I know the exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, +so that we should get all the cheerfulness of the morning, +and close to the stream, so that we might wash our plates <31> +among the flags. Sometimes, when in the mood for society, +we would invite the remaining babies to tea and entertain them +with wild strawberries on plates of horse-chestnut leaves; +but no one less innocent and easily pleased than a baby would +be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny cottage-- +indeed, I don't suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. +Wise people want so many things before they can even begin to +enjoy themselves, and I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, +for only being able to offer them that which I love best myself-- +apologetic, and ashamed of being so easily contented. + +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town +(it took us the whole afternoon to get there) the women after +dinner were curious to know how I had endured the winter, +cut off from everybody and snowed up sometimes for weeks. + +"Ah, these husbands!" sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking +her head; "they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don't +care what their sufferings are." + +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady +was a great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful +<32> husband had brought his young wife into the country and had kept +her there, concealing her beauty and accomplishments from the public +in a most cruel manner, and how, after spending a certain number of years +in alternately weeping and producing progeny, she had quite lately run +away with somebody unspeakable--I think it was the footman, or the baker, +or some one of that sort. + +"But I am quite happy," I began, as soon as I could put +in a word. + +"Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it," +and the female potentate patted my hand, but continued gloomily +to shake her head. + +"You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone," +asserted another lady, the wife of a high military authority and not +accustomed to be contradicted. + +"But I am." + +"But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible." + +"But I _am_." + +"Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter." + +"But I don't want to be brought to town." + +"And not let you waste your best years buried." <33> + +"But I like being buried." + +"Such solitude is not right." + +"But I'm not solitary." + +"And can come to no good." She was getting quite angry. + +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, +and renewed shaking of heads. + +"I enjoyed the winter immensely," I persisted when they +were a little quieter; "I sleighed and skated, and then +there were the children, and shelves and shelves full of--" +I was going to say books, but stopped. Reading is an occupation +for men; for women it is reprehensible waste of time. +And how could I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the sun +shone on the snow, or of the deep delight of hear-frost days? + +"It is entirely my doing that we have come down here," +I proceeded, "and my husband only did it to please me." + +"Such a good little wife," repeated the patronising potentate, +again patting my hand with an air of understanding all about it, +"really an excellent little wife. But you must not let your husband +have his own way too much, my dear, and take my advice and insist +on his bringing you to town next winter." <34> + +And then they fell to talking about their cooks, having settled to their +entire satisfaction that my fate was probably lying in wait for me too, +lurking perhaps at that very moment behind the apparently harmless brass +buttons of the man in the hall with my cloak. + +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction +when we reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the pretty +old house; and when I went into the library, with its four windows open +to the moonlight and the scent, and looked round at the familiar bookshelves, +and could hear no sounds but sounds of peace, and knew that here I might read +or dream or idle exactly as I chose with never a creature to disturb me, +how grateful I felt to the kindly Fate that has brought me here and given me +a heart to understand my own blessedness, and rescued me from a life like +that I had just seen--a life spent with the odours of other people's dinners +in one's nostrils, and the noise of their wrangling servants in one's ears, +and parties and tattle for all amusement. + +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed +when some grand person, examining the details of my home +through her eyeglass, <35> and coolly dissecting all that I +so much prize from the convenient distance of the open window, +has finished up by expressing sympathy with my loneliness, and on +my protesting that I like it, has murmured, "sebr anspruchslos." +Then indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness of my wants; +but only for a moment, and only under the withering influence +of the eyeglass; for, after all, the owner's spirit is the same +spirit as that which dwells in my servants--girls whose one idea +of happiness is to live in a town where there are others of their +sort with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. +The passion for being for ever with one's fellows, and the fear of +being left for a few hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. +I can entertain myself quite well for weeks together, hardly aware, +except for the pervading peace, that I have been alone at all. +Not but what I like to have people staying with me for a few days, +or even for a few weeks, should they be as anspruchslos as I am myself, +and content with simple joys; only, any one who comes here and would +be happy must have something in him; if he be a mere blank creature, +empty of head and heart, he will very probably find it dull. +I should like my house to be often <36> full if I could find people +capable of enjoying themselves. They should be welcomed and sped +with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to confess that, +though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just as much +to see them go. + +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually +longed for some one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. +There has been rain in the night, and the whole garden seems to +be singing--not the untiring birds only, but the vigorous plants, +the happy grass and trees, the lilac bushes--oh, those lilac bushes! +They are all out to-day, and the garden is drenched with the scent. +I have brought in armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every +pot and bowl and tub in the house is filled with purple glory, +and the servants think there is going to be a party and are extra nimble, +and I go from room to room gazing at the sweetness, and the windows +are all flung open so as to join the scent within to the scent without; +and the servants gradually discover that there is no party, +and wonder why the house should be filled with flowers for one woman +by herself, and I long more and more <37> for a kindred spirit-- +it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself--but kindred +spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as well cry for the moon. +It is true that my garden is full of friends, only they are--dumb. + + +June 3rd.--This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that it +requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus delivered +from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, or people +who love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to be deterred +from coming by the roundabout train journey and the long drive at the end. +Not the least of my many blessings is that we have only one neighbour. +If you have to have neighbours at all, it is at least a mercy that there +should be only one; for with people dropping in at all hours and wanting +to talk to you, how are you to get on with your life, I should like to know, +and read your books, and dream your dreams to your satisfaction? +Besides, there is always the certainty that either you or the dropper-in +will say something that would have been better left unsaid, and I have +a holy horror of gossip and mischief-making. A woman's <38> tongue is a +deadly weapon and the most difficult thing in the world to keep in order, +and things slip off it with a facility nothing short of appalling at +the very moment when it ought to be most quiet. In such cases the only +safe course is to talk steadily about cooks and children, and to pray +that the visit may not be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. +Cooks I have found to be the best of all subjects--the most phlegmatic +flush into life at the mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected +with them are experiences common to us all. + +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, +with a whole troop of flaxenhaired little children to keep +them occupied, besides the business of their large estate. +Our intercourse is arranged on lines of the most +beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, and she +returns the call a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner +in the summer, and we ask them to dinner in the winter. +By strictly keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that closer +friendship which is only another name for frequent quarrels. +She is a pattern of what a German country lady should be, +and is not only a pretty woman but an energetic and practical one, +and the combination is, <39> to say the least, effective. +She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the stock, +the butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; +a thousand things get done while most people are fast asleep, +and before lazy folk are well at breakfast she is off in her +pony-carriage to the other farms on the place, to rate the "mamsells," +as the head women are called, to poke into every corner, +lift the lids off the saucepans, count the new-laid eggs, +and box, if necessary, any careless dairymaid's ears. +We are allowed by law to administer "slight corporal punishment" +to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste to decide +what "slight" shall be, and my neighbour really seems to enjoy +using this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. +I would give much to be able to peep through a keyhole and see +the dauntless little lady, terrible in her wrath and dignity, +standing on tiptoe to box the ears of some great strapping +girl big enough to eat her. + +The making of cheese and butter and sausages +_excellently_ well is a work which requires brains, +and is, to my thinking, a very admirable form of activity, +and entirely worthy of the attention of the intelligent. +That my neighbour is intelligent is <40> at once made evident +by the bright alertness of her eyes--eyes that nothing escapes, +and that only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose. +She is a recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries +of sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; +and with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences +from home, her children are patterns of health and neatness, +and of what dear little German children, with white pigtails +and fearless eyes and thick legs, should be. Who shall say +that such a life is sordid and dull and unworthy of a high order +of intelligence? I protest that to me it is a beautiful life, +full of wholesome outdoor work, and with no room for those +listless moments of depression and boredom, and of wondering +what you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a pretty +woman's eyes, and are not unknown even to the most brilliant. +But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try +to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic +and organising variety, but rather of that order which makes +their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry +and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on +a willow trunk beside a little <41> stream, forget the very +existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, +and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields. +And it would make me perfectly wretched to be confronted +by ears so refractory as to require boxing. + +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it +is on these occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each +individual is, and how far away from his neighbour; and while they talk +(generally about babies, past, present, and to come), I fall to +wondering at the vast and impassable distance that separates one's +own soul from the soul of the person sitting in the next chair. +I am speaking of comparative strangers, people who are forced +to stay a certain time by the eccentricities of trains, +and in whose presence you grope about after common interests +and shrink back into your shell on finding that you have none. +Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute more +benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in the air +and look vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of +wondering who they most take after, generally settling the question +by saying that the May baby, who is the beauty, is like her father, +and that the two more or less plain ones are the <42> image of me, +and this decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is coming, +never fails to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first time. +The babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it +is hard that they should be used as a means of filling up gaps +in conversation, and their features pulled to pieces one by one, +and all their weak points noted and criticised, while they stand +smiling shyly in the operator's face, their very smile drawing forth +comments on the shape of their mouths; but, after all, it does not +occur very often, and they are one of those few interests one has +in common with other people, as everybody seems to have babies. +A garden, I have discovered, is by no means a fruitful topic, and it +is amazing how few persons really love theirs--they all pretend they do, +but you can hear by the very tone of their voice what a lukewarm +affection it is. About June their interest is at its warmest, +nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses; +but on reflection I don't know a single person within twenty miles +who really cares for his garden, or has discovered the treasures +of happiness that are buried in it, and are to be found if sought +for diligently, and if needs be with tears. <43> + +It is after these rare calls that I experience the only +moments of depression from which I ever suffer, and then I am angry +at myself, a well-nourished person, for allowing even a single +precious hour of life to be spoil: by anything so indifferent. +That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed enough, +and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably desire-- +on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy +by such abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach +to your neighbour's soul; which is on the face of it foolish, +the probability being that he hasn't got one. + +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, +put them right along the very front of two borders, and I don't +know what his feelings can be now that they are all flowering +and the plants behind are completely hidden; but I have learned +another lesson, and no future gardener shall be allowed +to run riot among my rockets in quite so reckless a fashion. +They are charming things, as delicate in colour as in scent, +and a bowl of them on my writing-table fills the room with fragrance. +Single rows, however, are a mistake; I had masses of them +planted in the grass, and these show how lovely they can be. +<44> A border full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, +must be beautiful; but I don't know how long they last +nor what they look like when they have done flowering. +This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. Was ever +a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? +No doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I +were not forced to learn solely by my failures, and if I +had some kind creature to tell me when to do things. +At present the only flowers in the garden are the rockets, +the pansies in the rose beds, and two groups of azaleas-- +mollis and pontica. The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous; +I only planted them this spring and they almost at once +began to flower, and the sheltered corner they are in looks +as though it were filled with imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. +Orange, lemon, pink in every delicate shade--what they +will be next year and in succeeding years when the bushes +are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. +On gray, dull days the effect is absolutely startling. +Next autumn I shall make a great bank of them in front of a belt +of fir trees in rather a gloomy nook. My tea-roses are covered +with buds which will not open for at least another week, +so I conclude this is not the sort of climate where they +will flower from the very beginning of June to November, +as they are said to do. + +July 11th.--There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday, +five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad +soon after Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took +to going about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, +explaining that he felt safer that way, and we bore it quite patiently, +as becomes civilised beings who respect each other's prejudices, +until one day, when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper-- +and after he bought the revolver my tones in addressing him +were of the mildest, and I quite left off reading to him aloud-- +he turned round, looked me straight in the face for the first time +since he has been here, and said, "Do I look like Graf X- --(a great +local celebrity), or like a monkey?" After which there was nothing +for it but to get him into an asylum as expeditiously as possible. +There was no gardener to be had in his place, and I have only +just succeeded in getting one; so that what with the drought, +and the <46> neglect, and the gardener's madness, and my blunders, +the garden is in a sad condition; but even in a sad condition it +is the dearest place in the world, and all my mistakes only make +me more determined to persevere. + +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. +The rockets have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets: +in other walks of life, have degenerated into sticks; +and nothing else in those borders intends to bloom this summer. +The giant poppies I had planted out in them in April have either +died off or remained quite small, and so have the columbines; +here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly, and that is all. +I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved, or perhaps they were not +watered enough at the time of transplanting; anyhow, those borders +are going to be sown to-morrow with more poppies for next year; +for poppies I will have, whether they like it or not, and they +shall not be touched, only thinned out. + +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I +come out and sit under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, +and see the sunshine on the cornfields away on the plain, +all the disappointment smooths itself out, and it seems +impossible <47> to be sad and discontented when everything +about me is so radiant and kind. + +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in +this shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across +the grass, and listening to the rooks quarrelling in the treetops, I almost +expect to hear English church bells ringing for the afternoon service. +But the church is three miles off, has no bells, and no afternoon service. +Once a fortnight we go to morning prayer at eleven and sit up in a sort +of private box with a room behind, whither we can retire unobserved when +the sermon is too long or our flesh too weak, and hear ourselves being +prayed for by the blackrobed parson. In winter the church is bitterly cold; +it is not heated, and we sit muffled up in more furs than ever we wear out +of doors ; but it would of course be very wicked for the parson to wear furs, +however cold he may be, so he puts on a great many extra coats under +his gown, and, as the winter progresses, swells to a prodigious size. +We know when spring is coming by the reduction in his figure. +The congregation sit at ease while the parson does the praying +for them, and while they are droning the long-drawn-out chorales, +he retires into a little wooden box just big enough to <48> hold him. +He does not come out until he thinks we have sung enough, nor do we stop +until his appearance gives us the signal. I have often thought how dreadful +it would be if he fell ill in his box and left us to go on singing. +I am sure we should never dare to stop, unauthorised by the Church. +I asked him once what he did in there; he looked very shocked at such +a profane question, and made an evasive reply. + +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a +terrible day; but in the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief +and more profound peace, nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; +only the little flowers themselves and the whispering trees. + +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors-- +not stray callers to be got rid of after a due administration +of tea and things you are sorry afterwards that you said, +but people staying in the house and not to be got rid of at all. +All June was lost to me in this way, and it was from first +to last a radiant month of heat and beauty; but a garden +where you meet the people you saw at breakfast, and will see +again at lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy in. +Besides, they had a knack of finding out my favourite <49> +seats and lounging in them just when I longed to lounge myself; +and they took books out of the library with them, and left them face +downwards on the seats all night to get well drenched with dew, +though they might have known that what is meat for roses is +poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they +had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished +long ago--whereas I don't believe a garden ever is finished. +They have all gone now, thank heaven, except one, so that I +have a little breathing space before others begin to arrive. +It seems that the place interests people, and that there +is a sort of novelty in staying in such a deserted corner of +the world, for they were in a perpetual state of mild amusement +at being here at all. Irais is the only one left. +She is a young woman with a beautiful, refined face, and her +eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly lovable. +At meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites +a bit off, and repeats the process, although providence +(taking my shape) has caused salt-spoons to be placed at +convenient intervals down the table. She lunched to-day on beer, +Schweine-koteletten, and cabbage-salad with caraway <50> +seeds in it, and now I hear her through the open window, +extemporising touching melodies in her charming, cooing voice. +She is thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on the above diet. +What better proof can be needed to establish the superiority +of the Teuton than the fact that after such meals he can produce +such music? Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, but I don't +doubt its utility as a means of encouraging thoughtfulness; +nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so poetically, +any more than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, +and I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. +She is the sweetest singer I have ever heard, and has +a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along. +When she begins, I go and lean out of the window and look +at my little friends out there in the borders while listening +to her music, and feel full of pleasant sadness and regret. +It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to be sad about. + +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, +the others hurrying along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed +for my admiration three brand-new kittens, lean and blind, +that she was carrying in her pinafore, and that <51> had just been +found motherless in the woodshed. + +"Look," she cried breathlessly, "such a much!" + +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once +before this afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself +down on the grass at my feet, to ask about the lieber Gott, it being +Sunday and her pious little nurse's conversation having run, as it seems, +on heaven and angels. + +Her questions about the lieber Gott are better left unrecorded, +and I was relieved when she began about the angels. + +"What do they wear for clothes?" she asked in her German-English. + +"Why, you've seen them in pictures," I answered, +"in beautiful, long dresses, and with big, white wings." +"Feathers?" she asked. + +"I suppose so,--and long dresses, all white and beautiful." + +"Are they girlies?" + +"Girls? Ye--es." + +"Don't boys go into the Himmel?" + +"Yes, of course, if they're good." + +"And then what do _they_ wear?" <52> + +"Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose." + +"Dwesses?" + +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me +of making jokes. "What a funny Mummy!" she said, evidently much amused. +She has a fat little laugh that is very infectious. + +"I think," said I, gravely, "you had better go and play +with the other babies." + +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. +I began writing again. + +"Mummy," she said presently. + +"Well?" + +"Where do the angels get their dwesses?" + +I hesitated. "From lieber Gott," I said. + +"Are there shops in the Himmel?" + +"Shops? No." + +"But, then, where does lieber Gott buy their dwesses?" + +"Now run away like a good baby; I'm busy." + +"But you said yesterday, when I asked about lieber Gott, +that you would tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. +Tell me a story about Him." + +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I <53> put +down my pencil with a sigh. "Call the others, then." + +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes +one after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. +The April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, +and the other two had to sit on the grass. + +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. +The April baby's eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder +and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in the story-- +the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly listening. +I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and announced +that that was all, when she burst out, "Now I'll tell about it. +Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had plenty of clothes, +and there was no snake, and lieber Gott wasn't angry with them, +and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy for ever +and ever--there now!" + +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. + +"But that's not the story," I said rather helplessly. <54> + +"Yes, yes! It's a much nicelier one! Now another." + +"But these stories are true," I said severely; "and it's no use +my telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards." + +"Another! another!" she shrieked, jumping up and down +with redoubled energy, all her silvery curls flying. + +I began about Noah and the flood. + +"Did it rain so badly?" she asked with a face of the deepest +concern and interest. + +"Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks-- --" + +"And was everybody so wet?" + +"Yes--" + +"But why didn't they open their umbwellas?" + +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. + +"I'll tell you the rest another time," I said, putting her off my knee, +greatly relieved; "you must all go to Anna now and have tea." + +"I don't like Anna," remarked the June baby, not having +hitherto opened her lips; "she is a stupid girl." + +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, +for, besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times +anxious not to hurt any one's feelings, they had been brought up +to love and respect their kind little nurse. + +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting +her finger, pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. +"Such a child will never go into the Himmel," she said with +great emphasis, and the air of one who delivers judgment. + + +September 15th.--This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, +and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; +of tea under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; +of wood-fires in the library in the chilly evenings. The babies go +out in the afternoon and blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, +grown big and fat, sit cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; +the Man of Wrath shoots partridges across the distant stubble; +and the summer seems as though it would dream on for ever. +It is hard to believe that in three months we shall probably +be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling about +this month that reminds me of March and the early days of April, +when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden +holds its breath in expectation. There is <56> the same mildness +in the air, and the sky and grass have the same look as then; +but the leaves tell a different tale, and the reddening creeper +on the house is rapidly approaching its last and loveliest glory. + +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, +and the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been +most beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, +each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at +the base to a yellow-white. I have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses +for planting next month, half of which are Viscountess Folkestones, +because the tea-roses have such a way of hanging their little heads +that one has to kneel down to be able to see them well in the dwarf forms-- +not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such perfect beauty, +only it dirties one's clothes. So I am going to put standards down each +side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the flowers on +a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they will stand the +winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so difficult to pack up snugly. +The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have been, as I predicted, a mistake +among <57> the tea-roses; they only flower twice in the season and all +the rest of the time look dull and moping; and then the Persian Yellows +have such an odd smell and so many insects inside them eating them up. +I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to put in their place, as they all come +out next month and are to be grouped in the grass; and the semicircle +being immediately under the windows, besides having the best position +in the place, must be reserved solely for my choicest treasures. +I have had a great many disappointments, but feel as though I were really +beginning to learn. Humility, and the most patient perseverance, +seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and sunshine, and every +failure must be used as a stepping-stone to something better. + +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal +about gardening and has had much practical experience. +When I heard he was coming, I felt I wanted to put my arms right +round my garden and hide it from him; but what was my surprise +and delight when he said, after having gone all over it, "Well, I +think you have done wonders." Dear me, how pleased I was! +It was so entirely unexpected, and such a complete novelty +after the remarks I have been listening <58> to all the summer. +I could have hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, +able to look beyond the result to the intention, and appreciating +the difficulties of every kind that had been in the way. +After that I opened my heart to him, and listened reverently to all +he had to say, and treasured up his kind and encouraging advice, +and wished he could stay here a whole year and help me through +the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, +and he was the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. + +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able +to come to me, while I can at any time fill the house with +visitors about whom I know little and care less. Perhaps, if I +saw more of those absent ones, I would not love them so well-- +at least, that is what I think on wet days when the wind is +howling round the house and all nature is overcome with grief; +and it has actually happened once or twice when great friends +have been staying with me that I have wished, when they left, +I might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose +the fact is, that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, +and here, in the country, we invariably <59> think it our duty +to appear at breakfast. Civilisation has done away with curl-papers, +yet at that hour the soul of the Hausfrau is as tightly screwed +up in them as was ever her grandmother's hair; and though +my body comes down mechanically, having been trained that way +by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of beginning to wake up +for other people till lunch-time, and never does so completely +till it has been taken out of doors and aired in the sunshine. +Who can begin conventional amiability the first thing in the morning? +It is the hour of savage instincts and natural tendencies; +it is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. +I am convinced that the Muses and the Graces never thought +of having breakfast anywhere but in bed. + + +November 11th.--When the gray November weather came, +and hung its soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown +of the ploughed fields and the vivid emerald of the stretches of +winter corn, the heavy stillness weighed my heart down to a forlorn +yearning after the pleasant things of childhood, the petting, +the comforting, the warming faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. +A great need of something to lean on, and <60> a great weariness +of independence and responsibility took possession of my soul; +and looking round for support and comfort in that transitory mood, +the emptiness of the present and the blankness of the future sent +me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I not go +and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; +the place where I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, +so close to heaven, so near to hell, always either up on a cloud of glory, +or down in the depths with the waters of despair closing over my head? +Cousins live in it now, distant cousins, loved with the exact measure +of love usually bestowed on cousins who reign in one's stead; +cousins of practical views, who have dug up the flower-beds and +planted cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the years +since my father's death I have held my head so high that it hurt, +and loftily refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I +should revisit my old home, something in the sad listlessness of +the November days sent my spirit back to old times with a persistency +that would not be set aside, and I woke from my musings surprised +to find myself sick with longing. <61> + +It is foolish but natural to quarrel with one's cousins, +and especially foolish and natural when they have done nothing, +and are mere victims of chance. Is it their fault that my not being a boy +placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into at their disposal? +I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me love them more. +"Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!" cried my father, on my arrival into the world-- +he had three of them already, and I was his last hope,--and a dummes +Frauenzimmer I have remained ever since; and that is why for years I +would have no dealings with the cousins in possession, and that is why, +the other day, overcome by the tender influence of the weather, +the purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood +was enough to send all my pride to the winds, and to start me off without +warning and without invitation on my pilgrimage. + +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had +lived in the Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on +the way to Rome. The pilgrims, leaving all their cares at home, +the anxieties of their riches or their debts, the wife that +worried and the children that disturbed, took only their sins +with them, and turning <62> their backs on their obligations, +set out with that sole burden, and perhaps a cheerful heart. +How cheerful my heart would have been, starting on a fine morning, +with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious +blessings of my family, with every step getting farther from +the suffocation of daily duties, out into the wide fresh world, +out into the glorious free world, so poor, so penitent, +and so happy! My dream, even now, is to walk for weeks +with some friend that I love, leisurely wandering from place +to place, with no route arranged and no object in view, +with liberty to go on all day or to linger all day, as we choose; +but the question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, +is one of the rocks on which my plans have been shipwrecked, +and the other is the certain censure of relatives, who, not fond +of walking themselves, and having no taste for noonday naps +under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my plans before they +had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry, +"How very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!" +The relative of five hundred years back would simply have said, +"How holy!" <63> + + +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages--indeed, it is evident +that I have it from him--and he encouraged it in me when I was little, +taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a boy. +Often have we been together to the school he was at in Brandenburg, and spent +pleasant days wandering about the old town on the edge of one of those lakes +that lie in a chain in that wide green plain; and often have we been +in Potsdam, where he was quartered as a lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage +including hours in the woods around and in the gardens of Sans Souci, +with the second volume of Carlyle's Frederick under my father's arm; +and often did we spend long summer days at the house in the Mark, at the head +of the same blue chain of lakes, where his mother spent her young years, +and where, though it belonged to cousins, like everything else that was +worth having, we could wander about as we chose, for it was empty, +and sit in the deep windows of rooms where there was no furniture, +and the painted Venuses and cupids on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly +and stretched their futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. +And while we sat and rested, my father told me, as <64> my grandmother +had a hundred times told him, all that had happened in those rooms +in the far-off days when people danced and sang and laughed through life, +and nobody seemed ever to be old or sorry. + +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone's throw of +the great iron gates, with two very old lime trees in front of it, +where we used to lunch on our arrival at a little table spread +with a red and blue check cloth, the lime blossoms dropping into +our soup, and the bees humming in the scented shadows overhead. +I have a picture of the house by my side as I write, done from +the lake in old times, with a boat full of ladies in hoops +and powder in the foreground, and a youth playing a guitar. +The pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the best. + +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories +to tell a little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, +or hung over the stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, +or picked the pale dog-roses in the hedges, or lay in the boat +in a shady reed-grown bay while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off, +were after all only traditions, imparted to me in small doses +from time to time, when his earnest desire not to raise his <65> +remarks above the level of dulness supposed to be wholesome +for Backfische was neutralised by an impulse to share his thoughts +with somebody who would laugh; whereas the place I was bound for on +my latest pilgrimage was filled with living, first-hand memories +of all the enchanted years that lie between two and eighteen. +How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me +the older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since; +and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months ago, +every incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years +is perfectly distinct in my memory. + +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether +cousinly in my behaviour towards the people in possession. +The invitations to revisit the old home had ceased. +The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and had left me alone. +I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so long +since I had had any news. For two days I fought against +the strong desire to go there that had suddenly seized me, +and assured myself that I would not go, that it would +be absurd to go, undignified, sentimental, and silly, +that I did not know them and would be in an awkward position, +<66> and that I was old enough to know better. But who can +foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? +And when does she ever know better? On the third morning I +set out as hopefully as though it were the most natural thing +in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto consistently +neglected cousins, and expect to be received with open arms. + +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. +During the first part, when it was still dark, I glowed +with enthusiasm, with the spirit of adventure, with delight +at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved place again; +and thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to pass +since last I was there. Of what I should say to the cousins, +and of how I should introduce myself into their midst, +I did not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon me, +the unpractical spirit that takes no thought for anything, +but simply wanders along enjoying its own emotions. +It was a quiet, sad morning, and there was a thick mist. +By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got +over my first enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically +examining the changes that had been <67> made in the last ten years. +It was so misty that I could see nothing of the familiar country +from the carriage windows, only the ghosts of pines in the front +row of the forests; but the railway itself was a new departure, +unknown in our day, when we used to drive over ten miles of deep, +sandy forest roads to and from the station, and although most +people would have called it an evident and great improvement, +it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal and energy +of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he should +require more conveniences than my father had found needful? +It was no use my telling myself that in my father's time the era +of light railways had not dawned, and that if it had, we should +have done our utmost to secure one; the thought of my cousin, +stepping into my shoes, and then altering them, was odious to me. +By the time I was walking up the hill from the station I +had got over this feeling too, and had entered a third stage +of wondering uneasily what in the world I should do next. +Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started? +At the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question +in detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. +Where, indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? +It had vanished so completely that I could only suppose that it +must be lunch time, the observations of years having led to the +discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly affrighted +on the approach of lunch, and none fly quicker than courage. +So I ate the lunch I had brought with me, hoping that it was +what I wanted; but it was chilly, made up of sandwiches and pears, +and it had to be eaten under a tree at the edge of a field; +and it was November, and the mist was thicker than ever and very wet-- +the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, +I was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. +Nobody's spirits can keep up under such conditions; +and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, I deplored the headlong +courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm, +dry home where I was appreciated, and had brought me first +to the damp tree in the damp field, and when I had finished +my lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to drag me into +the midst of a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. +Vast sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off. +The sheep dog kept up a perpetual, irritating yap. +In the fog I could <69> hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. +After the fashion of woman directly she is not perfectly warm +and perfectly comfortable, I began to consider the uncertainty +of human life, and to shake my head in gloomy approval as +lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves +to my mind. + +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want +to do anything, to do it in the way consecrated by custom, +more especially if you are a woman. The rattle of a carriage +along the road just behind me, and the fact that I started +and turned suddenly hot, drove this truth home to my soul. +The mist hid me, and the carriage, no doubt full of cousins, +drove on in the direction of the house; but what an absurd +position I was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, +and revealed me lunching in the wet on their property, the cousin +of the short and lofty letters, the unangenehme Elisabeth! +"Die war doch immer verdreht," I could imagine them hastily muttering +to each other, before advancing wreathed in welcoming smiles. +It gave me a great shock, this narrow escape, and I got +on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch +under the gigantic molehill <70> on which I had been sitting, +asked myself nervously what I proposed to do next. +Should I walk back to the village, go to the Gasthof, write a letter +craving permission to call on my cousins, and wait there till +an answer came? It would be a discreet and sober course to pursue; +the next best thing to having written before leaving home. +But the Gasthof of a north German village is a dreadful place, +and the remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge +once from a thunderstorm was still so vivid that nature +itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if anything, +was growing denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. +What if I gave up all hope of seeing the house, +and went through the little door in the wall at the bottom +of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? +In such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, +without the least risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, +and it was after all the garden that lay nearest my heart. +What a delight it would be to creep into it unobserved, +and revisit all the corners I so well remembered, +and slip out again and get away safely without any need +of explanations, assurances, protestations, displays of affection, +without any need, in <71> a word, of that exhausting form +of conversation, so dear to relations, known as Redensarten! +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine +day I would have gone soberly to the Gasthof and written +the conciliatory letter; but the temptation was too great, +it was altogether irresistible, and in ten minutes I had found +the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and was standing +with a beating heart in the garden of my childhood. + +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of +the same potency as those that ran through me at that moment. +First of all I was trespassing, which is in itself thrilling; +but how much more thrilling when you are trespassing on what +might just as well have been your own ground, on what actually +was for years your own ground, and when you are in deadly +peril of seeing the rightful owners, whom you have never met, +but with whom you have quarrelled, appear round the corner, +and of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness "I +do not think I have the pleasure--?" Then the place was unchanged. +I was standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths +that had always been just there; they curled away on <72> either +side among the shrubs, with the brown tracks of recent footsteps +in the centre of their green stains, just as they did in my day. +The overgrown lilac bushes still met above my head. +The moisture dripped from the same ledge in the wall on +to the sodden leaves beneath, as it had done all through +the afternoons of all those past Novembers. This was the place, +this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to me. +Nobody ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, +and in summer so full of mosquitoes that only a Backfisch +indifferent to spots could have borne it. But it was a place +where I could play unobserved, and where I could walk up +and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the air. +There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, +much frequented by the larger black slug, where I used +to pass glorious afternoons making plans. I was for ever +making plans, and if nothing came of them, what did it matter? +The mere making had been a joy. To me this out-of-the-way +corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious place, +where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant rows, +and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; +for the hours I passed <73> in it and the people I met in it +were all enchanted. + +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, +I forgot the existence of the cousins. I could have cried +for joy at being there again. It was the home of my fathers, +the home that would have been mine if I had been a boy, +the home that was mine now by a thousand tender and happy +and miserable associations, of which the people in possession +could not dream. They were tenants, but it was my home. +I threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, +every branch of which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, +and fallen from it, and torn and bruised myself on it uncountable +numbers of times? and I gave it such a hearty kiss that my nose +and chin were smudged into one green stain, and still I did not care. +Far from caring, it filled me with a reckless, Backfisch pleasure +in being dirty, a delicious feeling that I had not had for years. +Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the contents of +the magic bottle, could not have grown smaller more suddenly +than I grew younger the moment I passed through that magic door. +Bad habits cling to us, however, with such persistency that I +did mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub +off the welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed +of doing in the glorious old days; but an artful scent of +violets clinging to the handkerchief brought me to my senses, +and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for scent +of every honest Backfisch, I rolled it up into a ball and flung +it away into the bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment. +"Away with you," I cried, "away with you, symbol of conventionality, +of slavery, of pandering to a desire to please--away with you, +miserable little lace-edged rag!" And so young had I grown +within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. + +As a Backfisch I had never used handkerchiefs-- +the child of nature scorns to blow its nose--though for +decency's sake my governess insisted on giving me a clean +one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. +It was stowed away unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, +where it was gradually pressed into a beautiful compactness +by the other contents, which were knives. After a while, +I remember, the handkerchief being brought to light on +Sundays to make room for a successor, and being manifestly +perfectly clean, we came to an agreement that it should only +be changed <75> on the first and third Sundays in the month, +on condition that I promised to turn it on the other Sundays. +My governess said that the outer folds became soiled +from the mere contact with the other things in my pocket, +and that visitors might catch sight of the soiled side if it +was never turned when I wished to blow my nose in their presence, +and that one had no right to give one's visitors shocks. +"But I never do wish-- --" I began with great earnestness. +"Unsinn," said my governess, cutting me short. + +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, +the profound stillness of the dripping little shrubbery +frightened me. It was so still that I was afraid to move; +so still, that I could count each drop of moisture falling from +the oozing wall; so still, that when I held my breath to listen, +I was deafened by my own heart-beats. I made a step forward +in the direction where the arbour ought to be, and the rustling +and jingling of my clothes terrified me into immobility. The house +was only two hundred yards off; and if any one had been about, +the noise I had already made opening the creaking door and so +foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. +Suppose an inquiring gardener, or a <76> restless cousin, +should presently loom through the fog, bearing down upon me? +Suppose Fraulein Wundermacher should pounce upon me suddenly +from behind, coming up noiselessly in her galoshes, +and shatter my castles with her customary triumphant "Fetzt +halte ich dich aber fest!" Why, what was I thinking of? +Fraulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such an enemy +of day-dreams, such a friend of das Praktische, such a lover +of creature comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded +long ago by others, German sometimes, and sometimes English, +and sometimes at intervals French, and they too had all +in their turn vanished, and I was here a solitary ghost. +"Come, Elizabeth," said I to myself impatiently, "are you actually +growing sentimental over your governesses? If you think you +are a ghost, be glad at least that you are a solitary one. +Would you like the ghosts of all those poor women you +tormented to rise up now in this gloomy place against you? +And do you intend to stand here till you are caught?" +And thus exhorting myself to action, and recognising how great +was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down the little path +leading to the arbour and the principal part of the garden, +going, it is <77> true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened +by the rustling of my petticoats, but determined to see what I +had come to see and not to be scared away by phantoms. + +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the +petticoats of my youth, so short, so silent, and so woollen! +And how convenient the canvas shoes were with the india rubber soles, +for creeping about without making a sound! Thanks to them I +could always run swiftly and unheard into my hiding-places, +and stay there listening to the garden resounding with cries +of "Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come in at once to your lessons!" +Or, at a different period, "Ou etes-vous donc, petite sotte?" +Or at yet another period, "Warte nur, wenn ich dich erst habe!" +As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fraulein Wundermacher, +a person of resource, who discovered that all she needed for my +successful circumvention was galoshes. She purchased a pair, +wasted no breath calling me, and would come up silently, +as I stood lapped in a false security lost in the contemplation +of a squirrel or a robin, and seize me by the shoulders +from <78> behind, to the grievous unhinging of my nerves. +Stealing along in the fog, I looked back uneasily once +or twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could +hardly be reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate +twists and curls that compose what my maid calls my Frisur, +and that mark the gulf lying between the present and the past; +for it had happened once or twice, awful to relate and to remember, +that Fraulein Wundermacher, sooner than let me slip through +her fingers, had actually caught me by the long plait of hair +to whose other end I was attached and whose English name +I had been told was pigtail, just at the instant when I +was springing away from her into the bushes; and so had led +me home triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, +and muttering with a broad smile of special satisfaction, +"Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht entschlupfen!" +Fraulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must have been +a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. +But I wished at that moment that she would not haunt me +so persistently, and that I could get rid of the feeling that +she was just behind in her galoshes, with her hand stretched +out to seize me. <79> + +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started +back with my heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather's +stern eyes shining in the darkness. It was evident that my anxiety +lest the cousins should catch me had quite upset my nerves, +for I am not by nature inclined to see eyes where eyes are not. +"Don't be foolish, Elizabeth," murmured my soul in rather +a faint voice, "go in, and make sure." "But I don't like going +in and making sure," I replied. I did go in, however, with a +sufficient show of courage, and fortunately the eyes vanished. +What I should have done if they had not I am altogether unable to imagine. +Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime and fear at night, +but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The arbour had +fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of mouldiness. +My grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, +it enjoyed a period of prosperity before being left to the ravages +of slugs and children, when he came down every afternoon in summer +and drank his coffee there and read his Kreuzzeitung and dozed, +while the rest of us went about on tiptoe, and only the birds dared sing. +Even the mosquitoes that infested <80> the place were too much in awe +of him to sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I naturally +concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my memory +skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was exclusively his. +Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I felt how well I +knew him now from the impressions he made then on my child's mind, +though I was not conscious of them for more than twenty years. +Nobody told me about him, and he died when I was six, and yet within +the last year or two, that strange Indian summer of remembrance +that comes to us in the leisured times when the children have been +born and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. +It is rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially +for the parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though +children may not understand what is said and done before them, +and have no interest in it at the time, and though they may forget +it at once and for years, yet these things that they have seen +and heard and not noticed have after all impressed themselves +for ever on their minds, <81> and when they are men and women come +crowding back with surprising and often painful distinctness, +and away frisk all the cherished little illusions in flocks. + +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. +He never petted, and he often frowned, and such people are +generally reverenced. Besides, he was a just man, everybody said; +a just man who might have been a great man if he had chosen, +and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory. +That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof +of his greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in +the vulgar sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy +and potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still +did nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. +People must believe in somebody, and having pinned their +faith on my grandfather in the promising years that lie +round thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there. +He pervaded our family life till my sixth year, and saw to it +that we all behaved ourselves, and then he died, and we +were glad that he should be in heaven. He was a good German +(and when Germans are good they are very good) who kept +the commandments, voted for the Government, grew prize potatoes +and bred innumerable sheep, drove to Berlin once a year with +the wool in a procession of waggons behind him and sold it +at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a few days there, +and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as often +as possible, helped his friends, punished his children, +read his Bible, said his prayers, and was genuinely astonished +when his wife had the affectation to die of a broken heart. +I cannot pretend to explain this conduct. She ought, of course, +to have been happy in the possession of so good a man; +but good men are sometimes oppressive, and to have one +in the house with you and to live in the daily glare of his +goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him +seven sons and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother +died in the way described, and afforded, said my grandfather, +another and a very curious proof of the impossibility of ever +being sure of your ground with women. The incident faded +more quickly from his mind than it might otherwise have done +for its having occurred simultaneously with the production +of a new kind of potato, of which he was justly proud. +He called it Trost in Trauer, and quoted the text of Scripture +Auge um Auge, Zabn <83> um Zahn, after which he did not +again allude to his wife's decease. In his last years, +when my father managed the estate, and he only lived with us +and criticised, he came to have the reputation of an oracle. +The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of +any important phase in their lives, and he received them +in this very arbour, administering eloquent and minute +advice in the deep voice that rolled round the shrubbery +and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as I played. +Sitting among the bushes playing muffled games for fear +of disturbing him, I supposed he must be reading aloud, +so unbroken was the monotony of that majestic roll. +The young men used to come out again bathed in perspiration, +much stung by mosquitoes, and looking bewildered; and when they had +got over the impression made by my grandfather's speech and presence, +no doubt forgot all he had said with wholesome quickness, +and set themselves to the interesting and necessary work of gaining +their own experience. Once, indeed, a dreadful thing happened, +whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end to the long +and close friendship between us and our nearest neighbour. +His son was brought to the arbour and left there in the usual way, +and either he <84> must have happened on the critical +half hour after the coffee and before the Kreuzzeitung, +when my grandfather was accustomed to sleep, or he was more +courageous than the others and tried to talk, for very shortly, +playing as usual near at hand, I heard my grandfather's voice, +raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and quake, saying +with deliberate anger, "Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des Satans!" +Which was all the advice this particular young man got, +and which he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, +and though his face was very pale, there was an odd twist +about the corners of his mouth that reassured me. + +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather's life, +for almost immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he +need have done because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with him, +in the face of his doctor's warning that if he did he would surely die. +"What! am I to be conquered by crabs?" he demanded indignantly of the doctor; +for apart from loving them with all his heart he had never yet been conquered +by anything." Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal--do not, I pray you, +try it again," replied the doctor. But my grandfather ordered crabs that +very night for supper, and went in to table with the shining eyes of one +who is determined to conquer or die, and the crabs conquered, and he died. +"He was a just man," said the neighbours, except that nearest neighbour, +formerly his best friend, "and might have been a great one had he so chosen." +And they buried him with profound respect, and the sunshine came into our +home life with a burst, and the birds were not the only creatures that sang, +and the arbour, from having been a temple of Delphic utterances, sank into +a home for slugs. + +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable +ultimate triumph of the insignificant and small over the important +and vast, illustrated in this instance by the easy substitution +in the arbour of slugs for grandfathers, I went slowly round +the next bend of the path, and came to the broad walk along +the south side of the high wall dividing the flower garden +from the kitchen garden, in which sheltered position my father +had had his choicest flowers. Here the cousins had been at work, +and all the climbing roses that clothed the wall with beauty +were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed +up at proper <86> intervals, reigned in their stead. +Evidently the cousins knew the value of this warm aspect, +for in the border beneath, filled in my father's time in this +month of November with the wallflowers that were to perfume +the walk in spring, there was a thick crop of--I stooped down close +to make sure--yes, a thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled +with tears at the sight of those radishes, and it is probably +the only occasion on record on which radishes have made anybody cry. +My dear father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn +passionately loved this particular border, and spent the spare +moments of a busy life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. +He had no time himself for a more near acquaintance with the +delights of gardening than directing what plants were to be used, +but found rest from his daily work strolling up and down here, +or sitting smoking as close to the flowers as possible. +"It is the Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest +Refreshment to the Spirits of Man," he would quote +(for he read other things besides the Kreuzzeitung), looking +round with satisfaction on reaching this fragrant haven after +a hot day in the fields. Well, the cousins did not think so. +Less fanciful, and more sensible as they probably would <87> +have said, their position plainly was that you cannot eat flowers. +Their spirits required no refreshment, but their bodies needed much, +and therefore radishes were more precious than wallflowers. +Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they were +grown in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners +and old cucumber frames, and would never have been allowed +to come among the flowers. And only because I was not a boy +here they were profaning the ground that used to be so beautiful. +Oh, it was a terrible misfortune not to have been a boy! +And how sad and lonely it was, after all, in this ghostly garden. +The radish bed and what it symbolised had turned my first joy +into grief. This walk and border me too much of my father reminded, +and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he had taught me, +and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once during +all the years we lived together had we been of different opinions +and fallen out, and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. +I was four years old, and demanded one Sunday to be taken +to church. My father said no, for I had never been to church, +and the German service is long and exhausting. I implored. +He again said no. I <88> implored again, and showed such a +pious disposition, and so earnest a determination to behave well, +that he gave in, and we went off very happily hand in hand. +"Now mind, Elizabeth," he said, turning to me at the church door, +"there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted +on being brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end." +"Oh, yes, oh, yes," I promised eagerly, and went in filled +with holy fire. The shortness of my legs, hanging helplessly +for two hours midway between the seat and the floor, +was the weapon chosen by Satan for my destruction. +In German churches you do not kneel, and seldom stand, but sit +nearly the whole time, praying and singing in great comfort. +If you are four years old, however, this unchanged position +soon becomes one of torture. Unknown and dreadful things +go on in your legs, strange prickings and tinglings and +dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying numbness, when you +think they must have dropped off but are afraid to look, +then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. +I thought I must be very ill, for I had never known my legs +like that before. My father sitting beside me was engrossed +in the singing of a chorale that evidently had no end, +<89> each verse finished with a long-drawn-out hallelujah, +after which the organ played by itself for a hundred years-- +by the organist's watch, which was wrong, two minutes exactly-- +and then another verse began. My father, being the patron of +the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon +with exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little +church was on our pew, and at first I tried to imitate him; +but the behaviour of my legs became so alarming that after vainly +casting imploring glances at him and seeing that he continued +his singing unmoved, I put out my hand and pulled his sleeve. + +"Hal-le-lu-jah," sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low +voice without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly moving, +and his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the organist, +who was also the postman, should have finished his solo, "Did I not +tell thee to sit still, Elizabeth?" "Yes, but-- --" "Then do it." +"But I want to go home." + +"Unsinn." And the next verse beginning, my father +sang louder than ever. What could I do? Should I cry? +I began to be afraid I was going <90> to die on that chair,so +extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. What could my +father do to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of small +children I felt that he could not put me in the corner in church, +nor would he whip me in public, and that with the whole village +looking on, he was helpless, and would have to give in. +Therefore I tugged his sleeve again and more peremptorily, +and prepared to demand my immediate removal in a loud voice. +But my father was ready for me. Without interrupting his singing, +or altering his devout expression, he put his hand slowly down +and gave me a hard pinch--not a playful pinch, but a good hard +unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, +and then went on serenely to the next hallelujah. +For a moment I was petrified with astonishment. +Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, adorer, and friend? +Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a nicely stretched, +tight skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I opened my mouth +to shriek in earnest, when my father's clear whisper fell on my ear, +each word distinct and not to be misunderstood, his eyes as before +gazing meditatively into space, and his lips hardly moving, +"Elizabeth, wenn <91> du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du platzt." +And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum-- + +"Will Satan mich verschlingen, +So lass die Engel singen + Hallelujah!" + +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been +my willing slave, and after that I was his. + +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories +to the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner +of which my own little garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood +still a moment before going through, to hold my breath and listen. +The silence was as profound as before. The place seemed deserted; +and I should have thought the house empty and shut up but for the carefully +tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green of the path. +They were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine +a specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow +sitting on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in my +life jumped, and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my nerves +<92> were all to pieces, for I gathered up my skirts and fled through +the door as though a whole army of ghosts and cousins were at my heels, +nor did I stop till I had reached the remote corner where my garden was. +"Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?" asked the mocking sprite that calls +itself my soul: but I was too much out of breath to answer. + +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated +from the main garden and the house by the wall, and shut in on +the north side by an orchard, and it was to the last degree +unlikely that any one would come there on such an afternoon. +This plot of ground, turned now as I saw into a rockery, +had been the scene of my most untiring labours. Into the cold +earth of this north border on which the sun never shone I had +dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been spent +on it, and as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, +in a fatal hour I had borrowed from Fraulein Wundermacher, +selling her my independence, passing utterly into her power, +forced as a result till my next birthday should come round +to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner in her company, +against which my very soul revolted. And after <93> all, +nothing came up. The labour of digging and watering, +the anxious zeal with which I pounced on weeds, the poring +over gardening books, the plans made as I sat on the little +seat in the middle gazing admiringly and with the eye of faith +on the trim surface so soon to be gemmed with a thousand flowers, +the reckless expenditure of pfennings, the humiliation of my +position in regard to Fraulein Wundermacher,--all, all had +been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. +The gardener who reigned supreme in those days had given +me this big piece for that sole reason, because he could +do nothing with it himself. He was no doubt of opinion +that it was quite good enough for a child to experiment upon, +and went his way, when I had thanked him with a profuseness +of gratitude I still remember, with an unmoved countenance. +For more than a year I worked and waited, and watched the career +of the flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled feelings. +The orchard was only a few yards away, and yet, although my +garden was full of manure, and water, and attentions that were +never bestowed on the orchard, all it could show and ever +did show were a few unhappy beginnings of growth that <94> +either remained stationary and did not achieve flowers, +or dwindled down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked +the gardener if he could explain these signs and wonders, +but he was a busy man with no time for answering questions, +and told me shortly that gardening was not learned in a day. +How well I remember that afternoon, and the very shape of +the lazy clouds, and the smell of spring things, and myself +going away abashed and sitting on the shaky bench in my domain +and wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made +the difference between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. +The fruit trees, far enough away from the wall to be beyond +the reach of its cold shade, were tossing their flower-laden heads +in the sunshine in a carelessly well-satisfied fashion that filled +my heart with envy. There was a rise in the field behind them, +and at the foot of its protecting slope they luxuriated +in the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. +It was May, and my heart bled at the thought of the tulips +I had put in in November, and that I had never seen since. +The whole of the rest of the garden was on fire with tulips; +behind me, on the other side of the wall, were rows and rows +of them,--<95> cups of translucent loveliness, a jewelled +ring flung right round the lawn. But what was there not on +the other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew +and flowered exactly as my gardening books said they should do; +and in front of me, in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever +troubled about or cultivated or noticed throve joyously beneath +the trees,--daffodils thrusting their spears through the grass, +crocuses peeping out inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their +small cold faces when the first shivering spring days came. +Only my piece that I so loved was perpetually ugly and empty. +And I sat in it thinking of these things on that radiant day, +and wept aloud. + +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me +busily digging, and noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps +by the difference between my garden and the profusion of splendour +all around, paused with his barrow on the path in front of me, +and remarked that nobody could expect to get blood out of a stone. +The apparent irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, +the bitter tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, +and harangued me from the path, explaining the connection <96> +between north walls and tulips and blood and stones till my tears all +dried up again and I listened attentively, for the conclusion to be +drawn from his remarks was plainly that I had been shamefully taken +in by the head gardener, who was an unprincipled person thenceforward +to be for ever mistrusted and shunned. Standing on the path from +which the kindly apprentice had expounded his proverb, this scene +rose before me as clearly as though it had taken place that very day; +but how different everything looked, and how it had shrunk! +Was this the wide orchard that had seemed to stretch away, +it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of heaven? +I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a certain +time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up +my mind that on that Day the heavenly host would enter the world +by that very field, coming down the slope in shining ranks, +treading the daffodils under foot, filling the orchard with their songs +of exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from among the goats. +Of course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head gardener goats, +so that the results could not fail to be in every way satisfactory. +But looking up at the slope <97> and remembering my visions, +I laughed at the smallness of the field I had supposed would +hold all heaven. + +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my +garden was occupied by a rockery, and the orchard grass with all +its treasures had been dug up, and the spaces between the trees +planted with currant bushes and celery in admirable rows; +so that no future little cousins will be able to dream of celestial +hosts coming towards them across the fields of daffodils, +and will perhaps be the better for being free from visions +of the kind, for as I grew older, uncomfortable doubts laid +hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim uncertainties as to +the exact ultimate position of the gardener and the governess, +anxious questionings as to how it would be if it were they +who turned out after all to be sheep, and I who--? For that we +all three might be gathered into the same fold at the last never, +in those days, struck me as possible, and if it had I should +not have liked it. + +"Now what sort of person can that be," I asked myself, +shaking my head, as I contemplated the changes before me, +"who could put <98> a rockery among vegetables and currant bushes? +A rockery, of all things in the gardening world, +needs consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier to make +mistakes in forming a rockery than in any other garden scheme. +Either it is a great success, or it is great failure; either it +is very charming, or it is very absurd. There is no state +between the sublime and the ridiculous possible in a rockery." +I stood shaking my head disapprovingly at the rockery before me, +lost in these reflections, when a sudden quick pattering of feet +coming along in a great hurry made me turn round with a start, +just in time to receive the shock of a body tumbling out +of the mist and knocking violently against me. + +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. + +"Hullo!" said the little girl in excellent English; +and then we stared at each other in astonishment. + +"I thought you were Miss Robinson," said the little girl, +offering no apology for having nearly knocked me down. +"Who are you?" + +"Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?" I repeated, my eyes fixed on +the little girl's face, and a host of memories stirring within me. +"Why, didn't she <99> marry a missionary, and go out to some place +where they ate him?" + +The little girl stared harder. "Ate him? Marry? What, has she been +married all this time to somebody who's been eaten and never let on? +Oh, I say, what a game!" And she threw back her head and laughed till +the garden rang again. + +"O hush, you dreadful little girl!" I implored, catching her +by the arm, and terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. +"Don't make that horrid noise--we are certain to be caught if you +don't stop-- --" + +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut +her mouth with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot buttons, +came still further out of her head. "Caught?" she said eagerly. +"What, are you afraid of being caught too? Well, this is a game!" +And with her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat she capered +in front of me in the excess of her enjoyment, reminding me of a very fat +black lamb frisking round the dazed and passive sheep its mother. + +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to +the gate at the end of the garden as <100> quickly as possible, +and I began to move away in that direction. The little girl at once +stopped capering and planted herself squarely in front of me. +"Who are you?" she said, examining me from my hat to my boots +with the keenest interest. + +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, +and, trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. + +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, +was there before me. + +"Who are you?" she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. +" Oh, I--I'm a pilgrim," I said in desperation. + +"A pilgrim!" echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, +and while she was struck I slipped past her and began +to walk quickly towards the door in the wall. "A pilgrim!" +said the little girl, again, keeping close beside me, +and looking me up and down attentively. "I don't like pilgrims. +Aren't they people who are always walking about, and have things +the matter with their feet? Have you got anything the matter +with your feet?" + +"Certainly not," I replied indignantly, walking still faster. <101> + +"And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don't either, do you?" + +"Not wash? Oh, I'm afraid you are a very badly brought-up +little girl--oh, leave me alone--I must run--" + +"So must I," said the little girl, cheerfully, "for Miss Robinson +must be close behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you." +And she started running by my side. + +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings +to my feet, and, casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was +but little left, to the winds, I fairly flew down the path. +The little girl was not to be outrun, and though she panted +and turned weird colours, kept by my side and even talked. +Oh, I was tired, tired in body and mind, tired by the different shocks +I had received, tired by the journey, tired by the want of food; +and here I was being forced to run because this very naughty +little girl chose to hide instead of going in to her lessons. + +"I say--this is jolly--" she jerked out. + +"But why need we run to the same place?" I breathlessly asked, +in the vain hope of getting rid of her. <102> + +"Oh, yes--that's just--the fun. We'd get on--together--you and I--" + +"No, no," said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. + +"I can't stand washing--either--it's awful--in winter-- +and makes one have--chaps." + +"But I don't mind it in the least," I protested faintly, +not having any energy left. + +"Oh, I say!" said the little girl, looking at my face, +and making the sound known as a guffaw. The familiarity +of this little girl was wholly revolting. + +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past +the radishes, and were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience +how easy it was to hide in the tangle of little paths, and stopped +a moment to look round and listen. The little girl opened her +mouth to speak. With great presence of mind I instantly put my +muff in front of it and held it there tight, while I listened. +Dead silence, except for the laboured breathing and struggles +of the little girl. + +"I don't hear a sound," I whispered, letting her go again. +"Now what did you want to say?" I added, eyeing her severely. + +"I wanted to say," she panted, "that it's no <103> good pretending you +wash with a nose like that." + +"A nose like that! A nose like what?" I exclaimed, +greatly offended; and though I put up my hand and very tenderly +and carefully felt it, I could find no difference in it. +"I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must have a wretched life," +I said, in tones of deep disgust. + +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying +her compliments. "It's all green and brown," she said, pointing. +"Is it always like that?" + +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, +and the enraptured kiss it had received, and blushed. + +"Won't it come off?" persisted the little girl. + +"Of course it will come off," I answered, frowning. + +"Why don't you rub it off? " + +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, +and blushed again. + +"Please lend me your handkerchief," I said humbly, +"I--I have lost mine." + +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then +a handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was produced. +<104> I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, +intensely interested, watching the operation and giving me advice. +"There--it's all right now--a little more on the right--there-- +now it's all off." + +"Are you sure? No green left?" I anxiously asked. + +"No, it's red all over now," she replied cheerfully. +"Let me get home," thought I, very much upset by this information, +"let me get home to my dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept +my nose as an example of what a nose should be, and whatever +its colour think it beautiful." And thrusting the handkerchief +back into the little girl's hands, I hurried away down the path. +She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds for it was +of the size of a small sheet, and then came running after me. +"Where are you going?" she asked surprised, as I turned down the path +leading to the gate. + +"Through this gate," I replied with decision. + +"But you mustn't--we're not allowed to go through there-- --" + +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at +the words not allowed my hand <105> dropped of itself from the latch; +and at that instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist +struck me rigid. + +"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" called the voice, "Come in at once +to your lessons--Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" + +"It's Miss Robinson," whispered the little girl, +twinkling with excitement; then, catching sight of my face, +she said once more with eager insistence, "Who are you?" + +"Oh, I'm a ghost!" I cried with conviction, pressing my hands +to my forehead and looking round fearfully. + +"Pooh," said the little girl. + +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking +of approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I +pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, +and fled out and away down the wide, misty fields. + +The Gotha Almanach says that the reigning cousin married +the daughter of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, +and that in 1886 their only child was born, Elizabeth. <106> + +November 20th.--Last night we had ten degrees of frost +(Fahrenheit), and I went out the first thing this morning to see +what had become of the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake +and quite cheerful--covered with rime it is true, but anything +but black and shrivelled. Even those in boxes on each side +of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and full of buds, +and one in particular, a Bouquet d'Or, is a mass of buds, +and would flower if it could get the least encouragement. +I am beginning to think that the tenderness of tea-roses +is much exaggerated, and am certainly very glad I +had the courage to try them in this northern garden. +But I must not fly too boldly in the face of Providence, +and have ordered those in the boxes to be taken into the greenhouse +for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d'Or, in a sunny place +near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. +The greenhouse is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature +just above freezing, and is reserved entirely for such plants +as cannot stand the very coldest part of the winter out of doors. +I don't use it for growing anything, because I don't love things +that will only bear the garden for three or four months in the year +and require <107> coaxing and petting for the rest of it. +Give me a garden full of strong, healthy creatures, able to stand +roughness and cold without dismally giving in and dying. +I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely +flowers to be had by heat and constant coaxing, but then +for each of these there are fifty others still lovelier that +will gratefully grow in God's wholesome air and are blessed +in return with a far greater intensity of scent and colour. + +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds +into order and planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward +to next summer with more hope than ever in spite of my many failures. +I wish the years would pass quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! +The Persian Yellows have gone into their new quarters, and their place is +occupied by the tearose Safrano; all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies +sown in July and transplanted in October, each bed having a separate colour. +The purple ones are the most charming and go well with every rose, +but I have white ones with Laurette Messimy, and yellow ones +with Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed of red roses. +<108> Round the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge +two rows of annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, +and just beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard +tea and pillar roses. + +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked +with larkspurs, annual and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, +pinks, Madonna lilies, wallflowers, hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, +peonies, lavender, starworts, cornflowers, Lychnis chalcedonica, +and bulbs packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are the borders +that were so hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes +for the verandah steps have been filled with pink and white and +yellow tulips. I love tulips better than any other spring flower; +they are the embodiment of alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, +and next to a hyacinth look like a wholesome, freshly tubbed young +girl beside a stout lady whose every movement weighs down the air +with patchouli. Their faint, delicate scent is refinement itself; +and is there anything in the world more charming than the sprightly +way they hold up their little faces to the sun. I have heard them +called bold and flaunting, but to me they seem modest grace itself, +only always on the alert to enjoy life as <109> much as they can and not +afraid of looking the sun or anything else above them in the face. +On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted with forget-me-nots; +and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils and narcissus. +Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins will (I hope) +shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of firs, +is graced by Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. + +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak +tree that stands alone in the sun--groups of crocuses, daffodils, +narcissus, hyacinths, and tulips, among such flowering shrubs +and trees as Pirus Malus spectabilis, floribunda, and coronaria; +Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, serotina, triloba, and Pissardi; +Cydonias and Weigelias in every colour, and several kinds +of Crataegus and other May lovelinesses. If the weather behaves +itself nicely, and we get gentle rains in due season, I think +this little corner will be beautiful--but what a big "if" it is! +Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers each +contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all +the ditches dried up and the soil was like hot pastry. +At such times the watering is naturally quite beyond the strength +of two men; but as a garden is a <110> place to be happy in, +and not one where you want to meet a dozen curious eyes at +every turn, I should not like to have more than these two, +or rather one and a half--the assistant having stork-like +proclivities and going home in the autumn to his native Russia, +returning in the spring with the first warm winds. +I want to keep him over the winter, as there is much to be done +even then, and I sounded him on the point the other day. +He is the most abject-looking of human beings--lame, and afflicted +with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good worker and plods +along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. + +"Pray, my good stork," said I, or German words to that effect, +"why don't you stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting +away all you have earned?" + +"I would stay," he answered," but I have my wife there in Russia." + +"Your wife!" I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed +creature should have found a mate--as though there were not a superfluity +of mates in the world--"I didn't know you were married?" + +"Yes, and I have two little children, and I <111> +don't know what they would do if I were not to come home. +But it is a very expensive journey to Russia, and costs me +every time seven marks." + +"Seven marks!" + +"Yes, it is a great sum." + +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, +supposing I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. + +All the labourers who work here from March to December +are Russians and Poles, or a mixture of both. We send a man +over who can speak their language, to fetch as many as he can +early in the year, and they arrive with their bundles, +men and women and babies, and as soon as they have got +here and had their fares paid, they disappear in the night +if they get the chance, sometimes fifty of them at a time, +to go and work singly or in couples for the peasants, +who pay them a pfenning or two more a day than we do, +and let them eat with the family. From us they get a mark +and a half to two marks a day, and as many potatoes as they +can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, +but because they are women and must not be encouraged. +The overseer lives with them, and has a loaded revolver in his +pocket and a savage dog at his heels. <112> + +For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters +and other permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses +they are put into. I suppose they find it sleepy work; +for certain it is that spring after spring the same thing happens, +fifty of them getting away in spite of all our precautions, +and we are left with our mouths open and much out of pocket. +This spring, by some mistake, they arrived without their bundles, +which had gone astray on the road, and, as they travel in their +best clothes, they refused utterly to work until their luggage came. +Nearly a week was lost waiting, to the despair of all in authority. + +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints' +days, and there surely never was a church so full of them as the +Russian Church. In the spring, when every hour is of vital importance, +the work is constantly being interrupted by them, and the workers +lie sleeping in the sun the whole day, agreeably conscious that they +are pleasing themselves and the Church at one and the same time-- +a state of perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided +by Faith is of course exasperated at this waste of precious time, +and I confess that during the first mild days <113> after the long +winter frost when it is possible to begin to work the ground, +I have sympathised with the gloom of the Man of Wrath, confronted in +one week by two or three empty days on which no man will labour, +and have listened in silence to his remarks about distant Russian saints. + +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation +that made me pity these people when first I came to live among them. +They herd together like animals and do the work of animals; +but in spite of the armed overseer, the dirt and the rags, +the meals of potatoes washed down by weak vinegar and water, +I am beginning to believe that they would strongly object +to soap, I am sure they would not wear new clothes, and I +hear them coming home from their work at dusk singing. +They are like little children or animals in their utter inability +to grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day +in God's sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and +ready for rest and not much inclined to find fault with your lot. +I have not yet persuaded myself, however, that the women are happy. +They have to work as hard as the men and get less for it; +they have to produce offspring, quite regardless of times +and seasons <114> and the general fitness of things ; they +have to do this as expeditiously as possible, so that they +may not unduly interrupt the work in hand; nobody helps them, +notices them, or cares about them, least of all the husband. +It is quite a usual thing to see them working in the fields +in the morning, and working again in the afternoon, having in +the interval produced a baby. The baby is left to an old +woman whose duty it is to look after babies collectively. +When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man +of Wrath informed me that they did not suffer because they had +never worn corsets, nor had their mothers and grandmothers. +We were riding together at the time, and had just passed a batch +of workers, and my husband was speaking to the overseer, +when a woman arrived alone, and taking up a spade, began to dig. +She grinned cheerfully at us as she made a curtesy, and the +overseer remarked that she had just been back to the house +and had a baby. + +"Poor, poor woman!" I cried, as we rode on, feeling for +some occult reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. +"And her wretched husband doesn't care a rap, and will +probably beat her <115> to-night if his supper isn't right. +What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes +when the women have the babies! " + +"Quite so, my dear," replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. +"You have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing this +agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any serious +competition with man. How can a person who is constantly losing a year +of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never loses any time +at all? He has the brute force, and his last word on any subject could always +be his fist." + +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning +of November, and the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses' +feet as we rode towards the Hirschwald. + +"It is a universal custom," proceeded the Man of Wrath, +"amongst these Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes +everywhere, and certainly commendable on the score of simplicity, +to silence a woman's objections and aspirations by knocking her down. +I have heard it said that this apparently brutal action has anything +but the maddening effect tenderly nurtured persons might suppose, +and that the patient is soothed and satisfied with a rapidity +and completeness unattainable by other and more polite methods. +Do you suppose," he went on, flicking a twig off a tree with his whip +as we passed, "that the intellectual husband, wrestling intellectually +with the chaotic yearnings of his intellectual wife, ever achieves +the result aimed at? He may and does go on wrestling till he is tired, +but never does he in the very least convince her of her folly; +while his brother in the ragged coat has got through the whole +business in less time than it takes me to speak about it. +There is no doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far +more thoroughly than the women in our class, and, as the truest: +happiness consists in finding one's vocation quickly and continuing +in it all one's days, I consider they are to be envied rather +than not, since they are early taught, by the impossibility +of argument with marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour +and the blessings of content." + +"Pray go on," I said politely. + +"These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy +of all praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the +strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. +In Russia, not only may a man <117> beat his wife, but it is laid +down in the catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation +as necessary at least once a week, whether she has done anything or not, +for the sake of her general health and happiness." + +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather +to gloat over these castigations. + +"Pray, my dear man," I said, pointing with my whip, +"look at that baby moon so innocently peeping at us over +the edge of the mist just behind that silver birch; and don't +talk so much about women and things you don't understand. +What is the use of your bothering about fists and whips and +muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the confusion +of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, +and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man. + +"And a civilised wife?" he asked, bringing his horse +close up beside me and putting his arm round my waist, +"has she ceased to be a woman?" + +"I should think so indeed,--she is a goddess, and can +never be worshipped and adored enough." + +"It seems to me," he said, "that the conversation is growing personal." +<118> + +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. +The Hirschwald is an enchanted place on such an evening, +when the mists lie low on the turf, and overhead the delicate, +bare branches of the silver birches stand out clear against the soft sky, +while the little moon looks down kindly on the damp November world. +Where the trees thicken into a wood, the fragrance of the wet earth +and rotting leaves kicked up by the horses' hoofs fills my soul +with delight. I particularly love that smell,--it brings before me +the entire benevolence of Nature, for ever working death and decay, +so piteous in themselves, into the means of fresh life and glory, +and sending up sweet odours as she works. + + +December 7th.--I have been to England. I went for at least +a month and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. +Twice I fled before the fogs into the country to see friends +with gardens, but it was raining, and except the beautiful lawns +(not to be had in the Fatherland) and the infinite possibilities, +there was nothing to interest the intelligent and garden-loving foreigner, +for the good reason that you cannot be interested in gardens under +an <119> umbrella. So I went back to the fogs, and after groping +about for a few days more began to long inordinately for Germany. +A terrific gale sprang up after I had started, and the journey both +by sea and land was full of horrors, the trains in Germany being +heated to such an extent that it is next to impossible to sit still, +great gusts of hot air coming up under the cushions, the cushions +themselves being very hot, and the wretched traveller still hotter. + +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, +brightest snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed +to be listening, the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot +and on the trees, and a happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, +I was consoled for all my torments, only remembering them enough to wonder +why I had gone away at all. + +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant +bouquet of pine needles and grass in the other, and what with +the due presentation of the bouquets and the struggles of +the kittens, the hugging and kissing was much interfered with. +Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all somehow squeezed into +the sleigh, and off we went with jingling bells and shrieks +of delight. <120> + +"Directly you comes home the fun begins," said the May baby, +sitting very close to me. "How the snow purrs!" cried the +April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their feet. +The June baby sat loudly singing "The King of Love my Shepherd is," +and swinging her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. + +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode +of peace, and I ran through all the rooms, eager to take possession +of them again, and feeling as though I had been away for ever. +When I got to the library I came to a standstill,--ah, the dear room, +what happy times I have spent in it rummaging amongst the books, +making plans for my garden, building castles in the air, writing, +dreaming, doing nothing! There was a big peat fire blazing half up +the chimney, and the old housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, +and on the writingtable was a great bunch of violets scenting the room. +"Oh, how good it is to be home again!" I sighed in my satisfaction. +The babies clung about my knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. +Outside the dazzling snow and sunshine, inside the bright room +and happy faces--I thought of those yellow fogs and shivered. <121> + +The library is not used by the Man of Wrath ; it is +neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour before +he disappears into his own rooms--a series of very smoky dens +in the southeast corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, +rather too gay for an ideal library; and its colouring, +white and yellow, is so cheerful as to be almost frivolous. +There are white bookcases all round the walls, and there +is a great fireplace, and four windows, facing full south, +opening on to my most cherished bit of garden, the bit round +the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such a big fire +and such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, +in spite of the venerable volumes filling the shelves. +Indeed, I should never be surprised if they skipped down from +their places, and, picking up their leaves, began to dance. + +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity +to being snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go into +the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. +The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes +me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of all +the spotlessness. <122> + +Yesterday I sat out of doors near the sun-dial the whole afternoon, +with the thermometer so many degrees below freezing that it +will be weeks finding its way up again; but there was no wind, +and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. +I even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, +and sat till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. +I had to drink the tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination +to begin to freeze. After the sun had gone down the rooks came home +to their nests in the garden with a great fuss and fluttering, and many +hesitations and squabbles before they settled on their respective trees. +They flew over my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings, +and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an intense hush fell +upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas card, +with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, +and lamplight shining in the windows. + +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, +in the intervals between looking round me and being happy. +He came one day with the book and begged me to read it, +having discovered <123> that my interest in Luther was not as living +as it ought to be; so I took it out with me into the garden, +because the dullest book takes on a certain saving grace +if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, devoid of +charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. +I read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances +at the garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. +His struggles with devils amazed me ; and I wondered whether +such a day as that, full of grace and the forgiveness of sins, +never struck him as something to make him relent even towards devils. +He apparently never allowed himself just to be happy. +He was a wonderful man, but I am glad I was not his wife. + +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts +to improve himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have +a spare moment, and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings +with one hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, +of course, getting the greater share of her attention. To most German +Hausfraus the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance, +and they pride themselves on keeping those parts of their houses +that are seen in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, +and this is exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, +are there not other things even more important? And is not plain +living and high thinking better than the other way about? +And all too careful making of dinners and dusting of furniture takes +a terrible amount of precious time, and--and with shame I confess +that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the grammar. +It cannot be right to be the slave of one's household gods, and I protest +that if my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted when I +wanted to be doing something else, and there was no one to do the dusting +for me, I would cast it all into the nearest bonfire and sit and warm +my toes at the flames with great contentment, triumphantly selling +my dusters to the very next pedlar who was weak enough to buy them. +Parsons' wives have to do the housework and cooking themselves, +and are thus not only cooks and housemaids, but if they have children-- +and they always do have children--they are head and under nurse as well; +and besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their +fruit and vegetable garden, and everything to do with their poultry. +This being so, is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely +struggling to learn languages and keep up with her husband? +If I were that husband, those puddings would taste sweetest to me +that were served with Latin sauce. They are both severely pious, +and are for ever engaged in desperate efforts to practise what +they preach; than which, as we all know, nothing is more difficult. +He works in his parish with the most noble self-devotion, and +never loses courage, although his efforts have been several times +rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the street-corners, +thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden wall. +The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a sensitive, +intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before swine. +For years he has gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most living +faith and hope and charity, and I sometimes wonder whether they are +any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor, +a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night, +never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty congregation +waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap. +It is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave +the parish to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never +seems <126> discouraged, and goes on sacrificing the best part +of his life to these people when all his tastes are literary, +and all his inclinations towards the life of the student. +His convictions drag him out of his little home at all hours to +minister to the sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no rest, +and never let him feel he has done enough; and when he comes home weary, +after a day's wrestling with his parishioners' souls, he is confronted +on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front door. +He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid? +Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, +and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest +than the most astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, +roomy cottage, and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. +His predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry, +but then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency, +and had finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon +of a most vituperative description, and hurling invective at +the Man of Wrath, who sat up in his box drinking in every word +and enjoying himself thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes novelty, +and such a sermon had never been heard before. <127> It is spoken +of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy. + + +December 22nd.--Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. +Clear skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch +now and then, very few really cold days. My windows are gay with +hyacinths and lilies of the valley; and though, as I have said, +I don't admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring when it seems +wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers, +I am glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness. +In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; besides, one is +actually less fastidious about everything in the winter. +The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness, +and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are +perfectly welcome then. + +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have +often locked myself up in a room alone, shutting out my +unfinished duties, to study the flower catalogues and make +my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the spring. +It is a fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional +charm when you know you ought to be doing something else, +that Christmas is at the door, that children <128> and servants +and farm hands depend on you for their pleasure, and that, +if you don't see to the decoration of the trees and house, +and the buying of the presents, nobody else will. +The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and with Duty +snarling on the other side of the door. I don't like Duty-- +everything in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one's duty. +Why cannot it be my duty to make lists and plans for the dear garden? +"And so it is," I insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he +protested against what he called wasting my time upstairs. +"No," he replied sagely; "your garden is not your duty, +because it is your Pleasure." + +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly +at my disposal! Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given +to have a sage, and the combination of both is as rare as it is useful. +Indeed, in its practical utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it +is a sofa my neighbour has bought as a Christmas surprise for her husband, +and which she showed me the last time I called there--a beautiful invention, +as she explained, combining a bedstead, a sofa, and a chest of drawers, +and into which you put your clothes, and on top of which you put yourself, +and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and you happen to be +using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the bedclothes inside, +and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa and looking for all +the world as though you had been expecting visitors for hours. + +"Pray, does he wear pyjamas?" I inquired. + +But she had never heard of pyjamas. + +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. +I want to have a border all yellow, every shade of yellow +from fieriest orange to nearly white, and the amount +of work and studying of gardening books it costs me +will only be appreciated by beginners like myself. +I have been weeks planning it, and it is not nearly finished. +I want it to be a succession of glories from May till the frosts, +and the chief feature is to be the number of "ardent marigolds"-- +flowers that I very tenderly love--and nasturtiums. +The nasturtiums are to be of every sort and shade, +and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show +their lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. +Then there are to be eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, +zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, yellow violas, yellow stocks, +yellow sweet-peas, yellow lupins--everything that is yellow +or that has a yellow variety. The place I have chosen for it +is a long, wide border in the sun, at the foot of a grassy +slope crowned with lilacs and pines, and facing southeast. +You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a corner, +are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. +I want it to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, +cool path through the wood. + +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon +the probable difference between the idea and its realisation. +I am ignorant, and the gardener is, I do believe, still more so; +for he was forcing some tulips, and they have all shrivelled up +and died, and he says he cannot imagine why. Besides, he is in love +with the cook, and is going to marry her after Christmas, and refuses +to enter into any of my plans with the enthusiasm they deserve, +but sits with vacant eye dreamily chopping wood from morning till +night to keep the beloved one's kitchen fire well supplied. +I cannot understand any one preferring cooks to marigolds; +those future marigolds, shadowy as they are, and whose seeds are +still sleeping at the seedsman's, have shone through my winter days +like golden lamps. + +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of <131> course the first +thing I should do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I +should have the delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands +and need not waste time explaining what I want done to somebody else. +It is dull work giving orders and trying to describe the bright +visions of one's brain to a person who has no visions and no brain, +and who thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias edged with blue. + +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only +those humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, +for my soil is by no means all that it might be, and to most +plants the climate is rather trying. I feel really grateful +to any flower that is sturdy and willing enough to flourish here. +Pansies seem to like the place and so do sweet-peas; pinks don't, +and after much coaxing gave hardly any flowers last summer. +Nearly all the roses were a success, in spite of the sandy soil, +except the tea-rose Adam, which was covered with buds ready +to open, when they suddenly turned brown and died, and three +standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. +I had been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description +in the catalogues being <132> specially fascinating, +and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I got. "Never be excited, +my dears, about anything," shall be the advice I will give +the three babies when the time comes to take them out to parties, +"or, if you are, don't show it. If by nature you are volcanoes, +at least be only smouldering ones. Don't look pleased, +don't look interested, don't, above all things, look eager. +Calm indifference should be written on every feature of your faces. +Never show that you like any one person, or any one thing. +Be cool, languid, and reserved. If you don't do as your +mother tells you and are just gushing, frisky, young idiots, +snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you'll marry princes and live happily ever after." + +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of +the world the more you are pleased to see a person the less +is he pleased to see you; whereas, if you are disagreeable, +he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance expanding +into wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. +But I was not Prepared for that sort of thing in a rose, +and was disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the best place in +the garden--warm, sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared +<133> with the tenderest care; he was given the most dainty +mixture of compost, clay, and manure; he was watered assiduously +all through the drought when more willing flowers got nothing; +and he refused to do anything but look black and shrivel. +He did not die, but neither did he live--he just existed; +and at the end of the summer not one of him had a scrap +more shoot or leaf than when he was first put in in April. +It would have been better if he had died straight away, for then +I should have known what to do; as it is, there he is still +occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully for the winter, +excluding kinder roses, and probably intending to repeat +the same conduct next year. Well, trials are the portion +of mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any case +it is better to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that +with plants you know that it is you who are in the wrong, +and with persons it is always the other way about--and who is +there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured innocence, +and known them to be grievous? + +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing +to provoke such an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy +little Christmas alone with the Man of Wrath and the <134> babies. +Fate decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, if I look forward to anything, +Fate steps in and decrees otherwise; I don't know why it should, but it does. +I had not even invited these good ladies--like greatness on the modest, +they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet singer of the summer, +whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly thought I had seen +the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I would have her +over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she didn't like him +in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, full of sympathy, +I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other is Minora. + +Why I have to have Minora I don't know, for I +was not even aware of her existence a fortnight ago. +Then coming down cheerfully one morning to breakfast-- +it was the very day after my return from England-- +I found a letter from an English friend, who up till then +had been perfectly innocuous, asking me to befriend Minora. +I read the letter aloud for the benefit of the Man of Wrath, +who was eating Spickgans, a delicacy much sought after in +these parts. <135> + +"Do, my dear Elizabeth," wrote my friend, "take some +notice of the poor thing. She is studying art in Dresden, +and has nowhere literally to go for Christmas. +She is very ambitious and hardworking--" + +"Then," interrupted the Man of Wrath," she is not pretty. +"Only ugly girls work hard." + +"--and she is really very clever--" + +"I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid," +again interrupted the Man of Wrath. + +"--and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity +on her she will be very lonely." + +"Then let her be lonely." + +"Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to think +that her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a season." + +"I do not mind the distress of the mother." + +"Oh, dear me," I exclaimed impatiently, "I shall have to ask +her to come!" + +"If you should be inclined," the letter went on, "to play +the good Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would +find Minora a bright, intelligent companion--" + +"Minora?" questioned the Man of Wrath. + +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether +alarmingly zealous type <136> attached to her person for the last six weeks, +looked up from her bread and milk. + +"It sounds like islands," she remarked pensively. + +The governess coughed. + +"Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark," explained her pupil. + +I looked at her severely. + +"If you are not careful, April," I said, "you'll be a genius +when you grow up and disgrace your parents." + +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. +I am afraid she despises us because she thinks we are foreigners-- +an attitude of mind quite British and wholly to her credit; but we, +on the other hand, regard her as a foreigner, which, of course, +makes things complicated. + +"Shall I really have to have this strange girl?" +I asked, addressing nobody in particular and not expecting a reply. + +"You need not have her," said the Man of Wrath composedly, +"but you will. You will write to-day and cordially invite her, +and when she has been here twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. +I know you, my dear." + +"Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?" <137> + +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually +scenting a scene, and is always ready to bring whole batteries +of discretion and tact and good taste to bear on us, and seems +to know we are disputing in an unseemly manner when we would +never dream it ourselves but for the warning of her downcast eyes. +I would take my courage in both hands and ask her to go, +for besides this superfluity of discreet behaviour she is, +although only nursery, much too zealous, and inclined to be always +teaching and never playing; but, unfortunately, the April baby +adores her and is sure there never was any one so beautiful before. +She comes every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of +her wardrobe, and feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; +and Miss Jones looks offended and purses up her lips. +In common with most governesses, she has a little dark +down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared one day +at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, +having achieved it after much struggling, with the aid of a lead +pencil and unbounded love. Miss Jones put her in the corner +for impertinence. I wonder why governesses are so unpleasant. +The Man of Wrath says it is because they are not married. +Without venturing <138> to differ entirely from the opinion +of experience, I would add that the strain of continually having +to set an example must surely be very great. It is much easier, +and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, +and governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, +and when you want to be foolish it must be annoying to have +to be wise. + +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, +when the carriage drove up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed +me that there was a strange girl on a bicycle a little way behind. +I sent back the carriage to pick her up, for it was dusk and +the roads are terrible. + +"But why do you have strange girls here at all?" asked Irais +rather peevishly, taking off her hat in the library before the fire, +and otherwise making herself very much at home; "I don't like them. +I'm not sure that they're not worse than husbands who are out of order. +Who is she? She would bicycle from the station, and is, I am sure, +the first woman who has done it. The little boys threw stones at her." + +"Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. +Never mind her. Let us have tea in peace before she comes." <139> + +"But we should be much happier without her," she grumbled. +"Weren't we happy enough in the summer, Elizabeth--just you and I? " + +"Yes, indeed we were," I answered heartily, putting my +arms round her. The flame of my affection for Irais burns +very brightly on the day of her arrival; besides, this time I +have prudently provided against her sinning with the salt-cellars +by ordering them to be handed round like vegetable dishes. +We had finished tea and she had gone up to her room to dress +before Minora and her bicycle were got here. I hurried out +to meet her, feeling sorry for her, plunged into a circle +of strangers at such a very personal season as Christmas. +But she was not very shy; indeed, she was less shy than I was, +and lingered in the hall, giving the servants directions +to wipe the snow off the tyres of her machine before she lent +an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. + +"I couldn't make your man understand me at the station," +she said at last, when her mind was at rest about her bicycle; +"I asked him how far it was, and what the roads were like, +and he only smiled. Is he German? But of course he is-- +how odd that he didn't understand. You speak English very well,-- +very well indeed, do you know." <140> + +By this time we were in the library, and she stood on the hearth-rug +warming her back while I poured her out some tea. + +"What a quaint room," she remarked, looking round, +"and the hall is so curious too. Very old, isn't it? +There's a lot of copy here." + +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival +and had come in with us, began to look about on the carpet. +"Copy" he inquired, "Where's copy? " + +"Oh--material, you know, for a book. I'm just jotting down what strikes +me in your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book form." +She spoke very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. + +"My dear," I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room +and shut the door and Minora was safely in hers, "what do you think-- +she writes books!" + +"What--the bicycling girl?" + +"Yes--Minora--imagine it!" + +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. + +"How dreadful!" murmured Irais. "I never met a young girl +who did that before." + +"She says this place is full of copy." <141> + +"Full of what? " + +"That's what you make books with." + +"Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is +always a bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her. +But a girl who writes books--why, it isn't respectable! +And you can't snub that sort of people; they're unsnubbable." + +"Oh, but we'll try!" I cried, with such heartiness +that we both laughed. + +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she +lingered so long after dinner in the hall, which is cold, +that the Man of Wrath put on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint. +His hints are always gentle. + +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and +the nuns and Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book +began to take down what I said. I at once relapsed into silence. + +"Well?" she said. + +"That's all." + +"Oh, but you've only just begun." + +"It doesn't go any further. Won't you come into the library? " + +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire +and warmed herself, and we sat in <142> a row and were cold. +She has a wonderfully good profile, which is irritating. +The wind, however, is tempered to the shorn lamb by her eyes +being set too closely together. + +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, +contemplated her critically beneath her long eyelashes. +"You are writing a book?" she asked presently. + +"Well--yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, +you know, of your country. Anything that strikes me as curious +or amusing--I jot it down, and when I have time shall work it up +into something, I daresay." + +"Are you not studying painting? " + +"Yes, but I can't study that for ever. We have an English proverb: +'Life is short and Art is long'--too long, I sometimes think-- +and writing is a great relaxation when I am tired." + +"What shall you call it?" + +"Oh, I thought of calling it Journeyings in Germany. +It sounds well, and would be correct. Or Jottings from +German Journeyings,--I haven't quite decided yet which." + +"By the author of Prowls in Pomerania, you might add," suggested Irais. + +"And Drivel from Dresden," said I. <143> + + +"And Bosh from Berlin," added Irais. + +Minora stared. "I don't think those two last ones would do," +she said, "because it is not to be a facetious book. +But your first one is rather a good title," she added, +looking at Irais and drawing out her note-book. "I think I'll +just jot that down." + +"If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it +still be your book?" asked Irais. + +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. + +"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, +turning to the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds +of smoke in silence. + +"Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?" + +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, +and were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her +note-book. The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded +to under his very nose by our new guest as "him." + +"Husbands are always sages," said I gravely. + +"Though sages are not always husbands," said Irais with equal gravity. +"Sages and husbands--sage and husbands--" she went on musingly, "what does +that remind you of, Miss Minora?" + +"Oh, I know,--how stupid of me!" cried Minora eagerly, her pencil +in mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, "sage and,-- +why,--yes,--no,--yes, of course--oh," disappointedly, "but that's vulgar-- +I can't put it in." + +"What is vulgar?" I asked. + +"She thinks sage and onions is vulgar," said Irais languidly; +"but it isn't, it is very good." She got up and walked to +the piano, and, sitting down, began, after a little wandering +over the keys, to sing. + +"Do you play?" I asked Minora. + +"Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice." + +I said no more. I know what that sort of playing is. + +"When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora +began suddenly to speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. +"What is the matter with her?" murmured Irais. + +"I thought, perhaps," said Minora in English, you might prefer +to talk German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk--" <145> + +"Oh, pray don't trouble," said Irais. "We like airing our English-- +don't we, Elizabeth?" + +"I don't want my German to get rusty though," said Minora; +"I shouldn't like to forget it." + +"Oh, but isn't there an English song," said Irais, twisting round +her neck as she preceded us upstairs, "''Tis folly to remember, +'tis wisdom to forget'?" + +"You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope," I said hastily. + +"What room is she in?" asked Irais. + +"No. 12." + +"Oh!--do you believe in ghosts?" + +Minora turned pale. + +"What nonsense," said I; "we have no ghosts here. +Good-night. If you want anything, mind you ring." + +"And if you see anything curious in that room," +called Irais from her bedroom door, "mind you jot it down." + + +December 27th--It is the fashion, I believe, +to regard Christmas as a bore of rather a gross description, +and as a time when you are invited to over-eat yourself, +and pretend to be merry <146> without just cause. +As a matter of fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic +institutions possible, if observed in the proper manner, +and after having been more or less unpleasant to everybody +for a whole year, it is a blessing to be forced on that one day +to be amiable, and it is certainly delightful to be able to give +presents without being haunted by the conviction that you +are spoiling the recipient, and will suffer for it afterward. +Servants are only big children, and are made just as happy +as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, +for days beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden +they expect to meet the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. +They firmly believe that it is thus their presents are brought, +and it is such a charming idea that Christmas would be worth +celebrating for its sake alone. + +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve +entirely on me, and it is not very easy work, with so many people +in our own house and on each of the farms, and all the children, +big and little, expecting their share of happiness. +The library is uninhabitable for several days before and after, +as it is there that we have the trees and presents. +All down one side are the trees, and <147> the other three sides +are lined with tables, a separate one for each person in the house. +When the trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance shining +down on the happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, +and the number of times I have had to run up and down stairs, +and the various aches in head and feet, and enjoy myself as much +as anybody. First the June baby is ushered in, then the others +and ourselves according to age, then the servants, then come +the head inspector and his family, the other inspectors from +the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and secretaries, +and then all the children, troops and troops of them-- +the big ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying +the babies in their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. +As many as can get in stand in front of the trees, and sing +two or three carols; then they are given their presents, +and go off triumphantly, making room for the next batch. +My three babies sang lustily too, whether they happened +to know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses +in honour of the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed +in a low-necked and short-sleeved garment, after the manner +of Teutonic infants, whatever the <148> state of the thermometer. +Her arms are like miniature prize-fighter's arms--I never saw +such things; they are the pride and joy of her little nurse, +who had tied them up with blue ribbons, and kept on kissing them. +I shall certainly not be able to take her to balls when she +grows up, if she goes on having arms like that. + +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. +The April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, +which she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, +but because she was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. +They kissed me absently, and went away, only the April baby glancing +at the trees as she passed and making them a curtesy. + +"Good-bye, trees," I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese +doll bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blase fashion. +"You'll never see such trees again," she told him, giving him +a vindictive shake, "for you'll be brokened long before next time." + +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. + +"Thank the Christkind so much, Mummy, won't you, +for all the lovely things He brought <149> us. I suppose +you're writing to Him now, isn't you?" + +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, +and we were perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least +two days it brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. +Happiness is so wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety +far more effectually than any amount of trials and griefs, and an +unexpected pleasure is the surest means of bringing me to my knees. +In spite of the protestations of some peculiarly constructed +persons that they are the better for trials, I don't believe it. +Such things must sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, +and make us kinder, and more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it +behoves us to be more thankful for trials than for blessings? +We were meant to be happy, and to accept all the happiness offered +with thankfulness--indeed, we are none of us ever thankful enough, +and yet we each get so much, so very much, more than we deserve. +I know a woman--she stayed with me last summer--who rejoices grimly +when those she loves suffer. She believes that it is our lot, +and that it braces us and does us good, and she <150> would shield +no one from even unnecessary pain; she weeps with the sufferer, +but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her continue +in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the beauty and +the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire to possess one; +her convictions have the sad gray colouring of the dingy streets +and houses she lives amongst--the sad colour of humanity in masses. +Submission to what people call their "lot" is simply ignoble. +If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and take another; +strike out for yourself; don't listen to the shrieks of your relations, +to their gibes or their entreaties; don't let your own microscopic +set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don't be afraid +of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next house, +when all the world is before you new and shining, and everything +is possible, if you will only be energetic and independent and seize +opportunity by the scruff of the neck. + +"To hear you talk," said Irais, "no one would ever imagine +that you dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you +never in your life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. +<151> And what is scruff? I hope I have not got any on me." +And she craned her neck before the glass. + +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, +but very soon Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired +and took up a book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies-- +it was Miss Jones's last public appearance, as I shall relate-- +and after working for the best part of two days they were finished, +and looked like lovely ladies in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, +holding up their skirts with glittering fingers. +Minora wrote a long description of them for a chapter of her +book which is headed Noel,--I saw that much, because she left +it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. +They were fast friends from the very first, and though it +is said to be natural to take to one's own countrymen, +I am unable altogether to sympathise with such a reason +for sudden affection. + +"I wonder what they talk about?" I said to Irais yesterday, +when there was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she +engaged in conversation with Miss Jones. + +"Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I <152> suppose, +or else they think they are clever, and then they talk rubbish." + +"Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever." + +"I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? +Why does your governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon +I always imagine she must have just heard that somebody is dead. +But she can't hear that every day. What is the matter with her? " + +"I don't think she feels quite as proper as she looks," +I said doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for +Miss Jones's expression. + +"But that must be rather nice," said Irais. "It would +be awful for her if she felt exactly the same as she looks." + +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, +and the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, +leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying-- + +"Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be terrible. +Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have continually +to pose <153> before their flock as such. As for governesses, Miss Minora, +I know what I am saying when I affirm that there is nothing more +intolerable than to have to be polite, and even humble, to persons whose +weaknesses and follies are glaringly apparent in every word they utter, +and to be forced by the presence of children and employers to a dignity +of manner in no way corresponding to one's feelings. The grave father +of a family, who was probably one of the least respectable of bachelors, +is an interesting study at his own table, where he is constrained to assume +airs of infallibility merely because his children are looking at him. +The fact of his being a parent does not endow him with any supreme and +sudden virtue; and I can assure you that among the eyes fixed upon him, +not the least critical and amused are those of the humble person who fills +the post of governess." + +"Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!" we heard Minora say +in accents of rapture, while we sat transfixed with horror at +these sentiments. "Do you mind if I put that down in my book? +You say it all so beautifully." + +"Without a few hours of relaxation," continued Miss Jones, +"of private indemnification for the <154> toilsome virtues displayed +in public, who could wade through days of correct behaviour? +There would be no reaction, no room for better impulses, +no place for repentance. Parents, priests, and governesses +would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a quiet +moment in which she can take off her corsets." + +"My dear, what a firebrand!" whispered Irais. I got up and went in. +They were sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing admiringly +into Miss Jones's face, which wore a very different expression from the one +of sour and unwilling propriety I have been used to seeing. + +"May I ask you to come to tea?" I said to Minora. +And I should like to have the children a little while." + +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door +open until she had gone in and the two babies had followed. +They had been playing at stuffing each other's ears with pieces +of newspaper while Miss Jones provided Minora with noble thoughts +for her work, and had to be tortured afterward with tweezers. +I said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us till dinner-time, +and this morning we went for a long sleigh-drive. <155> + +When we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. + +"Is Miss Jones ill?" asked Minora. + +"She is gone," I said. + +"Gone? " + +"Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?" asked Irais blandly; +and we talked resolutely of something else. + +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, +and it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits +so often are. It is enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, +poor thing, that she should have preferred the society of a Miss Jones +to that of Irais and myself. + +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. +"You look so pale," she said; "are you not well?" + +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one +who likes to be thought a sufferer. "I have a slight headache," +she replied gently. + +"I hope you are not going to be ill," said Irais with great concern, +"because there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means well, +I believe he is rather rough." <156> + +Minora was plainly startled. "But what do you do if you +are ill?" she asked. + +"Oh, we are never ill," said I; "the very knowledge that there +would be no one to cure us seems to keep us healthy." + +"And if any one takes to her bed," said Irais, "Elizabeth always calls +in the cow-doctor." + +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part +of the world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised +creature besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. +Whatever her reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. + + +January 1st.--The service on New Year's Eve is the only one in +the whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, +and then the very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial +produce an effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. +Last night we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely +miles in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns. +We sat wrapped up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a funeral procession. + +We are going to the burial of our last year's <157> sins," +said Irais, as we started; and there certainly was a funereal sort +of feeling in the air. Up in our gallery pew we tried to decipher +our chorales by the light of the spluttering tallow candles stuck in +holes in the woodwork, the flames wildly blown about by the draughts. +The wind banged against the windows in great gusts, screaming louder +than the organ, and threatening to blow out the agitated lights together. +The parson in his gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a framework of dusty +carved angels, took on an awful appearance of menacing Authority +as he raised his voice to make himself heard above the clatter. +Sitting there in the dark, I felt very small, and solitary, and defenceless, +alone in a great, big, black world. The church was as cold as a tomb; +some of the candles guttered and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke +of death and judgment; I thought I heard a child's voice screaming, and could +hardly believe it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; +all my faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I +should probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise idea. +If it had not been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so despairingly, +<158> I should have paid little attention to the threats issuing +from the pulpit; but, as it was, I fell to making good resolutions. +This is always a bad sign,--only those who break them make them; +and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is right as it comes, +any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely superfluous. +I have for some years past left off making them on New Year's Eve, +and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing so last night; +for I have long since discovered that, though the year and the resolutions +may be new, I myself am not, and it is worse than useless putting new +wine into old bottles. + +"But I am not an old bottle," said Irais indignantly, when I held +forth to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, +restored to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, "and I find +my resolutions carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them +at the end of each month, and strike out the unnecessary ones. +By the end of April they have been so severely revised that there +are none left." + +"There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new +contents would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, +and <159> the practice of your resolutions would lose its bitterness +by becoming a habit." + +She shook her head. "Such things never lose their bitterness," she said, +"and that is why I don't let them cling to me right into the summer. +When May comes, I give myself up to jollity with all the rest of the world, +and am too busy being happy to bother about anything I may have resolved +when the days were cold and dark." + +"And that is just why I love you," I thought. +She often says what I feel. + +"I wonder," she went on after a pause, "whether men +ever make resolutions?" + +"I don't think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. +It is a nice sort of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, +giving way to endless grief and penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes +in contrition; but it is silly. Why cry over things that are done? +Why do naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? +Nobody is naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really +repents unless they are afraid they are going to be found out." + +"By 'nobody' of course you mean women, said Irais. + +"Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally +have the courage of their opinions." + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais in the amiably +polite tone she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. + +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting +round the fire, waiting for the New Year, and sipping Glubwein, +prepared at a small table by the Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, +and rather nasty, but it is proper to drink it on this one night, +so of course we did. + +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon +discovered that, and laugh about it when we are alone together. +I can understand her disliking Irais, but she must be a perverse +creature not to like me. Irais has poked fun at her, and I have been, +I hope, very kind; yet we are bracketed together in her black books. +It is also apparent that she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an interesting +example of an ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is disposed +to take him under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against us. +He never speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, +as far as Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, +and sits sphinx-like and impenetrable while <161> she takes us to task +about some remark of a profane nature that we may have addressed to him. +One night, some days after her arrival, she developed a skittishness +of manner which has since disappeared, and tried to be playful with him; +but you might as well try to be playful with a graven image. +The wife of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the first +after a series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health +of all parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink +a glass off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. +Minora thought the incident typical of German manners, and not only +made notes about it, but joined heartily in the health-drinking, and +afterward grew skittish. + +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, +I think, the Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced +in England; and, to induce us to learn, she played the tune +to us on the piano. We remained untouched by its beauties, +each buried in an easy-chair toasting our toes at the fire. +Amongst those toes were those of the Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably +reading a book and smoking. Minora volunteered to show us the steps, +and as we still did <162> not move, danced solitary behind our chairs. +Irais did not even turn her head to look, and I was the only one +amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve to be placed +in Minora's list of disagreeable people side by side with Irais? +Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. + +"It wants the music, of course," observed Minora breathlessly, +darting in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, +but glancing at the Man of Wrath. + +No answer from anybody. + +"It is such a pretty dance," she panted again, after a +few more gyrations. + +No answer. + +"And is all the rage at home." + +No answer. + +"Do let me teach you. Won't you try, Herr Sage?" + +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. +It is thus she always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, +so patent to every one else, that he resents it. + +"Oh come, put away that tiresome old book," +she went on gaily, as he did not move; "I am certain it +is only some dry agricultural work that you just nod over. +Dancing is much better for you." <163> + +Irais and I looked at one another quite frightened. +I am sure we both turned pale when the unhappy girl actually laid +hold forcibly of his book, and, with a playful little shriek, +ran away with it into the next room, hugging it to her bosom +and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she ran. +There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. +Then the Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end +of his cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door +into his own rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. +She has never, I must say, been skittish since. + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais, +"because this sort of conversation is likely to do you good." + +"I always listen when people talk sensibly," replied Minora, +stirring her grog. + +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. +"Do you agree with our hostess's description of women?" +she asked after a pause. + +"As nobodies? No, of course I do not." + +"Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally +nobodies in our country. Did you know that women are forbidden +to go to political meetings here?" <164> + +"Really?" Out came the note-book. + +"The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings +of women, children, and idiots." + +"Children and idiots--I understand that," said Minora; "but women-- +and classed with children and idiots?" + +"Classed with children and idiots," repeated Irais, +gravely nodding her head. "Did you know that the law forbids +females of any age to ride on the top of omnibuses or tramcars?" + +"Not really?" + +"Do you know why?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps +catch a glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles." + +"But what--" + +"Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them? " + +"But I don't see how a stocking--" + +"With stripes round it," said Irais. + +"And darns in it," I added. + +--could possibly be pernicious? " + +"'The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,'" +said Irais. "Put <165> that down as the name of your next book on Germany." + +"I never know," complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, +"whether you are in earnest or not." + +"Don't you?" said Irais sweetly. + +"Is it true," appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, +busy with his lemons in the background, "that your law classes +women with children and idiots?" + +"Certainly," he answered promptly, "and a very +proper classification, too." + +We all looked blank. "That's rude," said I at last. + +"Truth is always rude, my dear," he replied complacently. +Then he added, "If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, +and had previously enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, +of listening to the conversation of you three young ladies, +I should make precisely the same classification." + +Even Minora was incensed at this. + +"You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we +are idiots," said Irais. + +"Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,--nice little +agreeable children. I very much like <166> to hear you talk together. +It is all so young and fresh what you think and what you believe, +and not of the least consequence to any one. + +"Not of the least consequence?" cried Minora. +"What we believe is of very great consequence indeed to us." + +"Are you jeering at our beliefs?" inquired Irais sternly. + +"Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb +or change your pretty little beliefs. It is your chief charm +that you always believe every-thing. How desperate would our case +be if young ladies only believed facts, and never accepted another +person's assurance, but preferred the evidence of their own eyes! +They would have no illusions, and a woman without illusions is +the dreariest and most difficult thing to manage possible." + +"Thing?" protested Irais. + +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it +from time to time by holding forth at unnecessary length. +He took up his stand now with his back to the fire, +and a glass of Glubwein in his hand. Minora had hardly +heard his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, +and sat with her pencil raised, ready to fix for <167> ever +the wisdom that should flow from his lips. + +"What would become of poetry if women became so sensible +that they turned a deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? +That love does indulge in platitudes I suppose you will admit." +He looked at Irais. + +"Yes, they all say exactly the same thing," she acknowledged. + +"Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, +if the listener's want of imagination was such as to enable her only +to distinguish one victim in the picture, and that one herself? " + +Minora took that down word for word,--much good may it do her. + +"Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused +he will die, if his assurances merely elicit a recommendation +to diet himself, and take plenty of outdoor exercise? +Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe them. +Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross +that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to tell +the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to. +Who indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than +<168> the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained2 He will, +like the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations, +display all his talent, untiringly repeat his sweetest notes, +until he has what he wants, when his song, like the nightingale's, +immediately ceases, never again to be heard." + +"Take that down," murmured Irais aside to Minora--unnecessary advice, +for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. + +"A woman's vanity is so immeasurable that, after having +had ninety-nine object-lessons in the difference between +promise and performance and the emptiness of pretty speeches, +the beginning of the hundredth will find her lending +the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence +of flattery as she did on the occasion of the first. +What can the exhortations of the strong-minded sister, +who has never had these experiences, do for such a woman? +It is useless to tell her she is man's victim, that she is +his plaything, that she is cheated, down-trodden, kept under, +laughed at, shabbily treated in every way--that is not a true +statement of the case. She is simply the victim of her own vanity, +and against that, against the belief in her own fascinations, +against the very <169> part of herself that gives all the colour +to her life, who shall expect a woman to take up arms?" + +"Are you so vain, Elizabeth?" inquired Irais with a shocked face, +"and had you lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine +before you reached your final destiny?" + +"I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose," I replied, +"for nobody ever wanted me to listen to blandishments." + +Minora sighed. + +"I like to hear you talk together about the position of women," +he went on, "and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly +the position they are fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a better, +no power on earth will be able to keep them out of it. Meanwhile, let me +warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded women wish to see +you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are invariably plain. +The pretty ones would rather see men their slaves than their equals." + +"You know," said Irais, frowning, "that I consider myself strong-minded." + +"And never rise till lunch-time?" + +Irais blushed. Although I don't approve of such conduct, +it is very convenient in more ways <170> than one; +I get through my housekeeping undisturbed, and whenever she +is disposed to lecture me, I begin about this habit of hers. +Her conscience must be terribly stricken on the point, +for she is by no means as a rule given to meekness. + +"A woman without vanity would be unattackable," resumed the Man +of Wrath. "When a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, +she is led solely by her own vanity; for in these days of policemen +no young woman can be forced against her will from the path +of virtue, and the cries of the injured are never heard until +the destroyer begins to express his penitence for having destroyed. +If his passion could remain at white-heat and he could continue +to feed her ear with the protestations she loves, no principles +of piety or virtue would disturb the happiness of his companion; +for a mournful experience teaches that piety begins only where +passion ends, and that principles are strongest where temptations +are most rare." + +"But what has all this to do with us?" I inquired severely. + +"You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, +and I merely wish to justify it," he <171> answered. +"Creatures who habitually say yes to everything a man proposes, +when no one can oblige them to say it, and when it is so often fatal, +are plainly not responsible beings." + +"I shall never say it to you again, my dear man," I said. + +"And not only that fatal weakness," he continued, +"but what is there, candidly, to distinguish you from children? +You are older, but not wiser,--really not so wise, +for with years you lose the common sense you had as children. +Have you ever heard a group of women talking reasonably together? " + +"Yes--we do!" Irais and I cried in a breath. + +"It has interested me," went on the Man of Wrath, "in my idle moments, +to listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little +stories they told of their best friends who were absent, to note +the spiteful little digs they gave their best friends who were present, +to watch the utter incredulity with which they listened to the tale +of some other woman's conquests, the radiant good faith they displayed +in connection with their own, the instant collapse into boredom, +if some topic of so-called general interest, by some extraordinary chance, +were introduced." <172> + +"You must have belonged to a particularly nice set," remarked Irais. + +"And as for politics," he said, "I have never heard them +mentioned among women." + +"Children and idiots are not interested in such things," I said. + +"And we are much too frightened of being put in prison," said Irais. + +"In prison?" echoed Minora. + +"Don't you know," said Irais, turning to her "that if you talk +about such things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?" + +"But why?" + +"But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant +nothing but what was innocent, your words may have suggested +something less innocent to the evil minds of your hearers; +and then the law steps in, and calls it dolus eventualis, +and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to prison +and are punished as you deserve to be." + +Minora looked mystified. + +"That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them," +said the Man of Wrath; "they simply do not interest you. +Or it may be, that you do not consider your female friends' +opinions <173> worth listening to, for you certainly display an +astonishing thirst for information when male politicians are present. +I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly in her twenties, sitting a whole +evening drinking in the doubtful wisdom of an elderly political star, +with every appearance of eager interest. He was a bimetallic star, +and was giving her whole pamphletsful of information." + +"She wanted to make up to him for some reason," said Irais, "and got +him to explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken in. +Now which was the sillier in that case?" + +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, +beating her foot impatiently on the carpet. + +"She wanted to be thought clever," said the Man of Wrath. +"What puzzled me," he went on musingly," was that she went +away apparently as serene and happy as when she came. +The explanation of the principles of bimetallism produce, +as a rule, a contrary effect." + +"Why, she hadn't been listening," cried Irais, "and your simple +star had been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. + + "Prattle, prattle, simple star, + Bimetallic, wunderbar. + Though you're given to describe + Woman as a dummes Weib. + You yourself are sillier far, + Prattling, bimetallic star!" + +"No doubt she had understood very little," said the Man of Wrath, +taking no notice of this effusion. + +"And no doubt the gentleman hadn't understood much either." +Irais was plainly irritated. + +"Your opinion of woman," said Minora in a very small voice, +"is not a high one. But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree +that no one could take her place? " + +"If you are thinking of hospital-nurses," I said, "I must tell +you that I believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife +instead of a strange woman to nurse him when he is sick." + +"But," said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being +knocked about, "the sick-room is surely the very place of all others +in which a woman's gentleness and tact are most valuable." + +"Gentleness and tact?" repeated the Man of Wrath. +"I have never met those qualities in the professional nurse. +According to my experience, she is a disagreeable person +who finds in private nursing exquisite opportunities for +asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate mankind. +I know of no more humiliating position for a man than to be +in bed having his feverish brow soothed by a sprucely-dressed +strange woman, bristling with starch and spotlessness. +He would give half his income for his clothes, and probably +the other half if she would leave him alone, and go away altogether. +He feels her superiority through every pore; he never before +realised how absolutely inferior he is; he is abjectly polite, +and contemptibly conciliatory; if a friend comes to see him, +he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening behind +the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far +more intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really +belongs to him; he has read of ministering angels and the light +touch of a woman's hand, but the day on which he can ring +for his servant and put on his socks in private fills him +with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt as a homesick +schoolboy at the end of his first term." + +Minora was silent. Irais's foot was livelier than ever. +The Man of Wrath stood smiling blandly <176> down upon us. +You can't argue with a person so utterly convinced of his +infallibility that he won't even get angry with you; +so we sat round and said nothing. + +"If," he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, +"you doubt the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic +notion of noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient +over the rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg +you to try for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, +whether the actual fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief. +The angel who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in such a +questionable shape, that to the unimaginative she appears merely +as an extremely self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first +of all in securing her personal comfort, much given to complaints +about her food and to helplessness where she should be helpful, +possessing an extraordinary capacity for fancying herself slighted, +or not regarded as the superior being she knows herself to be, +morbidly anxious lest the servants should, by some mistake, treat her +with offensive cordiality, pettish if the patient gives more trouble +than she had expected, intensely injured and disagreeable if he is made +so <177> courageous by his wretchedness as to wake her during the night-- +an act of desperation of which I was guilty once, and once only. +Oh, these good women! What sane man wants to have to do with angels? +And especially do we object to having them about us when we are sick +and sorry, when we feel in every fibre what poor things we are, +and when all our fortitude is needed to enable us to bear our +temporary inferiority patiently, without being forced besides +to assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness towards +the angel in the house." + +There was a pause. + +"I didn't know you could talk so much, Sage," said Irais at length. + +"What would you have women do, then?" asked Minora meekly. +Irais began to beat her foot up and down again,--what did it +matter what Men of Wrath would have us do? "There are not," +continued Minora, blushing, "husbands enough for every one, +and the rest must do something." + +"Certainly," replied the oracle. "Study the art of pleasing +by dress and manner as long as you are of an age to interest us, +and above all, let all women, pretty and plain, married and single, +<178> study the art of cookery. If you are an artist in the kitchen +you will always be esteemed." + +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, +has learned to cook; I seem to have been the only one who was +naughty and wouldn't. + +"Only be careful," he went on, "in studying both arts, +never to forget the great truth that dinner precedes blandishments +and not blandishments dinner. A man must be made comfortable +before he will make love to you; and though it is true that if you +offered him a choice between Spickgans and kisses, he would say +he would take both, yet he would invariably begin with the Spickgans, +and allow the kisses to wait." + +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. +"Your cynicism is disgusting," I said icily. + +"You two are always exceptions to anything I may say," +he said, smiling amiably. + +He stooped and kissed Irais's hand. She is inordinately vain +of her hands, and says her husband married her for their sake, +which I can quite believe. I am glad they are on her and not on Minora, +for if Minora had had them I should have been annoyed. Minora's are bony, +with <179> chilly-looking knuckles, ignored nails, and too much wrist. +I feel very well disposed towards her when my eye falls on them. +She put one forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed too. + +"Did you know," said Irais, seeing the movement, "that it is the custom +here to kiss women's hands?" + +"But only married women's," I added, not desiring her to feel out of it, +"never young girls'." + +She drew it in again. "It is a pretty custom," she said with a sigh; +and pensively inscribed it in her book. + + +January 15th.--The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last year's +horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down to breakfast +this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is expensive, I find, +when it has to be paid for out of one's own private pin-money. The Man of +Wrath does not in the least want roses, or flowering shrubs, or plantations, +or new paths, and therefore, he asks, why should he pay for them? +So he does not and I do, and I have to make up for it by not indulging +all too riotously in new clothes, which is no doubt very chastening. +<180> I certainly prefer buying new rose-trees to new dresses, if I cannot +comfortably have both; and I see a time coming when the passion for my +garden will have taken such a hold on me that I shall not only entirely +cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell those that I already have. +The garden is so big that everything has to be bought wholesale; +and I fear I shall not be able to go on much longer with only one man +and a stork, because the more I plant the more there will be to water +in the inevitable drought, and the watering is a serious consideration +when it means going backwards and forwards all day long to a pump near +the house, with a little water-cart. People living in England, in almost +perpetual mildness and moisture, don't really know what a drought is. +If they have some weeks of cloudless weather, it is generally preceded +and followed by good rains; but we have perhaps an hour's shower every week, +and then comes a month or six weeks' drought. The soil is very light, +and dries so quickly that, after the heaviest thunder-shower, I can walk +over any of my paths in my thin shoes; and to keep the garden even moderately +damp it should pour with rain regularly every day for three hours. +My only means of getting water is <181> to go to the pump near the house, +or to the little stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little +stream dries up too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times +difficult to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. +I possess one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted +with silver birches in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted +between the birches with flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy-- +the soil for pines and acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what +love will do--there are more roses in my garden than any other flower! +Next spring the bare places are to be filled with trees that I have ordered: +pines behind the delicate acacias, and startling mountain-ashes, oaks, +copper-beeches, maples, larches, juniper-trees--was it not Elijah +who sat down to rest under a juniper-tree? I have often wondered +how he managed to get under it. It is a compact little tree, +not more than two to three yards high here, and all closely squeezed +up together. Perhaps they grew more aggressively where he was. +By the time the babies have grown old and disagreeable it will be +very pretty here, and then possibly they won't like it; and, if they +have inherited the Man of Wrath's indifference to gardens, they will let +it run wild and leave it to return to the state in which I found it. +Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to live in it, or to come +to such a lonely place at all, and then of course its fate is sealed. +My only comfort is that husbands don't flourish in the desert, and that +the three will have to wait a long time before enough are found to go round. +Mothers tell me that it is a dreadful business finding one husband; how much +more painful then to have to look for three at once!--the babies are so nearly +the same age that they only just escaped being twins. But I won't look. +I can imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, +I don't think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. +I shall do my best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love +the garden, and out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a spark +of their mother in them, they will want and ask for nothing better. +My hope of success is however exceedingly small, and there is probably +a fearful period in store for me when I shall be taken every day during +the winter to the distant towns to balls--a poor old mother shivering +in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made to <183> start after +an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next morning. +Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go to "partings" +as they call them, the April baby announcing her intention of beginning +to do so when she is twelve. "Are you twelve, Mummy?" she asked. + +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am +trying to find another. It is grievous changing so often-- +in two years I shall have had three--because at each change +a great part of my plants and plans necessarily suffers. +Seeds get lost, seedlings are not pricked out in time, +places already sown are planted with something else, +and there is confusion out of doors and despair in my heart. +But he was to have married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost +and immediately left, and he is going after her as soon as he can, +and meanwhile is wasting visibly away. What she saw was doors +that are locked opening with a great clatter all by themselves +on the hingeside, and then somebody invisible cursed at her. +These phenomena now go by the name of "the ghost." +She asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had +never been in a place where there was a ghost before. +I suggested that she <184> should try and get used to it; +but she thought it would be wasting time, and she looked +so ill that I let her go, and the garden has to suffer. +I don't know why it should be given to cooks to see such +interesting things and withheld from me, but I have had two +others since she left, and they both have seen the ghost. +Minora grows very silent as bed-time approaches, and relents +towards Irais and myself; and, after having shown us all day +how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles are +brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice +anxiously inquired whether Irais is sure she does not object +to sleeping alone. + +"If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company," +she said; "I don't mind at all, I assure you." + +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, +and has told me she would rather sleep with fifty ghosts +than with one Minora. + +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her +parent's bedside I have seen a good deal of the babies; +and it is so nice without a governess that I would put off +engaging another for a year or two, if it were not that I should +in so doing come within the reach of the arm of the <185> law, +which is what every German spends his life in trying to avoid. +The April baby will be six next month, and, after her sixth +birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to receive a visit +from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the state +of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, +all sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, +probably beginning with fines, and going on crescendo to +dungeons if, owing to gaps between governesses and difficulties +in finding the right one, we persisted in our evil courses. +Shades of the prison-house begin to close here upon the growing boy, +and prisons compass the Teuton about on every side all through +life to such an extent that he has to walk very delicately indeed +if he would stay outside them and pay for their maintenance. +Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect to teach +their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, +and are apt to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector +into their homes; but it does not much matter after all, and I +daresay it is very good for us to be worried; indeed, a philosopher +of my acquaintance declares that people who are not regularly +and properly worried are never any good for anything. +In the eye of the law we are all sinners, and every man is held +to be guilty until he has proved that he is innocent. + +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly +trying to get out of their way for several days, she thought it +better to resign herself, and make the best of it by regarding +them as copy, and using them to fill a chapter in her book. +So she took to dogging their footsteps wherever they went, +attended their uprisings and their lyings down, engaged them, +if she could, in intelligent conversation, went with them +into the garden to study their ways when they were sleighing, +drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a burden to them. +This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write +the result with the Man of Wrath's typewriter, borrowed whenever +her notes for any chapter have reached the state of ripeness +necessary for the process she describes as "throwing into form." +She writes everything with a typewriter, even her private letters. + +"Don't forget to put in something about a mother's knee," said Irais; +"you can't write effectively about children without that." <187> + +"Oh, of course I shall mention that," replied Minora. + +"And pink toes," I added. "There are always toes, +and they are never anything but pink." + +"I have that somewhere," said Minora, turning over her notes. + +"But, after all, babies are not a German speciality," said Irais, "and I +don't quite see why you should bring them into a book of German travels. +Elizabeth's babies have each got the fashionable number of arms and legs, +and are exactly the same as English ones." + +"Oh, but they can't be just the same, you know," +said Minora, looking worried. "It must make a difference +living here in this place, and eating such odd things, +and never having a doctor, and never being ill. +Children who have never had measles and those things can't +be quite the same as other children; it must all be in +their systems and can't get out for some reason or other. +And a child brought up on chicken and rice-pudding must be +different to a child that eats Spickgans and liver sausages. +And they are different; I can't tell in what way, but they +certainly are; and I think if I steadily describe <188> them +from the materials I have collected the last three days, +I may perhaps hit on the points of difference." + +"Why bother about points of difference?" asked Irais. +"I should write some little thing, bringing in the usual +parts of the picture, such as knees and toes, and make +it mildly pathetic." + +"But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do," +said Minora plaintively; "I have so little experience of children." + +"Then why write it at all?" asked that sensible person Elizabeth. + +"I have as little experience as you," said Irais, "because I +have no children; but if you don't yearn after startling originality, +nothing is easier than to write bits about them. I believe I could +do a dozen in an hour." + +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, +and scribbled for about five minutes. "There," she said, throwing it +to Minora, "you may have it--pink toes and all complete." + +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: + +"When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at +bed-time my stale and battered soul is filled with awe. +All sorts of vague memories <189> crowd into my mind-- +memories of my own mother and myself--how many years ago!-- +of the sweet helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in +her arms, and undressed, and put in my cot, without being wakened; +of the angels I believed in; of little children coming straight +from heaven, and still being surrounded, so long as they were good, +by the shadow of white wings,--all the dear poetic nonsense learned, +just as my baby is learning it, at her mother's knee. +She has not an idea of the beauty of the charming things +she is told, and stares wide-eyed, with heavenly eyes, +while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come from, +and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. +At two years old she does not understand angels, and does +understand bread and milk; at five she has vague notions +about them, and prefers bread and milk; at ten both bread +and milk and angels have been left behind in the nursery, +and she has already found out that they are luxuries not necessary +to her everyday life. In later years she may be disinclined +to accept truths second-hand, insist on thinking for herself, +be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded traditions, +be untiring in her efforts to <190> live according to a high +moral standard and to be strong, and pure, and good--" + +"Like tea," explained Irais. + +"--yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth +part of the charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, +her first reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother's knees. +I love to come in at bed-time and sit in the window in the +setting sunshine watching the mysteries of her going to bed. +Her mother tubs her, for she is far too precious to be touched +by any nurse, and then she is rolled up in a big bath towel, +and only her little pink toes peep out; and when she is powdered, +and combed, and tied up in her night-dress, and all her curls are +on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt down on her mother's lap, +a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face reflects the quiet +of her mother's face as she goes through her evening prayer for pity +and for peace." + +"How very curious!" said Minora, when she had finished. +"That is exactly what I was going to say." + +"Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; +you can copy that if you like." <191> + +"But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?" I asked. + +"Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch," +she replied; "it will make people really think a man wrote the book. +You know I am going to take a man's name." + +"That is precisely what I imagined," said Irais. +"You will call yourself John Jones, or George Potts, +or some such sternly commonplace name, to emphasise your +uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses, +and no one will be taken in." + +"I really think, Elizabeth," said Irais to me later, +when the click of Minora's typewriter was heard hesitating +in the next room, "that you and I are writing her book for her. +She takes down everything we say. Why does she copy all +that about the baby? I wonder why mothers' knees are supposed +to be touching? I never learned anything at them, did you? +But then in my case they were only stepmother's, and nobody +ever sings their praises." + +"My mother was always at parties," I said; "and the nurse made me +say my prayers in French." + +"And as for tubs and powder," went on Irais, <192> "when I +was a baby such things were not the fashion. There were never +any bathrooms, and no tubs; our faces and hands were washed, +and there was a foot-bath in the room, and in the summer we had +a bath and were put to bed afterwards for fear we might catch cold. +My stepmother didn't worry much; she used to wear pink dresses +all over lace, and the older she got the prettier the dresses got. +When is she going?" + +"Who? Minora? I haven't asked her that." + +"Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. +She has been here an unconscionable time,--it must be nearly three weeks." + +"Yes, she came the same day you did," I said pleasantly. + +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it +is not worse to neglect one's art than one's husband, and her +husband is lying all this time stretched on a bed of sickness, +while she is spending her days so agreeably with me. +She has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or any other business +in the world than just to stay on chatting with me, and reading, +and singing, and laughing at any one there is to laugh at, +and kissing the babies, and tilting with the Man of Wrath. +Naturally I love her--she is so pretty <193> that anybody with eyes +in his head must love her--but too much of anything is bad, +and next month the passages and offices are to be whitewashed, +and people who have ever whitewashed their houses inside know +what nice places they are to live in while it is being done; +and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those succulent +salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. +I shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties +by inquiring every day anxiously after her husband's health. +She is not very fond of him, because he does not run and hold +the door open for her every time she gets up to leave the room; +and though she has asked him to do so, and told him how much +she wishes he would, he still won't. She stayed once in a house +where there was an Englishman, and his nimbleness in regard +to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has +had no peace since, and each time she has to go out of a room +she is reminded of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut +door is to her symbolic of the failure of her married life, +and the very sight of one makes her wonder why she was born; +at least, that is what she told me once, in a burst of confidence. +He is quite a nice, harmless little <194> man, pleasant to talk to, +good-tempered, and full of fun ; but he thinks he is too old +to begin to learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has +that horror of being made better by his wife that distinguishes +so many righteous men, and is shared by the Man of Wrath, +who persists in holding his glass in his left hand at meals, +because if he did not (and I don't believe he particularly +likes doing it) his relations might say that marriage has +improved him, and thus drive the iron into his soul. +This habit occasions an almost daily argument between one +or other of the babies and myself. + +"April, hold your glass in your right hand." + +"But papa doesn't." + +"When you are as old as papa you can do as you like." + +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, +"And only think how strange it would look if everybody held their glasses so." + +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. + + +January 28th.--It is very cold,--fifteen degrees of frost Reaumur, +but perfectly delicious, <195> still, bright weather, and one feels +jolly and energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. +The two young ladies are still here, but the air is so buoyant +that even they don't weigh on me any longer, and besides, they have +both announced their approaching departure, so that after all I +shall get my whitewashing done in peace, and the house will have +on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the spring. + +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a +parting gift to the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, +and sat meekly times innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, +that I am not vain. When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried, +and at once commissioned her to paint hers, so that she may take it +away with her and give it to her husband on his birthday, which happens +to be early in February. Indeed, if it were not for this birthday, +I really think she would have forgotten to go at all; but birthdays are +great and solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by unnoticed, +and always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations +(gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, +and that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), +<196> who stand round a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years +are offered up as a burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted +pink and white candles, stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. +The cake with its candles is the chief feature, and on the table round +it lie the gifts each person present is more or less bound to give. +As my birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as +blotting-books and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer +I should get photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; +but whatever the present may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be +welcomed with the noisiest gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, +and such words as entzuckend, reizend, herrlich, wundervoll, and suss +repeated over and over again, until the unfortunate Geburtstagskind +feels indeed that another year has gone, and that she has grown older, +and wiser, and more tired of folly and of vain repetitions. +A flag is hoisted, and all the morning the rites are celebrated, +the cake eaten, healths drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly shaken off. +The neighbouring parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their wives +count the candles in the cake; the active lady in the next Schlass spares +time to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the Gotha Almanach; +a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief inspector in white +kid gloves who invokes Heaven's blessings on the gracious lady's head; +and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner trying on all the mittens. +In the evening there is a dinner for the relations and the chief local +authorities, with more health-drinking and speechifying, and the next morning, +when I come downstairs thankful to have done with it, I am confronted +by the altar still in its place, cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, +because any hasty removal of it would imply a most lamentable want +of sentiment, deplorable in anybody, but scandalous and disgusting +in a tender female. All birthdays are observed in this fashion, and not +a few wise persons go for a short trip just about the time theirs is due, +and I think I shall imitate them next year; only trips to the country +or seaside in December are not usually pleasant, and if I go to a town +there are sure to be relations in it, and then the cake will spring up +mushroom-like from the teeming soil of their affection. + +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais +and myself are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further +proof were <198> needed, it is furnished by the fact that we both, +in defiance of tradition, scorn this celebration of birthday rites. +Years ago, when first I knew her, and long before we were either +of us married, I sent her a little brass candlestick on her birthday; +and when mine followed a few months later, she sent me a note-book. No +notes were written in it, and on her next birthday I presented it to her; +she thanked me profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came +I received the brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy +the possession of each of these articles, and the present question is +comfortably settled once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. +We never mention this little arrangement except at the proper time, +when we send a letter of fervid thanks. + +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, +and sitting still over the fire out of the question, has been +going on for more than a week. Sleighing and skating have been +our chief occupation, especially skating, which is more than +usually fascinating here, because the place is intersected +by small canals communicating with a lake and the river belonging +to the lake, and as everything is frozen black and hard, +we can skate for miles straight ahead without <199> being obliged +to turn round and come back again,--at all times an annoying, +and even mortifying, proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: +modesty is the only obstacle to my saying the same of myself; +but I may remark that all Germans skate well, for the simple +reason that every year of their lives, for three or four months, +they may do it as much as they like. Minora was astonished +and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and arriving at +the place where tea meets us half an hour after we had finished. +In some places the banks of the canals are so high that only our +heads appear level with the fields, and it is, as Minora noted +in her book, a curious sight to see three female heads skimming +along apparently by themselves, and enjoying it tremendously. +When the banks are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously +over the roughest ploughed fields, with or without legs +according to circumstances. Before we start, I fix on the place +where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and we drive home again; +because skating against the wind is as detestable as skating +with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its blowing +without the smallest regard for our convenience. <200> + +Yesterday, by way of a change, we went for a picnic to +the shores of the Baltic, ice-bound at this season, and utterly +desolate at our nearest point. I have a weakness for picnics, +especially in winter, when the mosquitoes cease from troubling +and the ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many favourite +picnic spots this one on the Baltic is the loveliest and best. +As it is a three-hours' drive, the Man of Wrath is loud in his +lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which means, +as experience has taught him, this particular excursion. +There must be deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; +and when, on waking up, I see these conditions fulfilled, +then it would need some very potent reason to keep me from +having out a sleigh and going off. It is, I admit, a hard day +for the horses; but why have horses if they are not to take +you where you want to go to, and at the time you want to go? +And why should not horses have hard days as well as everybody else? +The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for nature +and frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive +through a forest that does not belong to him ; a single +turnip on his own place is more admirable in his eyes than +the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that ever reared +<201> its snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. +Now observe the superiority of woman, who sees that both +are good, and after having gazed at the pine and been made +happy by its beauty, goes home and placidly eats the turnip. +He went once and only once to this particular place, and made us +feel so small by his blast behaviour that I never invite him now. +It is a beautiful spot, endless forest stretching along the shore +as far as the eye can reach; and after driving through it for miles +you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue of arching trees, +upon the glistening, oily sea, with the orange-coloured +sails of distant fishing-smacks shilling in the sunlight. +Whenever I have been there it has been windless weather, +and the silence so profound that I could hear my pulses beating. +The humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are +the only sounds in summer, and in winter the stillness is +the stillness of death. + +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is +so infested by mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem +most natural, that those of my visitors who have been taken +there for a treat have invariably lost their tempers, and made +the quiet shores ring with their wailing and lamentations. +These despicable but irritating insects don't seem to have anything +to do but to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for any prey +Providence may send them; and as soon as the carriage appears +they rise up in a cloud, and rush to meet us, almost dragging +us out bodily, and never leave us until we drive away again. +The sudden view of the sea from the messy, pine-covered height +directly above it where we picnic; the wonderful stretch +of lonely shore with the forest to the water's edge; +the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness--all is lost upon the picnickers, +and made worse than indifferent to them, by the perpetual +necessity they are under of fighting these horrid creatures. +It is nice being the only person who ever goes there or shows +it to anybody, but if more people went, perhaps the mosquitoes +would be less lean, and hungry, and pleased to see us. +It has, however, the advantage of being a suitable place +to which to take refractory visitors when they have stayed +too long, or left my books out in the garden all night, +or otherwise made their presence a burden too grievous +to be borne; then one fine hot morning when they are all +looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on the Baltic. +I have never known this proposal fail to be <203> greeted +with exclamations of surprise and delight. + +"The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? +How heavenly to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! +The very thought puts new life into one! And how delightful to see +the Baltic! Oh, please take us!" And then I take them. + +But on a brilliant winter's day my conscience is +as clear as the frosty air itself, and yesterday morning +we started off in the gayest of spirits, even Minora being +disposed to laugh immoderately on the least provocation. +Only our eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and +woollen wrappings necessary to our heads if we would come +back with our ears and noses in the same places they were +in when we started, and for the first two miles the mirth +created by each other's strange appearance was uproarious,-- +a fact I mention merely to show what an effect dry, bright, +intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how much better it +is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and sulk. +As we passed through the neighbouring village with cracking +of whip and jingling of bells, heads popped up at the windows +to stare, and the only <204> living thing in the silent, +sunny street was a melancholy fowl with ruffled feathers, +which looked at us reproachfully, as we dashed with so much +energy over the crackling snow. + +"Oh, foolish bird!" Irais called out as we passed; +"you'll be indeed a cold fowl if you stand there motionless, +and every one prefers them hot in weather like this!" + +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid +joke had been made, and before we had done we were out of the village +and in the open country beyond, and could see my house and garden +far away behind, glittering in the sunshine; and in front of us lay +the forest, with its vistas of pines stretching away into infinity, +and a drive through it of fourteen miles before we reached the sea. +It was a hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted forest leading +into fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often before, +and always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the place. +For a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep blue line, +and a cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a narrow strip +of pale yellow sand; right <205> and left the line of sparkling forest; +and we ourselves standing in a world of white and diamond traceries. +The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay on the place like a benediction. + +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, +but she thought this beat it almost. + +"I don't quite see," said Irais in a hushed voice, as though +she were in a holy place,"how the two can be compared." + +"Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course," replied Minora; +after which we turned away and thought we would keep her quiet +by feeding her, so we went back to the sleigh and had the horses +taken out and their cloths put on, and they were walked up and +down a distant glade while we sat in the sleigh and picnicked. +It is a hard day for the horses,--nearly thirty miles there and back +and no stable in the middle; but they are so fat and spoiled that it +cannot do them much harm sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. +I warmed soup in a little apparatus I have for such occasions, +which helped to take the chilliness off the sandwiches,--this is +the only unpleasant part of a winter picnic, the clammy quality of +the provisions just when you most long <206> for something very hot. +Minora let her nose very carefully out of its wrappings, +took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She was nervous +lest it should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add that her +nose is not a bad nose, and might even be pretty on anybody else; +but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in +the angle at which one's nose is held just as in everything else, +and really noses were intended for something besides mere blowing. + +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches +with immense fur and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost +as much fur as anything, and choked exceedingly during the process. +Minora was angry at this, and at last pulled off her glove, +but quickly put it on again. + +"How very unpleasant," she remarked after swallowing a large +piece of fur. + +"It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm," said Irais. + +"Pipes!" echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. + +"I'm afraid I can't help you," I said, as she continued +to choke and splutter; "we are all in the same case, and I +don't know how to alter it." <207> + +"There are such things as forks, I suppose," snapped Minora. + +"That's true," said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; +but of what use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? +So Minora had to continue to eat her gloves. + +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind +the trees and the clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. +The old coachman was given sandwiches and soup, and while he led +the horses up and down with one hand and held his lunch in the other, +we packed up--or, to be correct, I packed, and the others looked +on and gave me valuable advice. + +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was +born on the place, and has driven its occupants for fifty years, +and I am nearly as fond of him as I am of the sun-dial; +indeed, I don't know what I should do without him, so entirely +does he appear to understand and approve of my tastes and wishes. +No drive is too long or difficult for the horses if I want +to take it, no place impossible to reach if I want to go to it, +no weather or roads too bad to prevent my going out if I wish to: +to all my suggestions he responds with the readiest cheerfulness, +and smoothes away all <208> objections raised by the Man of Wrath, +who rewards his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking +of him as an alter Esel. In the summer, on fine evenings, +I love to drive late and alone in the scented forests, +and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit quite still, +listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune +over and over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there +are no nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, +and letting its blessedness descend into my very soul. +The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same tune, +and in the same key of (E flat). + +I don't know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is +peculiar to this particular spot. When they have sung it once, +they clear their throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, +and it is the prettiest little song in the world. How could I +indulge my passion for these drives with their pauses without Peter? +He is so used to them that he stops now at the right moment without +having to be told, and he is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, +with no sign of anything but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. +The Man of Wrath deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, +of mine; but has given up trying <209> to prevent my indulging +them because, while he is deploring in one part of the house, +I have slipped out at a door in the other, and am gone before he can +catch me, and have reached and am lost in the shadows of the forest +by the time he has discovered that I am nowhere to be found. + +The brightness of Peter's perfections are sullied however +by one spot, and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not +only cannot hold the horses in if they don't want to be held in, +but he goes to sleep sometimes on his box if I have him out too +soon after lunch, and has upset me twice within the last year-- +once last winter out of a sleigh, and once this summer, +when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted into the ditch on +one side of the chaussee (German for high road), and the bicycle +was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too into +the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, +and the bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, +except Peter, who never lost his pleasant smile, and looked +so placid that my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth when I +tried to make it scold him. + +"But I should think he ought to have been thoroughly scolded +on an occasion like that," said Minora, to whom I had been telling +this story as <210> we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses +were being put in the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, +whose mild head was visible between the bushes above us. +"Shall we get home before dark?" she asked. + +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very +highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were +creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull brown; +a flight of wild geese passed across the disc of the moon with loud cacklings. + +"Before dark?" echoed Irais, "I should think not. +It is dark now nearly in the forest, and we shall have +the loveliest moonlight drive back." + +"But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes +to sleep drive you," said Minora apprehensively. + +"But he's such an old dear," I said. + +"Yes, yes, no doubt," she replied tastily; ,"but there are wakeful old +dears to be had, and on a box they are preferable." + +Irais laughed. "You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora," she said. + +"He isn't on a box to-day," said I; "and I never knew him to go +to sleep standing up behind us on a sleigh." <211> + +But Minora was not to be appeased, and muttered something about +seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows how alarmed she was, +for it was rude. + +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, +and Irais and I at least were as happy as possible driving back, +with all the glories of the western sky flashing at us every +now and then at the end of a long avenue as we swiftly passed, +and later on, when they had faded, myriads of stars in the narrow +black strip of sky over our heads. It was bitterly cold, +and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to laugh +with us as she had been six hours before. + +"Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?' inquired Irais, +as we got out of the forest on to the chaussee, and the lights +of the village before ours twinkled in the distance. + +"How many degrees do you suppose there are now?" +was Minora's reply to this question. + +"Degrees?--Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold," +cried Irais solicitously. + +"Well, it isn't exactly warm, is it?" said Minora sulkily; +and Irais pinched me. "Well, but think how much colder you would +have been without all that fur you ate for lunch inside you," +she said. <212> + +"And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic," +said I. "Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English person +who has ever been to just this part of it." + +"Isn't there some English poem," said Irais, "about being +the first who ever burst--" + +"'Into that silent sea,'" finished Minora hastily. +"You can't quote that without its context, you know." + +"But I wasn't going to," said Irais meekly; "I only paused to breathe. +I must breathe, or perhaps I might die." + +The lights from my energetic friend's Schloss shone brightly down +upon us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; +she is very proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it +is the only one in the whole district. + +"Do you never go there?" asked Minora, jerking her head +in the direction of the house. + +"Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel +I was in the way if I went often." + +"It would be interesting to see another North German interior," +said Minora; "and I should be obliged if you would take me. + +"But I can't fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl," I protested; +"and we are not at <213> all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking +all my visitors to see her." + +"What do you want to see another interior for?" asked Irais. +"I can tell you what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak +to you, and if you were to ask questions, and began to take notes, +the good lady would stare at you in the frankest amazement, +and think Elizabeth had brought a young lunatic out for an airing. +Everybody is not as patient as Elizabeth," added Irais, anxious to pay +off old scores. + +"I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora," I said, +"but I can't do that." + +"If we went," said Irais, "Elizabeth and I would +be placed with great ceremony on a sofa behind a large, +polished oval table with a crochetmat in the centre-- +it has got a crochet-mat in the centre, hasn't it.?" I nodded. +"And you would sit on one of the four little podgy, buttony, +tasselly red chairs that are ranged on the other side of the table +facing the sofa. They are red, Elizabeth?" Again I nodded. +"The floor is painted yellow, and there is no carpet except +a rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark chocolate colour, +almost black; that is in order that after years of use the dirt +may not show, and <214> the room need not be done up. +Dirt is like wickedness, you see, Miss Minora--its being +there never matters; it is only when it shows so much +as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. +At intervals round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with +lamps on them, and in one corner is a great white cold stove-- +or is it majolica?" she asked, turning to me. + +"No, it is white." + +"There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let +in the air and the sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown +lace curtains under heavy stuff ones as though a whole row of houses +were just opposite, with peering eyes at every window trying to look in, +instead of there only being fields, and trees, and birds. No fire, +no sunlight, no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage +coming up under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds." + +"When did you go there?" asked Minora. + +"Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? +I have been calling there all my life." + +Minora's eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the depths +of her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark eyelashes, +and <215> far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself is fine, +but they are put in all wrong. + +"The only thing you would learn there," went on Irais, "would be +the significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went +there together, I should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, +because it is the place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; +Elizabeth would be invited to seat herself in the left-hand corner, +as next in importance; the hostess would sit near us in an arm-chair; +and you, as a person of no importance whatever, would either be +left to sit where you could, or would be put on a chair facing us, +and with the entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense +social gulf that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. +These sofa corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible +in a way that nothing else could. The world might come to an end, +and create less sensation in doing it, than you would, Miss Minora, +if by any chance you got into the right-hand corner of one. +That you are put on a chair on the other side of the table places +you at once in the scale of precedence, and exactly defines your +social position, or rather your complete want of a social position." +And Irais tilted her nose ever so <216> little heavenwards. + +"Note it," she added, "as the heading of your next chapter." + +"Note what?" asked Minora impatiently. + +"Why,'The Subtle Significance of Sofas', of course," replied Irais. +"If," she continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this suggestion, +"you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues the innocent +would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the distracted mistress +of the house would keep you waiting in the cold room so long while she +changed her dress, that you would begin to fear you were to be left to perish +from want and hunger; and when she did appear, would show by the bitterness +of her welcoming smile the rage that was boiling in her heart." + +"But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing? " + +"What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent-- +pardon my familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs +is very touching in one who is writing a book about them. " + +"Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant," said Minora loftily. + +"Seasons of washing," explained Irais, "are <217> seasons set apart +by the Hausfrau to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, +and while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every other +consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into insignificance, +and no one approaching, or interfering with the mistress of the house during +these days of purification, but at their peril." + +"You Don't Really Mean," Said Minora, "that You Only Wash Your Clothes +Four Times A Year? + +"Yes, I do mean it," replied Irais. + +"Well, I think that is very disgusting," said Minora emphatically. + +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. +"Then you must take care and not marry a German," she said. + +"But what is the object of it?" went on Minora. + +"Why, to clean the linen, I suppose." + +"Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?" + +"It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape +of linen. If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, +as you do in England, you would be put down as a person who only has +just enough to last <218> that length of time, and would be an object +of general contempt." + +"But I should be a clean object," cried Minora, "and my house +would not be full of accumulated dirt." + +We said nothing--there was nothing to be said. + +"It must be a happy land, that England of yours," +Irais remarked after a while with a sigh--a beatific vision no +doubt presenting itself to her mind of a land full of washerwomen +and agile gentlemen darting at door-handles. + +"It is a clean land, at any rate," replied Minora. + +"I don't want to go and live in it," I said--for we were +driving up to the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came +into my mind as I looked up fondly at its dear old west front, +and I felt that what I want is to live and die just here, +and that there never was such a happy woman as Elizabeth. + + +April 18th.--I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying +on its green and flowered petticoat--only its petticoat as yet, +for though the underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, +the trees above are still quite bare. + +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, +so deeply was I engaged in making hot-beds, and having +them sown with petunias, verbenas, and nicotina affinis; +while no less than thirty are dedicated solely to vegetables, +it having been borne in upon me lately that vegetables +must be interesting things to grow, besides possessing +solid virtues not given to flowers, and that I might as +well take the orchard and kitchen garden under my wing. +So I have rushed in with all the zeal of utter inexperience, +and my February evenings were spent poring over gardening books, +and my days in applying the freshly absorbed wisdom. +Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the country? +It was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, +and its mild days enabled me to get on beautifully with +the digging and manuring, and filled my rooms with snowdrops. +The longer I live the greater is my respect and affection +for manure in all its forms, and already, though the year +is so young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been +spent on artificial manure. <220> The Man of Wrath says +he never met a young woman who spent her money that way before; +I remarked that it must be nice to have an original wife; +and he retorted that the word original hardly described me, +and that the word eccentric was the one required. Very well, +I suppose I am eccentric, since even my husband says so; +but if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature +as to result later in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest +lettuce in Prussia, why then he ought to be the first to rise +up and call me blessed. + +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they +are not grown here, and people try and make boiled cucumbers +take their place; but boiled cucumbers are nasty things, +and I don't see why marrows should not do here perfectly well. +These, and primrose-roots, are the English contributions to my garden. +I brought over the roots in a tin box last time I came from England, +and am anxious to see whether they will consent to live here. +Certain it is that they don't exist in the Fatherland, so I can +only conclude the winter kills them, for surely, if such lovely +things would grow, they never would have been overlooked. +Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she <221> reads so many +English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they have +got so mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and Disraelis, +that she longs to see this mysterious political flower, and has made +me promise to telegraph when it appears, and she will come over. +Bur they are not going to do anything this year, and I only hope +those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of flowers. +I am afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. + +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden +and the babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as +the numerous relations staying with her have left,--"which they won't do," +she wrote the other day, "until the first frosts nip them off, +when they will disappear like belated dahlias--double ones of course, +for single dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations. +I have every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and here they have +been ever since my husband's birthday--not the same ones exactly, but I +get so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. +My husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, +and I am left at their mercy. I wish I had crops to <222> go and look at-- +I should be grateful even for one, and would look at it from morning +till night, and quite stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay +at home and have the truth told me by enigmatic aunts. Do you know +my Aunt Bertha? she, in particular, spends her time propounding obscure +questions for my solution. I get so tired and worried trying to guess +the answers, which are always truths supposed to be good for me to hear. +'Why do you wear your hair on your forehead?' she asks,--and that sets me off +wondering why I do wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to know for, +or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer truthfully. +'I am sure I don't know, aunt,' I say meekly, after puzzling over it +for ever so long; 'perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring and ask her?' +And then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly line she says +I have down the middle of my forehead, and that betokens a listless and +discontented disposition. Well, if she knew, what did she ask me for? +Whenever I am with them they ask me riddles like that, and I simply lead +a dog's life. Oh, my dear, relations are like drugs,--useful sometimes, +and even pleasant, if taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully +pernicious on the whole, and the truly wise avoid them." + +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, +in which she thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending +me a bottle of English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; +that it was wonderful stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that it +cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. +Was it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at her? +Was she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was it merely +Minora's idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for bruises, +nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing exercise, +and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she did happen +to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of tumbling +down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly veiled +by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps, +received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; +I had been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, +but the best of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his +own use. <224> + +But why waste a thought on Minora at Easter, +the real beginning of the year in defiance of calendars. +She belongs to the winter that is past, to the darkness +that is over, and has no part or lot in the life I shall lead +for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for joy +that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty +there is in my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! +The whole of this radiant Easter day I have spent out of doors, +sitting at first among the windflowers and celandines, +and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald, +to see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon +was so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up +through the leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, +fat little white clouds floating motionless in the blue. +We had tea on the grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, +and the babies were in bed, and all the little wind-flowers +folded up for the night, I still wandered in the green paths, +my heart full of happiest gratitude. It makes one very humble +to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of beauty and +perfection anonymously lavished, and to think of the infinite +meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we +are if they are <225> not promptly and properly appreciated. +I do sincerely trust that the benediction that is always +awaiting me in my garden may by degrees be more deserved, +and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and cheerfulness, +just like the happy flowers I so much love. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Elizabeth and her German Garden + diff --git a/old/old/lzgdn09.zip b/old/old/lzgdn09.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1267f8a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/lzgdn09.zip diff --git a/old/old/lzgdn10.txt b/old/old/lzgdn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..00a9b6a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/lzgdn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5257 @@ +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Elizabeth and her German Garden* +by "Elizabeth" [Marie Annette Beauchamp] +Cousin of Katherine Mansfield [Beauchamp] + +If you would be willing to proofread this, version lzgdn09 has a +set of page numbers included. + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION + +Originally published in 1898, "Elizabeth and her German Garden" +is the first book by Marie Annette Beauchamp--known all +her life as "Elizabeth". The book, anonymously published, +was an incredible success, going through printing after +printing by several publishers over the next few years. +(I myself own three separate early editions of this book +by different publishers on both sides of the Atlantic.) +The present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated +deluxe MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. + +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer +Katherine Mansfield (whose real name was Kathleen Mansfield +Beauchamp). Born in Australia, Elizabeth was educated in England. +She was reputed to be a fine organist and musician. +At a young age, she captured the heart of a German Count, +was persuaded to marry him, and went to live in Germany. +Over the next years she bore five daughters. After her husband's +death and the decline of the estate, she returned to England. +She was a friend to many of high social standing, including people +such as H. G. Wells (who considered her one of the finest +wits of the day). Some time later she married the brother of +Bertrand Russell; which marriage was a failure and ended in divorce. +Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at the outbreak of the Second +World War, and there died in 1941. + +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name +"Elizabeth von Arnim", author of "The Enchanted April" +which was recently made into a successful film by the same title. +Another of her books, "Mr. Skeffington" was also once made +into a film starring Bette Davis, circa 1940. + +Some of Elizabeth's work is published in modern +editions by Virago and other publishers. Among these are: +"Love", "The Enchanted April", "Caravaners", "Christopher and +Columbus", "The Pastor's Wife", "Mr. Skeffington", "The Solitary +Summer", and "Elizabeth's Adventures in Rugen". Also published +by Virago is her non-autobiography "All the Dogs of My Life"-- +as the title suggests, it is the story not of her life, +but of the lives of the many dogs she owned; though of course +it does touch upon her own experiences. + +In the centennial year of this book's first publication, +I hope that its availability through Project Gutenberg will stir +some renewed interest in Elizabeth and her delightful work. +She is, I would venture, my favorite author; and I hope that soon +she will be one of your favorites. + +R. McGowan +San Jose, April 11 1998. + + +NOTES: The first page of the book contains two musical phrases, +marked in the text below between square brackets []. Since this +is the first Gutenberg release, pagination is retained between angle +brackets <> to facilitate proofreading and correction for subsequent +editions. This is only available in version lzgdn09. This is 10. + + + + + +Elizabeth and her German Garden + + +May 7th.--I love my garden. I am writing in it now in +the late afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes +and the temptation to look at all the glories of the new +green leaves washed half an hour ago in a cold shower. +Two owls are perched near me, and are carrying on a long +conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of nightingales. +The gentleman owl says [[musical notes occur here in the printed +text]], and she answers from her tree a little way off, +[[musical notes]], beautifully assenting to and completing her +lord's remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. +They say the same thing over and over again so emphatically +that I think it must be something nasty about me; but I shall +not let myself be frightened away by the sarcasm of owls. + +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived +in the house, much less in the garden, for twenty-five years, +and it is such a pretty old place that the people who might have +lived here and did not, deliberately preferring the horrors +of a flat in a town, must have belonged to that vast number of eyeless +and earless persons of whom the world seems chiefly composed. +Noseless too, though it does not sound pretty; but the greater +part of my spring happiness is due to the scent of the wet earth +and young leaves. + +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, +for indoors there are servants and furniture) but in quite +different ways, and my spring happiness bears no resemblance +to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more intense, +and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out +in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. +But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the decencies. + +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches +sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white +blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding. +I never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place. +Even across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east, +and right in the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one, +a picture of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky. + +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, +and beyond are great stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, +and where the forests leave off the bare heath begins again; +but the forests are beautiful in their lofty, pink-stemmed vastness, +far overhead the crowns of softest gray-green, and underfoot a bright +green wortleberry carpet, and everywhere the breathless silence; +and the bare heaths are beautiful too, for one can see across them +into eternity almost, and to go out on to them with one's face +towards the setting sun is like going into the very presence of God. + +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of birdcherries and greenery +where I spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray +stone house with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. +The house is very old, and has been added to at various times. +It was a convent before the Thirty Years' War, and the vaulted chapel, +with its brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, is now used as a hall. +Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more than once, +as is duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what was +then the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. +The Lion of the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly +up to his convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, +who were not without convictions of their own, sending them out on to +the wide, empty plain to piteously seek some life to replace the life +of silence here. + +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out +across the plain, with no obstacle in the shape of a hill, +right away to a blue line of distant forest, and on the west +side uninterruptedly to the setting sun--nothing but a green, +rolling plain, with a sharp edge against the sunset. +I love those west windows better than any others, and have +chosen my bedroom on that side of the house so that even times +of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the young woman +who attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties +about a mistress recumbent in an easychair before an open window, +and not to profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. +This girl is grieved at my habit of living almost in the garden, +and all her ideas as to the sort of life a respectable German lady +should lead have got into a sad muddle since she came to me. +The people round about are persuaded that I am, to put it +as kindly as possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the news +has travelled that I spend the day out of doors with a book, +and that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew or cook. +But why cook when you can get some one to cook for you? +And as for sewing, the maids will hem the sheets better and +quicker than I could, and all forms of needlework of the fancy +order are inventions of the evil one for keeping the foolish +from applying their heart to wisdom. + +We had been married five years before it struck us that we +might as well make use of this place by coming down and living +in it. Those five years were spent in a flat in a town, +and during their whole interminable length I was perfectly +miserable and perfectly healthy, which disposes of the ugly +notion that has at times disturbed me that my happiness +here is less due to the garden than to a good digestion. +And while we were wasting our lives there, here was +this dear place with dandelions up to the very door, +all the paths grass-grown and completely effaced, in winter +so lonely, with nobody but the north wind taking the least +notice of it, and in May--in all those five lovely Mays-- +no one to look at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more +wonderful masses of lilacs, everything glowing and blowing, +the virginia creeper madder every year, until at last, +in October, the very roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, +the owls and the squirrels and all the blessed little birds +reigning supreme, and not a living creature ever entering +the empty house except the snakes, which got into the habit during +those silent years of wriggling up the south wall into the rooms +on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the windows. +All that was here,--peace, and happiness, and a reasonable life,-- +and yet it never struck me to come and live in it. +Looking back I am astonished, and can in no way account for +the tardiness of my discovery that here, in this far-away corner, +was my kingdom of heaven. Indeed, so little did it enter +my head to even use the place in summer, that I submitted +to weeks of seaside life with all its horrors every year; +until at last, in the early spring of last year, having come +down for the opening of the village school, and wandering out +afterwards into the bare and desolate garden, I don't know what +smell of wet earth or rotting leaves brought back my childhood +with a rush and all the happy days I had spent in a garden. +Shall I ever forget that day? It was the beginning of my real life, +my coming of age as it were, and entering into my kingdom. +Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, quiet earth; +leafless and sad and lonely enough out there in the damp +and silence, yet there I stood feeling the same rapture of pure +delight in the first breath of spring that I used to as a child, +and the five wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and the world +was full of hope, and I vowed myself then and there to nature, +and have been happy ever since. + +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought +perhaps that it might be as well to look after the place, +consented to live in it at any rate for a time; whereupon followed +six specially blissful weeks from the end of April into June, +during which I was here alone, supposed to be superintending +the painting and papering, but as a matter of fact only going +into the house when the workmen had gone out of it. + +How happy I was! I don't remember any time quite so perfect +since the days when I was too little to do lessons and was +turned out with sugar on my eleven o'clock bread and butter +on to a lawn closely strewn with dandelions and daisies. +The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its charm, +but I love the dandelions and daisies even more passionately +now than then, and never would endure to see them all mown +away if I were not certain that in a day or two they would +be pushing up their little faces again as jauntily as ever. +During those six weeks I lived in a world of dandelions +and delights. The dandelions carpeted the three lawns,-- +they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed +out into meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,-- +and under and among the groups of leafless oaks and beeches were +blue hepaticas, white anemones, violets, and celandines in sheets. +The celandines in particular delighted me with their clean, +happy brightness, so beautifully trim and newly varnished, +as though they too had had the painters at work on them. +Then, when the anemones went, came a few stray periwinkles and +Solomon's Seal, and all the birdcherries blossomed in a burst. +And then, before I had a little got used to the joy of their +flowers against the sky, came the lilacs--masses and masses +of them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees +by the side of walks, and one great continuous bank of them +half a mile long right past the west front of the house, +away down as far as one could see, shining glorious against +a background of firs. When that time came, and when, +before it was over, the acacias all blossomed too, +and four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies flowered +under the south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, +and thankful, and grateful, that I really cannot describe it. +My days seemed to melt away in a dream of pink and purple peace. + +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, +so that on the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge +what my other half calls my _fantaisie_ _dereglee_ as regards meals-- +that is to say, meals so simple that they could be brought out to +the lilacs on a tray; and I lived, I remember, on salad and bread +and tea the whole time, sometimes a very tiny pigeon appearing +at lunch to save me, as the old lady thought, from starvation. +Who but a woman could have stood salad for six weeks, even salad +sanctified by the presence and scent of the most gorgeous lilac masses? +I did, and grew in grace every day, though I have never liked it since. +How often now, oppressed by the necessity of assisting at three +dining-room meals daily, two of which are conducted by the functionaries +held indispensable to a proper maintenance of the family dignity, +and all of which are pervaded by joints of meat, how often do I +think of my salad days, forty in number, and of the blessedness +of being alone as I was then alone! + +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house +was left to emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered +up her rheumatic limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another +part of the house had been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave +the friendly frogs and owls, and with my heart somewhere down in my shoes +lock the door to the garden behind me, and pass through the long series +of echoing south rooms full of shadows and ladders and ghostly pails +of painters' mess, and humming a tune to make myself believe I liked it, +go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the creaking stairs, +down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final rush of panic whisk +into my room and double lock and bolt the door! + +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great +dinner-bell to bed with me so that at least I might be able +to make a noise if frightened in the night, though what good it +would have been I don't know, as there was no one to hear. +The housemaid slept in another little cell opening out of mine, and we +two were the only living creatures in the great empty west wing. +She evidently did not believe in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell +asleep immediately after getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, +"mais je les redoute," as a French lady said, who from her books +appears to have been strongminded. + +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it +comforted me to see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights +were anything but placid, it was all so strange, and there were such +queer creakings and other noises. I used to lie awake for hours, +startled out of a light sleep by the cracking of some board, +and listen to the indifferent snores of the girl in the next room. +In the morning, of course, I was as brave as a lion and much amused +at the cold perspirations of the night before; but even the nights +seem to me now to have been delightful, and myself like those historic +boys who heard a voice in every wind and snatched a fearful joy. +I would gladly shiver through them all over again for the sake of +the beautiful purity of the house, empty of servants and upholstery. + +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful +new papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and +build all sorts of castles in the air about their future and their past. +Would the nuns who had lived in them know their little white-washed +cells again, all gay with delicate flower papers and clean white paint? +And how astonished they would be to see cell No. 14 turned into a bathroom, +with a bath big enough to insure a cleanliness of body equal to their +purity of soul! They would look upon it as a snare of the tempter; +and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked at the blackness +of my nails the day that I began to lose the first whiteness of my soul +by falling in love at fifteen with the parish organist, or rather with +the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and fiery moustache which was all I +ever saw of him, and which I loved to distraction for at least six months; +at the end of which time, going out with my governess one day, +I passed him in the street, and discovered that his unofficial garb +was a frock-coat combined with a turn-down collar and a "bowler" hat, +and never loved him any more. + +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I +had not a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. +Then he appeared suddenly who has a right to appear when and how +he will and rebuked me for never having written, and when I told him +that I had been literally too happy to think of writing, he seemed +to take it as a reflection on himself that I could be happy alone. +I took him round the garden along the new paths I had had made, +and showed him the acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was +the purest selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring +were with me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. +I tried to appease him by offering him the whole of my salad and toast +supper which stood ready at the foot of the little verandah steps when we +came back, but nothing appeased that Man of Wrath, and he said he would +go straight back to the neglected family. So he went; and the remainder +of the precious time was disturbed by twinges of conscience (to which I +am much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump for joy. +I went to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me +to look at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; +I criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day than I +had done in all the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; +but I could not manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your +conscience is clear and your liver in order and the sun is shining? + + +May 10th.--I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening +and this year know very little more, but I have dawnings +of what may be done, and have at least made one great stride-- +from ipomaea to tea-roses. + +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all +round the house, but the principal part is on the south +side and has evidently always been so. The south front +is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one into +the other, and the walls are covered with virginia creeper. +There is a little verandah in the middle, leading by a flight +of rickety wooden steps down into what seems to have been +the only spot in the whole place that was ever cared for. +This is a semicircle cut into the lawn and edged with privet, +and in this semicircle are eleven beds of different sizes +bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, and the sun-dial +is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by me. +These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening +to be seen (except a solitary crocus that came up all by itself +each spring in the grass, not because it wanted to, but because +it could not help it), and these I had sown with ipomaea, +the whole eleven, having found a German gardening book, +according to which ipomaea in vast quantities was the one thing +needful to turn the most hideous desert into a paradise. +Nothing else in that book was recommended with anything like +the same warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity +of seed necessary, I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown +not only in the eleven beds but round nearly every tree, and then +waited in great agitation for the promised paradise to appear. +It did not, and I learned my first lesson. + +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweetpeas which made me +very happy all the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few +hollyhocks under the south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. +But the lilies, after being transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, +for how was I to know it was the way of lilies? And the hollyhocks turned +out to be rather ugly colours, so that my first summer was decorated +and beautified solely by sweet-peas. +At present we are only just beginning to breathe after the bustle +of getting new beds and borders and paths made in time for this summer. +The eleven beds round the sun-dial are filled with roses, +but I see already that I have made mistakes with some. +As I have not a living soul with whom to hold communion on this or +indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is by making mistakes. +All eleven were to have been carpeted with purple pansies, but finding +that I had not enough and that nobody had any to sell me, only six +have got their pansies, the others being sown with dwarf mignonette. +Two of the eleven are filled with Marie van Houtte roses, +two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette Messimy, +one with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, +two with Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind +the sun-dial with three sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), +Duke of Teck, Cheshunt Scarlet, and Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, +I am sure, a mistake, and several of the others are, I think, +but of course I must wait and see, being such an ignorant person. +Then I have had two long beds made in the grass on either side +of the semicircle, each sown with mignonette, and one filled +with Marie van Houtte, and the other with Jules Finger and the Bride; +and in a warm corner under the drawing-room windows is a bed +of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and Comtesse Riza du Parc; +while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north and west +by a group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, +containing Rubens, Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hen. Edith Gifford. +All these roses are dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, +two Madame George Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. +How I long for the day when the tea-roses open their buds! +Never did I look forward so intensely to anything; and every day I +go the rounds, admiring what the dear little things have achieved +in the twentyfour hours in the way of new leaf or increase of +lovely red shoot. + +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south +windows in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot +of which I have sown two long borders of sweetpeas facing the rose beds, +so that my roses may have something almost as sweet as themselves to look +at until the autumn, when everything is to make place for more tea-roses. +The path leading away from this semicircle down the garden is bordered +with China roses, white and pink, with here and there a Persian Yellow. +I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I have misgivings as to the effect +of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, for the Chinas are such wee +little baby things, and the Persian Yellows look as though they intended +to be big bushes. + +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could +in the least understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward +to the flowering of these roses, and not a German gardening book +that does not relegate all tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning +them for life, and depriving them for ever of the breath of God. +It was no doubt because I was so ignorant that I rushed in where Teutonic +angels fear to tread and made my tea-roses face a northern winter; +but they did face it under fir branches and leaves, and not one +has suffered, and they are looking to-day as happy and as determined +to enjoy themselves as any roses, I am sure, in Europe. + +May 14th.--To-day I am writing on the verandah with the +three babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, +and already several of the thirty fingers have been in +the ink-pot and the owners consoled when duty pointed to rebukes. +But who can rebuke such penitent and drooping sunbonnets? +I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores and nimble black legs. + +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, +and the gardener's assistant, are the only people who ever +go into my garden, but then neither are we ever out of it. +The gardener has been here a year and has given me notice +regularly on the first of every month, but up to now has +been induced to stay on. On the first of this month he came +as usual, and with determination written on every feature told +me he intended to go in June, and that nothing should alter +his decision. I don't think he knows much about gardening, +but he can at least dig and water, and some of the things +he sows come up, and some of the plants he plants grow, +besides which he is the most unflaggingly industrious person +I ever saw, and has the great merit of never appearing +to take the faintest interest in what we do in the garden. +So I have tried to keep him on, not knowing what the next one +may be like, and when I asked him what he had to complain +of and he replied "Nothing," I could only conclude +that he has a personal objection to me because of my eccentric +preference for plants in groups rather than plants in lines. +Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts from gardening books I +read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing something new. +Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead of explaining, +to take the book itself out to him and let him have wisdom +at its very source, administering it in doses while he worked. +I quite recognise that this must be annoying, and only my anxiety +not to lose a whole year through some stupid mistake has given +me the courage to do it. I laugh sometimes behind the book +at his disgusted face, and wish we could be photographed, +so that I may be reminded in twenty years' time, when the garden +is a bower of loveliness and I learned in all its ways, +of my first happy struggles and failures. + +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the autumn +into their permanent places, and all through April he went about with a +long piece of string making parallel lines down the borders of beautiful +exactitude and arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a review. +Two long borders were done during my absence one day, and when I +explained that I should like the third to have plants in groups and not +in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural effect with no bare spaces +of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily hopeless than usual; +and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he had planted +two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little lines +of five plants in a row--first five pinks, and next to them five rockets, +and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five rockets, +and so on with different plants of every sort and size down to the end. +When I protested, he said he had only carried out my orders and had +known it would not look well; so I gave in, and the remaining borders +were done after the pattern of the first two, and I will have patience +and see how they look this summer, before digging them up again; +for it becomes beginners to be humble. + +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, +besides being so fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where +you want them and put in your plants exactly as you choose instead +of giving orders that can only be half understood from the moment +you depart from the lines laid down by that long piece of string! +In the first ecstasy of having a garden all my own, and in my +burning impatience to make the waste places blossom like a rose, +I did one warm Sunday in last year's April during the servants' +dinner hour, doubly secure from the gardener by the day and the dinner, +slink out with a spade and a rake and feverishly dig a little +piece of ground and break it up and sow surreptitious ipomaea, +and run back very hot and guilty into the house, and get into a chair +and behind a book and look languid just in time to save my reputation. +And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one hot; but it +is a blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in Paradise +and known what to do with it, we should not have had all that sad +business of the apple. + +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, +babies, birds, and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! +Yet my town acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment, and burying, +and I don't know what besides, and would rend the air with their shrieks +if condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest +above all my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily. +I believe I should always be good if the sun always shone, +and could enjoy myself very well in Siberia on a fine day. +And what can life in town offer in the way of pleasure to equal +the delight of any one of the calm evenings I have had this month +sitting alone at the foot of the verandah steps, with the perfume +of young larches all about, and the May moon hanging low over +the beeches, and the beautiful silence made only more profound +in its peace by the croaking of distant frogs and hooting of owls? +A cockchafer darting by close to my ear with a loud hum sends a shiver +through me, partly of pleasure at the reminder of past summers, +and partly of fear lest he should get caught in my hair. +The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be killed. +I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer +and not crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning +of all the fun. + +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. +My eldest baby, born in April, is five years old, and the youngest, +born in June, is three; so that the discerning will at once +be able to guess the age of the remaining middle or May baby. +While I was stooping over a group of hollyhocks planted on the top +of the only thing in the shape of a hill the garden possesses, +the April baby, who had been sitting pensive on a tree stump +close by, got up suddenly and began to run aimlessly about, +shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. +I stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw +that a whole army of young cows, pasturing in a field next +to the garden, had got through the hedge and were grazing +perilously near my tea-roses and most precious belongings. +The nurse and I managed to chase them away, but not before +they had trampled down a border of pinks and lilies in the +cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed of China roses, +and even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am trying +to persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener +happened to be ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers-- +as Lutheran Germany calls afternoon tea or its equivalent-- +so the nurse filled up the holes as well as she could with mould, +burying the crushed and mangled roses, cheated for ever of their +hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking on dejectedly. +The June baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond +her size and years, seized a stick much bigger than herself +and went after the cows, the cowherd being nowhere to be seen. +She planted herself in front of them brandishing her stick, +and they stood in a row and stared at her in great astonishment; +and she kept them off until one of the men from the farm +arrived with a whip, and having found the cowherd sleeping +peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. +The cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger +than the man who beat him, but he took his punishment +as part of the day's work and made no remark of any sort. +It could not have hurt him much through his leather breeches, +and I think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work +for a strong young man with no brains looking after cows. +Nobody with less imagination than a poet ought to take it up +as a profession. + +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two +with as many hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, +and while we were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I happened +to look up into its mazy green, and there, on a branch quite close to my head, +sat a little baby owl. I got on the seat and caught it easily, for it +could not fly, and how it had reached the branch at all is a mystery. +It is a little round ball of gray fluff, with the quaintest, +wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let it go, +but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present +on a journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often +said how much he would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. +So I put it into a roomy cage and slung it up on a branch near where it +had been sitting, and which cannot be far from its nest and its mother. +We had hardly subsided again to our tea when I saw two more balls +of fluff on the ground in the long grass and scarcely distinguishable +at a little distance from small mole-hills. These were promptly united +to their relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath comes home, +not only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox smiles, +but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take them +from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some day-- +perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. +I put a small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have +tasted water yet unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. +I suppose they get all the liquid they need from the bodies of +the mice and other dainties provided for them by their fond parents. +But the raindrop idea is prettier. + +May 15th.--How cruel it was of me to put those poor little +owls into a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, +and shall never pander to the Man of Wrath's wishes again. +This morning I got up early to see how they were getting on, +and I found the door of the cage wide open and no owls to be seen. +I thought of course that somebody had stolen them-- +some boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. +But looking about I saw one perched high up in the branches of +the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead on the ground. +The third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its nest. +The parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance +they got the door open, and then dragged the little ones out +and up into the tree. The one that is dead must have been blown +off the branch, as it was a windy night and its neck is broken. +There is one happy life less in the garden to-day through +my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm day--just the sort +of weather for young soft things to enjoy and grow in. +The babies are greatly distressed, and are digging a grave, +and preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. + +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, +and running out I breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been +able to give him the owls he has so often said he would like to have, +and how sorry I was they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, +and so on after the voluble manner of women. + +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, "I am +surprised at such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? +She had never done you any harm." + +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced +than ever that he sang true who sang-- + + Two paradises 'twere in one to live in Paradise alone. + + +May 16th.--The garden is the place I go to for refuge +and shelter, not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, +servants to exhort and admonish, furniture, and meals; +but out there blessings crowd round me at every step-- +it is there that I am sorry for the unkindness in me, +for those selfish thoughts that are so much worse than they feel; +it is there that all my sins and silliness are forgiven, +there that I feel protected and at home, and every flower +and weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been +vexed I run out to them for comfort, and when I have been +angry without just cause, it is there that I find absolution. +Did ever a woman have so many friends? And always the same, +always ready to welcome me and fill me with cheerful thoughts. +Happy children of a common Father, why should I, their own sister, +be less content and joyous than they? Even in a thunder storm, +when other people are running into the house, I run out of it. +I do not like thunder storms--they frighten me for hours +before they come, because I always feel them on the way; +but it is odd that I should go for shelter to the garden. +I feel better there, more taken care of, more petted. +When it thunders, the April baby says, "There's lieber Gott scolding +those angels again." And once, when there was a storm in the night, +she complained loudly, and wanted to know why lieber Gott didn't +do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so tight asleep. +They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and English, +adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting +in English words in the middle of a German sentence. +It always reminds me of Justice tempered by Mercy. +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by +the name of the Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground +of innumerable deer who fight there in the autumn evenings, +calling each other out to combat with bayings that ring through +the silence and send agreeable shivers through the lonely listener. +I often walk there in September, late in the evening, and sitting +on a fallen tree listen fascinated to their angry cries. + +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had +never seen such things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. +The Hirschwald is a little open wood of silver birches and springy +turf starred with flowers, and there is a tiny stream meandering +amiably about it and decking itself in June with yellow flags. +I have dreams of having a little cottage built there, +with the daisies up to the door, and no path of any sort-- +just big enough to hold myself and one baby inside and a purple +clematis outside. Two rooms--a bedroom and a kitchen. +How scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! +I know the exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, +so that we should get all the cheerfulness of the morning, +and close to the stream, so that we might wash our plates among the flags. Sometimes, when in the +mood for society, +we would invite the remaining babies to tea and entertain them +with wild strawberries on plates of horse-chestnut leaves; +but no one less innocent and easily pleased than a baby would +be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny cottage-- +indeed, I don't suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. +Wise people want so many things before they can even begin to +enjoy themselves, and I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, +for only being able to offer them that which I love best myself-- +apologetic, and ashamed of being so easily contented. + +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town +(it took us the whole afternoon to get there) the women after +dinner were curious to know how I had endured the winter, +cut off from everybody and snowed up sometimes for weeks. + +"Ah, these husbands!" sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking +her head; "they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don't +care what their sufferings are." + +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady +was a great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful +husband had brought his young wife into the country and had kept +her there, concealing her beauty and accomplishments from the public +in a most cruel manner, and how, after spending a certain number of years +in alternately weeping and producing progeny, she had quite lately run +away with somebody unspeakable--I think it was the footman, or the baker, +or some one of that sort. + +"But I am quite happy," I began, as soon as I could put +in a word. + +"Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it," +and the female potentate patted my hand, but continued gloomily +to shake her head. + +"You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone," +asserted another lady, the wife of a high military authority and not +accustomed to be contradicted. + +"But I am." + +"But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible." + +"But I _am_." + +"Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter." + +"But I don't want to be brought to town." + +"And not let you waste your best years buried." +"But I like being buried." + +"Such solitude is not right." + +"But I'm not solitary." + +"And can come to no good." She was getting quite angry. + +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, +and renewed shaking of heads. + +"I enjoyed the winter immensely," I persisted when they +were a little quieter; "I sleighed and skated, and then +there were the children, and shelves and shelves full of--" +I was going to say books, but stopped. Reading is an occupation +for men; for women it is reprehensible waste of time. +And how could I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the sun +shone on the snow, or of the deep delight of hear-frost days? + +"It is entirely my doing that we have come down here," +I proceeded, "and my husband only did it to please me." + +"Such a good little wife," repeated the patronising potentate, +again patting my hand with an air of understanding all about it, +"really an excellent little wife. But you must not let your husband +have his own way too much, my dear, and take my advice and insist +on his bringing you to town next winter." +And then they fell to talking about their cooks, having settled to their +entire satisfaction that my fate was probably lying in wait for me too, +lurking perhaps at that very moment behind the apparently harmless brass +buttons of the man in the hall with my cloak. + +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction +when we reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the pretty +old house; and when I went into the library, with its four windows open +to the moonlight and the scent, and looked round at the familiar bookshelves, +and could hear no sounds but sounds of peace, and knew that here I might read +or dream or idle exactly as I chose with never a creature to disturb me, +how grateful I felt to the kindly Fate that has brought me here and given me +a heart to understand my own blessedness, and rescued me from a life like +that I had just seen--a life spent with the odours of other people's dinners +in one's nostrils, and the noise of their wrangling servants in one's ears, +and parties and tattle for all amusement. + +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed +when some grand person, examining the details of my home +through her eyeglass, and coolly dissecting all that I +so much prize from the convenient distance of the open window, +has finished up by expressing sympathy with my loneliness, and on +my protesting that I like it, has murmured, "sebr anspruchslos." +Then indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness of my wants; +but only for a moment, and only under the withering influence +of the eyeglass; for, after all, the owner's spirit is the same +spirit as that which dwells in my servants--girls whose one idea +of happiness is to live in a town where there are others of their +sort with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. +The passion for being for ever with one's fellows, and the fear of +being left for a few hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. +I can entertain myself quite well for weeks together, hardly aware, +except for the pervading peace, that I have been alone at all. +Not but what I like to have people staying with me for a few days, +or even for a few weeks, should they be as anspruchslos as I am myself, +and content with simple joys; only, any one who comes here and would +be happy must have something in him; if he be a mere blank creature, +empty of head and heart, he will very probably find it dull. +I should like my house to be often full if I could find people +capable of enjoying themselves. They should be welcomed and sped +with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to confess that, +though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just as much +to see them go. + +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually +longed for some one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. +There has been rain in the night, and the whole garden seems to +be singing--not the untiring birds only, but the vigorous plants, +the happy grass and trees, the lilac bushes--oh, those lilac bushes! +They are all out to-day, and the garden is drenched with the scent. +I have brought in armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every +pot and bowl and tub in the house is filled with purple glory, +and the servants think there is going to be a party and are extra nimble, +and I go from room to room gazing at the sweetness, and the windows +are all flung open so as to join the scent within to the scent without; +and the servants gradually discover that there is no party, +and wonder why the house should be filled with flowers for one woman +by herself, and I long more and more for a kindred spirit-- +it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself--but kindred +spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as well cry for the moon. +It is true that my garden is full of friends, only they are--dumb. + + +June 3rd.--This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that it +requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus delivered +from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, or people +who love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to be deterred +from coming by the roundabout train journey and the long drive at the end. +Not the least of my many blessings is that we have only one neighbour. +If you have to have neighbours at all, it is at least a mercy that there +should be only one; for with people dropping in at all hours and wanting +to talk to you, how are you to get on with your life, I should like to know, +and read your books, and dream your dreams to your satisfaction? +Besides, there is always the certainty that either you or the dropper-in +will say something that would have been better left unsaid, and I have +a holy horror of gossip and mischief-making. A woman's tongue is a +deadly weapon and the most difficult thing in the world to keep in order, +and things slip off it with a facility nothing short of appalling at +the very moment when it ought to be most quiet. In such cases the only +safe course is to talk steadily about cooks and children, and to pray +that the visit may not be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. +Cooks I have found to be the best of all subjects--the most phlegmatic +flush into life at the mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected +with them are experiences common to us all. + +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, +with a whole troop of flaxenhaired little children to keep +them occupied, besides the business of their large estate. +Our intercourse is arranged on lines of the most +beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, and she +returns the call a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner +in the summer, and we ask them to dinner in the winter. +By strictly keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that closer +friendship which is only another name for frequent quarrels. +She is a pattern of what a German country lady should be, +and is not only a pretty woman but an energetic and practical one, +and the combination is, to say the least, effective. +She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the stock, +the butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; +a thousand things get done while most people are fast asleep, +and before lazy folk are well at breakfast she is off in her +pony-carriage to the other farms on the place, to rate the "mamsells," +as the head women are called, to poke into every corner, +lift the lids off the saucepans, count the new-laid eggs, +and box, if necessary, any careless dairymaid's ears. +We are allowed by law to administer "slight corporal punishment" +to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste to decide +what "slight" shall be, and my neighbour really seems to enjoy +using this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. +I would give much to be able to peep through a keyhole and see +the dauntless little lady, terrible in her wrath and dignity, +standing on tiptoe to box the ears of some great strapping +girl big enough to eat her. + +The making of cheese and butter and sausages +_excellently_ well is a work which requires brains, +and is, to my thinking, a very admirable form of activity, +and entirely worthy of the attention of the intelligent. +That my neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident +by the bright alertness of her eyes--eyes that nothing escapes, +and that only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose. +She is a recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries +of sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; +and with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences +from home, her children are patterns of health and neatness, +and of what dear little German children, with white pigtails +and fearless eyes and thick legs, should be. Who shall say +that such a life is sordid and dull and unworthy of a high order +of intelligence? I protest that to me it is a beautiful life, +full of wholesome outdoor work, and with no room for those +listless moments of depression and boredom, and of wondering +what you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a pretty +woman's eyes, and are not unknown even to the most brilliant. +But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try +to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic +and organising variety, but rather of that order which makes +their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry +and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on +a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very +existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, +and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields. +And it would make me perfectly wretched to be confronted +by ears so refractory as to require boxing. + +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it +is on these occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each +individual is, and how far away from his neighbour; and while they talk +(generally about babies, past, present, and to come), I fall to +wondering at the vast and impassable distance that separates one's +own soul from the soul of the person sitting in the next chair. +I am speaking of comparative strangers, people who are forced +to stay a certain time by the eccentricities of trains, +and in whose presence you grope about after common interests +and shrink back into your shell on finding that you have none. +Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute more +benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in the air +and look vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of +wondering who they most take after, generally settling the question +by saying that the May baby, who is the beauty, is like her father, +and that the two more or less plain ones are the image of me, +and this decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is coming, +never fails to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first time. +The babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it +is hard that they should be used as a means of filling up gaps +in conversation, and their features pulled to pieces one by one, +and all their weak points noted and criticised, while they stand +smiling shyly in the operator's face, their very smile drawing forth +comments on the shape of their mouths; but, after all, it does not +occur very often, and they are one of those few interests one has +in common with other people, as everybody seems to have babies. +A garden, I have discovered, is by no means a fruitful topic, and it +is amazing how few persons really love theirs--they all pretend they do, +but you can hear by the very tone of their voice what a lukewarm +affection it is. About June their interest is at its warmest, +nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses; +but on reflection I don't know a single person within twenty miles +who really cares for his garden, or has discovered the treasures +of happiness that are buried in it, and are to be found if sought +for diligently, and if needs be with tears. +It is after these rare calls that I experience the only +moments of depression from which I ever suffer, and then I am angry +at myself, a well-nourished person, for allowing even a single +precious hour of life to be spoil: by anything so indifferent. +That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed enough, +and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably desire-- +on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy +by such abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach +to your neighbour's soul; which is on the face of it foolish, +the probability being that he hasn't got one. + +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, +put them right along the very front of two borders, and I don't +know what his feelings can be now that they are all flowering +and the plants behind are completely hidden; but I have learned +another lesson, and no future gardener shall be allowed +to run riot among my rockets in quite so reckless a fashion. +They are charming things, as delicate in colour as in scent, +and a bowl of them on my writing-table fills the room with fragrance. +Single rows, however, are a mistake; I had masses of them +planted in the grass, and these show how lovely they can be. +A border full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, +must be beautiful; but I don't know how long they last +nor what they look like when they have done flowering. +This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. Was ever +a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? +No doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I +were not forced to learn solely by my failures, and if I +had some kind creature to tell me when to do things. +At present the only flowers in the garden are the rockets, +the pansies in the rose beds, and two groups of azaleas-- +mollis and pontica. The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous; +I only planted them this spring and they almost at once +began to flower, and the sheltered corner they are in looks +as though it were filled with imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. +Orange, lemon, pink in every delicate shade--what they +will be next year and in succeeding years when the bushes +are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. +On gray, dull days the effect is absolutely startling. +Next autumn I shall make a great bank of them in front of a belt +of fir trees in rather a gloomy nook. My tea-roses are covered +with buds which will not open for at least another week, +so I conclude this is not the sort of climate where they +will flower from the very beginning of June to November, +as they are said to do. + +July 11th.--There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday, +five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad +soon after Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took +to going about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, +explaining that he felt safer that way, and we bore it quite patiently, +as becomes civilised beings who respect each other's prejudices, +until one day, when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper-- +and after he bought the revolver my tones in addressing him +were of the mildest, and I quite left off reading to him aloud-- +he turned round, looked me straight in the face for the first time +since he has been here, and said, "Do I look like Graf X- --(a great +local celebrity), or like a monkey?" After which there was nothing +for it but to get him into an asylum as expeditiously as possible. +There was no gardener to be had in his place, and I have only +just succeeded in getting one; so that what with the drought, +and the neglect, and the gardener's madness, and my blunders, +the garden is in a sad condition; but even in a sad condition it +is the dearest place in the world, and all my mistakes only make +me more determined to persevere. + +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. +The rockets have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets: +in other walks of life, have degenerated into sticks; +and nothing else in those borders intends to bloom this summer. +The giant poppies I had planted out in them in April have either +died off or remained quite small, and so have the columbines; +here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly, and that is all. +I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved, or perhaps they were not +watered enough at the time of transplanting; anyhow, those borders +are going to be sown to-morrow with more poppies for next year; +for poppies I will have, whether they like it or not, and they +shall not be touched, only thinned out. + +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I +come out and sit under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, +and see the sunshine on the cornfields away on the plain, +all the disappointment smooths itself out, and it seems +impossible to be sad and discontented when everything +about me is so radiant and kind. + +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in +this shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across +the grass, and listening to the rooks quarrelling in the treetops, I almost +expect to hear English church bells ringing for the afternoon service. +But the church is three miles off, has no bells, and no afternoon service. +Once a fortnight we go to morning prayer at eleven and sit up in a sort +of private box with a room behind, whither we can retire unobserved when +the sermon is too long or our flesh too weak, and hear ourselves being +prayed for by the blackrobed parson. In winter the church is bitterly cold; +it is not heated, and we sit muffled up in more furs than ever we wear out +of doors ; but it would of course be very wicked for the parson to wear furs, +however cold he may be, so he puts on a great many extra coats under +his gown, and, as the winter progresses, swells to a prodigious size. +We know when spring is coming by the reduction in his figure. +The congregation sit at ease while the parson does the praying +for them, and while they are droning the long-drawn-out chorales, +he retires into a little wooden box just big enough to hold him. +He does not come out until he thinks we have sung enough, nor do we stop +until his appearance gives us the signal. I have often thought how dreadful +it would be if he fell ill in his box and left us to go on singing. +I am sure we should never dare to stop, unauthorised by the Church. +I asked him once what he did in there; he looked very shocked at such +a profane question, and made an evasive reply. + +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a +terrible day; but in the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief +and more profound peace, nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; +only the little flowers themselves and the whispering trees. + +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors-- +not stray callers to be got rid of after a due administration +of tea and things you are sorry afterwards that you said, +but people staying in the house and not to be got rid of at all. +All June was lost to me in this way, and it was from first +to last a radiant month of heat and beauty; but a garden +where you meet the people you saw at breakfast, and will see +again at lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy in. +Besides, they had a knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in them just when I longed +to lounge myself; +and they took books out of the library with them, and left them face +downwards on the seats all night to get well drenched with dew, +though they might have known that what is meat for roses is +poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they +had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished +long ago--whereas I don't believe a garden ever is finished. +They have all gone now, thank heaven, except one, so that I +have a little breathing space before others begin to arrive. +It seems that the place interests people, and that there +is a sort of novelty in staying in such a deserted corner of +the world, for they were in a perpetual state of mild amusement +at being here at all. Irais is the only one left. +She is a young woman with a beautiful, refined face, and her +eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly lovable. +At meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites +a bit off, and repeats the process, although providence +(taking my shape) has caused salt-spoons to be placed at +convenient intervals down the table. She lunched to-day on beer, +Schweine-koteletten, and cabbage-salad with caraway seeds in it, and now I hear her through the open +window, +extemporising touching melodies in her charming, cooing voice. +She is thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on the above diet. +What better proof can be needed to establish the superiority +of the Teuton than the fact that after such meals he can produce +such music? Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, but I don't +doubt its utility as a means of encouraging thoughtfulness; +nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so poetically, +any more than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, +and I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. +She is the sweetest singer I have ever heard, and has +a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along. +When she begins, I go and lean out of the window and look +at my little friends out there in the borders while listening +to her music, and feel full of pleasant sadness and regret. +It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to be sad about. + +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, +the others hurrying along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed +for my admiration three brand-new kittens, lean and blind, +that she was carrying in her pinafore, and that had just been +found motherless in the woodshed. + +"Look," she cried breathlessly, "such a much!" + +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once +before this afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself +down on the grass at my feet, to ask about the lieber Gott, it being +Sunday and her pious little nurse's conversation having run, as it seems, +on heaven and angels. + +Her questions about the lieber Gott are better left unrecorded, +and I was relieved when she began about the angels. + +"What do they wear for clothes?" she asked in her German-English. + +"Why, you've seen them in pictures," I answered, +"in beautiful, long dresses, and with big, white wings." +"Feathers?" she asked. + +"I suppose so,--and long dresses, all white and beautiful." + +"Are they girlies?" + +"Girls? Ye--es." + +"Don't boys go into the Himmel?" + +"Yes, of course, if they're good." + +"And then what do _they_ wear?" +"Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose." + +"Dwesses?" + +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me +of making jokes. "What a funny Mummy!" she said, evidently much amused. +She has a fat little laugh that is very infectious. + +"I think," said I, gravely, "you had better go and play +with the other babies." + +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. +I began writing again. + +"Mummy," she said presently. + +"Well?" + +"Where do the angels get their dwesses?" + +I hesitated. "From lieber Gott," I said. + +"Are there shops in the Himmel?" + +"Shops? No." + +"But, then, where does lieber Gott buy their dwesses?" + +"Now run away like a good baby; I'm busy." + +"But you said yesterday, when I asked about lieber Gott, +that you would tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. +Tell me a story about Him." + +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put +down my pencil with a sigh. "Call the others, then." + +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes +one after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. +The April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, +and the other two had to sit on the grass. + +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. +The April baby's eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder +and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in the story-- +the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly listening. +I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and announced +that that was all, when she burst out, "Now I'll tell about it. +Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had plenty of clothes, +and there was no snake, and lieber Gott wasn't angry with them, +and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy for ever +and ever--there now!" + +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. + +"But that's not the story," I said rather helplessly. +"Yes, yes! It's a much nicelier one! Now another." + +"But these stories are true," I said severely; "and it's no use +my telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards." + +"Another! another!" she shrieked, jumping up and down +with redoubled energy, all her silvery curls flying. + +I began about Noah and the flood. + +"Did it rain so badly?" she asked with a face of the deepest +concern and interest. + +"Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks-- --" + +"And was everybody so wet?" + +"Yes--" + +"But why didn't they open their umbwellas?" + +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. + +"I'll tell you the rest another time," I said, putting her off my knee, +greatly relieved; "you must all go to Anna now and have tea." + +"I don't like Anna," remarked the June baby, not having +hitherto opened her lips; "she is a stupid girl." + +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, +for, besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times +anxious not to hurt any one's feelings, they had been brought up +to love and respect their kind little nurse. + +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting +her finger, pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. +"Such a child will never go into the Himmel," she said with +great emphasis, and the air of one who delivers judgment. + + +September 15th.--This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, +and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; +of tea under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; +of wood-fires in the library in the chilly evenings. The babies go +out in the afternoon and blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, +grown big and fat, sit cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; +the Man of Wrath shoots partridges across the distant stubble; +and the summer seems as though it would dream on for ever. +It is hard to believe that in three months we shall probably +be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling about +this month that reminds me of March and the early days of April, +when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden +holds its breath in expectation. There is the same mildness +in the air, and the sky and grass have the same look as then; +but the leaves tell a different tale, and the reddening creeper +on the house is rapidly approaching its last and loveliest glory. + +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, +and the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been +most beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, +each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at +the base to a yellow-white. I have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses +for planting next month, half of which are Viscountess Folkestones, +because the tea-roses have such a way of hanging their little heads +that one has to kneel down to be able to see them well in the dwarf forms-- +not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such perfect beauty, +only it dirties one's clothes. So I am going to put standards down each +side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the flowers on +a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they will stand the +winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so difficult to pack up snugly. +The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have been, as I predicted, a mistake +among the tea-roses; they only flower twice in the season and all +the rest of the time look dull and moping; and then the Persian Yellows +have such an odd smell and so many insects inside them eating them up. +I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to put in their place, as they all come +out next month and are to be grouped in the grass; and the semicircle +being immediately under the windows, besides having the best position +in the place, must be reserved solely for my choicest treasures. +I have had a great many disappointments, but feel as though I were really +beginning to learn. Humility, and the most patient perseverance, +seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and sunshine, and every +failure must be used as a stepping-stone to something better. + +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal +about gardening and has had much practical experience. +When I heard he was coming, I felt I wanted to put my arms right +round my garden and hide it from him; but what was my surprise +and delight when he said, after having gone all over it, "Well, I +think you have done wonders." Dear me, how pleased I was! +It was so entirely unexpected, and such a complete novelty +after the remarks I have been listening to all the summer. +I could have hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, +able to look beyond the result to the intention, and appreciating +the difficulties of every kind that had been in the way. +After that I opened my heart to him, and listened reverently to all +he had to say, and treasured up his kind and encouraging advice, +and wished he could stay here a whole year and help me through +the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, +and he was the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. + +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able +to come to me, while I can at any time fill the house with +visitors about whom I know little and care less. Perhaps, if I +saw more of those absent ones, I would not love them so well-- +at least, that is what I think on wet days when the wind is +howling round the house and all nature is overcome with grief; +and it has actually happened once or twice when great friends +have been staying with me that I have wished, when they left, +I might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose +the fact is, that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, +and here, in the country, we invariably think it our duty +to appear at breakfast. Civilisation has done away with curl-papers, +yet at that hour the soul of the Hausfrau is as tightly screwed +up in them as was ever her grandmother's hair; and though +my body comes down mechanically, having been trained that way +by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of beginning to wake up +for other people till lunch-time, and never does so completely +till it has been taken out of doors and aired in the sunshine. +Who can begin conventional amiability the first thing in the morning? +It is the hour of savage instincts and natural tendencies; +it is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. +I am convinced that the Muses and the Graces never thought +of having breakfast anywhere but in bed. + + +November 11th.--When the gray November weather came, +and hung its soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown +of the ploughed fields and the vivid emerald of the stretches of +winter corn, the heavy stillness weighed my heart down to a forlorn +yearning after the pleasant things of childhood, the petting, +the comforting, the warming faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. +A great need of something to lean on, and a great weariness +of independence and responsibility took possession of my soul; +and looking round for support and comfort in that transitory mood, +the emptiness of the present and the blankness of the future sent +me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I not go +and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; +the place where I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, +so close to heaven, so near to hell, always either up on a cloud of glory, +or down in the depths with the waters of despair closing over my head? +Cousins live in it now, distant cousins, loved with the exact measure +of love usually bestowed on cousins who reign in one's stead; +cousins of practical views, who have dug up the flower-beds and +planted cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the years +since my father's death I have held my head so high that it hurt, +and loftily refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I +should revisit my old home, something in the sad listlessness of +the November days sent my spirit back to old times with a persistency +that would not be set aside, and I woke from my musings surprised +to find myself sick with longing. +It is foolish but natural to quarrel with one's cousins, +and especially foolish and natural when they have done nothing, +and are mere victims of chance. Is it their fault that my not being a boy +placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into at their disposal? +I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me love them more. +"Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!" cried my father, on my arrival into the world-- +he had three of them already, and I was his last hope,--and a dummes +Frauenzimmer I have remained ever since; and that is why for years I +would have no dealings with the cousins in possession, and that is why, +the other day, overcome by the tender influence of the weather, +the purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood +was enough to send all my pride to the winds, and to start me off without +warning and without invitation on my pilgrimage. + +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had +lived in the Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on +the way to Rome. The pilgrims, leaving all their cares at home, +the anxieties of their riches or their debts, the wife that +worried and the children that disturbed, took only their sins +with them, and turning their backs on their obligations, +set out with that sole burden, and perhaps a cheerful heart. +How cheerful my heart would have been, starting on a fine morning, +with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious +blessings of my family, with every step getting farther from +the suffocation of daily duties, out into the wide fresh world, +out into the glorious free world, so poor, so penitent, +and so happy! My dream, even now, is to walk for weeks +with some friend that I love, leisurely wandering from place +to place, with no route arranged and no object in view, +with liberty to go on all day or to linger all day, as we choose; +but the question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, +is one of the rocks on which my plans have been shipwrecked, +and the other is the certain censure of relatives, who, not fond +of walking themselves, and having no taste for noonday naps +under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my plans before they +had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry, +"How very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!" +The relative of five hundred years back would simply have said, +"How holy!" + +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages--indeed, it is evident +that I have it from him--and he encouraged it in me when I was little, +taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a boy. +Often have we been together to the school he was at in Brandenburg, and spent +pleasant days wandering about the old town on the edge of one of those lakes +that lie in a chain in that wide green plain; and often have we been +in Potsdam, where he was quartered as a lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage +including hours in the woods around and in the gardens of Sans Souci, +with the second volume of Carlyle's Frederick under my father's arm; +and often did we spend long summer days at the house in the Mark, at the head +of the same blue chain of lakes, where his mother spent her young years, +and where, though it belonged to cousins, like everything else that was +worth having, we could wander about as we chose, for it was empty, +and sit in the deep windows of rooms where there was no furniture, +and the painted Venuses and cupids on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly +and stretched their futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. +And while we sat and rested, my father told me, as my grandmother +had a hundred times told him, all that had happened in those rooms +in the far-off days when people danced and sang and laughed through life, +and nobody seemed ever to be old or sorry. + +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone's throw of +the great iron gates, with two very old lime trees in front of it, +where we used to lunch on our arrival at a little table spread +with a red and blue check cloth, the lime blossoms dropping into +our soup, and the bees humming in the scented shadows overhead. +I have a picture of the house by my side as I write, done from +the lake in old times, with a boat full of ladies in hoops +and powder in the foreground, and a youth playing a guitar. +The pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the best. + +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories +to tell a little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, +or hung over the stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, +or picked the pale dog-roses in the hedges, or lay in the boat +in a shady reed-grown bay while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off, +were after all only traditions, imparted to me in small doses +from time to time, when his earnest desire not to raise his remarks above the level of dulness +supposed to be wholesome +for Backfische was neutralised by an impulse to share his thoughts +with somebody who would laugh; whereas the place I was bound for on +my latest pilgrimage was filled with living, first-hand memories +of all the enchanted years that lie between two and eighteen. +How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me +the older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since; +and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months ago, +every incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years +is perfectly distinct in my memory. + +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether +cousinly in my behaviour towards the people in possession. +The invitations to revisit the old home had ceased. +The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and had left me alone. +I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so long +since I had had any news. For two days I fought against +the strong desire to go there that had suddenly seized me, +and assured myself that I would not go, that it would +be absurd to go, undignified, sentimental, and silly, +that I did not know them and would be in an awkward position, +and that I was old enough to know better. But who can +foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? +And when does she ever know better? On the third morning I +set out as hopefully as though it were the most natural thing +in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto consistently +neglected cousins, and expect to be received with open arms. + +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. +During the first part, when it was still dark, I glowed +with enthusiasm, with the spirit of adventure, with delight +at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved place again; +and thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to pass +since last I was there. Of what I should say to the cousins, +and of how I should introduce myself into their midst, +I did not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon me, +the unpractical spirit that takes no thought for anything, +but simply wanders along enjoying its own emotions. +It was a quiet, sad morning, and there was a thick mist. +By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got +over my first enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically +examining the changes that had been made in the last ten years. +It was so misty that I could see nothing of the familiar country +from the carriage windows, only the ghosts of pines in the front +row of the forests; but the railway itself was a new departure, +unknown in our day, when we used to drive over ten miles of deep, +sandy forest roads to and from the station, and although most +people would have called it an evident and great improvement, +it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal and energy +of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he should +require more conveniences than my father had found needful? +It was no use my telling myself that in my father's time the era +of light railways had not dawned, and that if it had, we should +have done our utmost to secure one; the thought of my cousin, +stepping into my shoes, and then altering them, was odious to me. +By the time I was walking up the hill from the station I +had got over this feeling too, and had entered a third stage +of wondering uneasily what in the world I should do next. +Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started? +At the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question +in detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. +Where, indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? +It had vanished so completely that I could only suppose that it +must be lunch time, the observations of years having led to the +discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly affrighted +on the approach of lunch, and none fly quicker than courage. +So I ate the lunch I had brought with me, hoping that it was +what I wanted; but it was chilly, made up of sandwiches and pears, +and it had to be eaten under a tree at the edge of a field; +and it was November, and the mist was thicker than ever and very wet-- +the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, +I was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. +Nobody's spirits can keep up under such conditions; +and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, I deplored the headlong +courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm, +dry home where I was appreciated, and had brought me first +to the damp tree in the damp field, and when I had finished +my lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to drag me into +the midst of a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. +Vast sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off. +The sheep dog kept up a perpetual, irritating yap. +In the fog I could hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. +After the fashion of woman directly she is not perfectly warm +and perfectly comfortable, I began to consider the uncertainty +of human life, and to shake my head in gloomy approval as +lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves +to my mind. + +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want +to do anything, to do it in the way consecrated by custom, +more especially if you are a woman. The rattle of a carriage +along the road just behind me, and the fact that I started +and turned suddenly hot, drove this truth home to my soul. +The mist hid me, and the carriage, no doubt full of cousins, +drove on in the direction of the house; but what an absurd +position I was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, +and revealed me lunching in the wet on their property, the cousin +of the short and lofty letters, the unangenehme Elisabeth! +"Die war doch immer verdreht," I could imagine them hastily muttering +to each other, before advancing wreathed in welcoming smiles. +It gave me a great shock, this narrow escape, and I got +on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch +under the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, +asked myself nervously what I proposed to do next. +Should I walk back to the village, go to the Gasthof, write a letter +craving permission to call on my cousins, and wait there till +an answer came? It would be a discreet and sober course to pursue; +the next best thing to having written before leaving home. +But the Gasthof of a north German village is a dreadful place, +and the remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge +once from a thunderstorm was still so vivid that nature +itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if anything, +was growing denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. +What if I gave up all hope of seeing the house, +and went through the little door in the wall at the bottom +of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? +In such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, +without the least risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, +and it was after all the garden that lay nearest my heart. +What a delight it would be to creep into it unobserved, +and revisit all the corners I so well remembered, +and slip out again and get away safely without any need +of explanations, assurances, protestations, displays of affection, +without any need, in a word, of that exhausting form +of conversation, so dear to relations, known as Redensarten! +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine +day I would have gone soberly to the Gasthof and written +the conciliatory letter; but the temptation was too great, +it was altogether irresistible, and in ten minutes I had found +the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and was standing +with a beating heart in the garden of my childhood. + +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of +the same potency as those that ran through me at that moment. +First of all I was trespassing, which is in itself thrilling; +but how much more thrilling when you are trespassing on what +might just as well have been your own ground, on what actually +was for years your own ground, and when you are in deadly +peril of seeing the rightful owners, whom you have never met, +but with whom you have quarrelled, appear round the corner, +and of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness "I +do not think I have the pleasure--?" Then the place was unchanged. +I was standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths +that had always been just there; they curled away on either +side among the shrubs, with the brown tracks of recent footsteps +in the centre of their green stains, just as they did in my day. +The overgrown lilac bushes still met above my head. +The moisture dripped from the same ledge in the wall on +to the sodden leaves beneath, as it had done all through +the afternoons of all those past Novembers. This was the place, +this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to me. +Nobody ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, +and in summer so full of mosquitoes that only a Backfisch +indifferent to spots could have borne it. But it was a place +where I could play unobserved, and where I could walk up +and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the air. +There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, +much frequented by the larger black slug, where I used +to pass glorious afternoons making plans. I was for ever +making plans, and if nothing came of them, what did it matter? +The mere making had been a joy. To me this out-of-the-way +corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious place, +where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant rows, +and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; +for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it +were all enchanted. + +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, +I forgot the existence of the cousins. I could have cried +for joy at being there again. It was the home of my fathers, +the home that would have been mine if I had been a boy, +the home that was mine now by a thousand tender and happy +and miserable associations, of which the people in possession +could not dream. They were tenants, but it was my home. +I threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, +every branch of which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, +and fallen from it, and torn and bruised myself on it uncountable +numbers of times? and I gave it such a hearty kiss that my nose +and chin were smudged into one green stain, and still I did not care. +Far from caring, it filled me with a reckless, Backfisch pleasure +in being dirty, a delicious feeling that I had not had for years. +Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the contents of +the magic bottle, could not have grown smaller more suddenly +than I grew younger the moment I passed through that magic door. +Bad habits cling to us, however, with such persistency that I +did mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub +off the welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed +of doing in the glorious old days; but an artful scent of +violets clinging to the handkerchief brought me to my senses, +and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for scent +of every honest Backfisch, I rolled it up into a ball and flung +it away into the bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment. +"Away with you," I cried, "away with you, symbol of conventionality, +of slavery, of pandering to a desire to please--away with you, +miserable little lace-edged rag!" And so young had I grown +within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. + +As a Backfisch I had never used handkerchiefs-- +the child of nature scorns to blow its nose--though for +decency's sake my governess insisted on giving me a clean +one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. +It was stowed away unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, +where it was gradually pressed into a beautiful compactness +by the other contents, which were knives. After a while, +I remember, the handkerchief being brought to light on +Sundays to make room for a successor, and being manifestly +perfectly clean, we came to an agreement that it should only +be changed on the first and third Sundays in the month, +on condition that I promised to turn it on the other Sundays. +My governess said that the outer folds became soiled +from the mere contact with the other things in my pocket, +and that visitors might catch sight of the soiled side if it +was never turned when I wished to blow my nose in their presence, +and that one had no right to give one's visitors shocks. +"But I never do wish-- --" I began with great earnestness. +"Unsinn," said my governess, cutting me short. + +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, +the profound stillness of the dripping little shrubbery +frightened me. It was so still that I was afraid to move; +so still, that I could count each drop of moisture falling from +the oozing wall; so still, that when I held my breath to listen, +I was deafened by my own heart-beats. I made a step forward +in the direction where the arbour ought to be, and the rustling +and jingling of my clothes terrified me into immobility. The house +was only two hundred yards off; and if any one had been about, +the noise I had already made opening the creaking door and so +foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. +Suppose an inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, +should presently loom through the fog, bearing down upon me? +Suppose Fraulein Wundermacher should pounce upon me suddenly +from behind, coming up noiselessly in her galoshes, +and shatter my castles with her customary triumphant "Fetzt +halte ich dich aber fest!" Why, what was I thinking of? +Fraulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such an enemy +of day-dreams, such a friend of das Praktische, such a lover +of creature comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded +long ago by others, German sometimes, and sometimes English, +and sometimes at intervals French, and they too had all +in their turn vanished, and I was here a solitary ghost. +"Come, Elizabeth," said I to myself impatiently, "are you actually +growing sentimental over your governesses? If you think you +are a ghost, be glad at least that you are a solitary one. +Would you like the ghosts of all those poor women you +tormented to rise up now in this gloomy place against you? +And do you intend to stand here till you are caught?" +And thus exhorting myself to action, and recognising how great +was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down the little path +leading to the arbour and the principal part of the garden, +going, it is true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened +by the rustling of my petticoats, but determined to see what I +had come to see and not to be scared away by phantoms. + +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the +petticoats of my youth, so short, so silent, and so woollen! +And how convenient the canvas shoes were with the india rubber soles, +for creeping about without making a sound! Thanks to them I +could always run swiftly and unheard into my hiding-places, +and stay there listening to the garden resounding with cries +of "Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come in at once to your lessons!" +Or, at a different period, "Ou etes-vous donc, petite sotte?" +Or at yet another period, "Warte nur, wenn ich dich erst habe!" +As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fraulein Wundermacher, +a person of resource, who discovered that all she needed for my +successful circumvention was galoshes. She purchased a pair, +wasted no breath calling me, and would come up silently, +as I stood lapped in a false security lost in the contemplation +of a squirrel or a robin, and seize me by the shoulders +from behind, to the grievous unhinging of my nerves. +Stealing along in the fog, I looked back uneasily once +or twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could +hardly be reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate +twists and curls that compose what my maid calls my Frisur, +and that mark the gulf lying between the present and the past; +for it had happened once or twice, awful to relate and to remember, +that Fraulein Wundermacher, sooner than let me slip through +her fingers, had actually caught me by the long plait of hair +to whose other end I was attached and whose English name +I had been told was pigtail, just at the instant when I +was springing away from her into the bushes; and so had led +me home triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, +and muttering with a broad smile of special satisfaction, +"Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht entschlupfen!" +Fraulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must have been +a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. +But I wished at that moment that she would not haunt me +so persistently, and that I could get rid of the feeling that +she was just behind in her galoshes, with her hand stretched +out to seize me. +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started +back with my heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather's +stern eyes shining in the darkness. It was evident that my anxiety +lest the cousins should catch me had quite upset my nerves, +for I am not by nature inclined to see eyes where eyes are not. +"Don't be foolish, Elizabeth," murmured my soul in rather +a faint voice, "go in, and make sure." "But I don't like going +in and making sure," I replied. I did go in, however, with a +sufficient show of courage, and fortunately the eyes vanished. +What I should have done if they had not I am altogether unable to imagine. +Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime and fear at night, +but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The arbour had +fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of mouldiness. +My grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, +it enjoyed a period of prosperity before being left to the ravages +of slugs and children, when he came down every afternoon in summer +and drank his coffee there and read his Kreuzzeitung and dozed, +while the rest of us went about on tiptoe, and only the birds dared sing. +Even the mosquitoes that infested the place were too much in awe +of him to sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I naturally +concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my memory +skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was exclusively his. +Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I felt how well I +knew him now from the impressions he made then on my child's mind, +though I was not conscious of them for more than twenty years. +Nobody told me about him, and he died when I was six, and yet within +the last year or two, that strange Indian summer of remembrance +that comes to us in the leisured times when the children have been +born and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. +It is rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially +for the parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though +children may not understand what is said and done before them, +and have no interest in it at the time, and though they may forget +it at once and for years, yet these things that they have seen +and heard and not noticed have after all impressed themselves +for ever on their minds, and when they are men and women come +crowding back with surprising and often painful distinctness, +and away frisk all the cherished little illusions in flocks. + +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. +He never petted, and he often frowned, and such people are +generally reverenced. Besides, he was a just man, everybody said; +a just man who might have been a great man if he had chosen, +and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory. +That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof +of his greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in +the vulgar sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy +and potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still +did nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. +People must believe in somebody, and having pinned their +faith on my grandfather in the promising years that lie +round thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there. +He pervaded our family life till my sixth year, and saw to it +that we all behaved ourselves, and then he died, and we +were glad that he should be in heaven. He was a good German +(and when Germans are good they are very good) who kept +the commandments, voted for the Government, grew prize potatoes +and bred innumerable sheep, drove to Berlin once a year with +the wool in a procession of waggons behind him and sold it +at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a few days there, +and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as often +as possible, helped his friends, punished his children, +read his Bible, said his prayers, and was genuinely astonished +when his wife had the affectation to die of a broken heart. +I cannot pretend to explain this conduct. She ought, of course, +to have been happy in the possession of so good a man; +but good men are sometimes oppressive, and to have one +in the house with you and to live in the daily glare of his +goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him +seven sons and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother +died in the way described, and afforded, said my grandfather, +another and a very curious proof of the impossibility of ever +being sure of your ground with women. The incident faded +more quickly from his mind than it might otherwise have done +for its having occurred simultaneously with the production +of a new kind of potato, of which he was justly proud. +He called it Trost in Trauer, and quoted the text of Scripture +Auge um Auge, Zabn um Zahn, after which he did not +again allude to his wife's decease. In his last years, +when my father managed the estate, and he only lived with us +and criticised, he came to have the reputation of an oracle. +The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of +any important phase in their lives, and he received them +in this very arbour, administering eloquent and minute +advice in the deep voice that rolled round the shrubbery +and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as I played. +Sitting among the bushes playing muffled games for fear +of disturbing him, I supposed he must be reading aloud, +so unbroken was the monotony of that majestic roll. +The young men used to come out again bathed in perspiration, +much stung by mosquitoes, and looking bewildered; and when they had +got over the impression made by my grandfather's speech and presence, +no doubt forgot all he had said with wholesome quickness, +and set themselves to the interesting and necessary work of gaining +their own experience. Once, indeed, a dreadful thing happened, +whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end to the long +and close friendship between us and our nearest neighbour. +His son was brought to the arbour and left there in the usual way, +and either he must have happened on the critical +half hour after the coffee and before the Kreuzzeitung, +when my grandfather was accustomed to sleep, or he was more +courageous than the others and tried to talk, for very shortly, +playing as usual near at hand, I heard my grandfather's voice, +raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and quake, saying +with deliberate anger, "Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des Satans!" +Which was all the advice this particular young man got, +and which he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, +and though his face was very pale, there was an odd twist +about the corners of his mouth that reassured me. + +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather's life, +for almost immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he +need have done because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with him, +in the face of his doctor's warning that if he did he would surely die. +"What! am I to be conquered by crabs?" he demanded indignantly of the doctor; +for apart from loving them with all his heart he had never yet been conquered +by anything." Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal--do not, I pray you, +try it again," replied the doctor. But my grandfather ordered crabs that +very night for supper, and went in to table with the shining eyes of one +who is determined to conquer or die, and the crabs conquered, and he died. +"He was a just man," said the neighbours, except that nearest neighbour, +formerly his best friend, "and might have been a great one had he so chosen." +And they buried him with profound respect, and the sunshine came into our +home life with a burst, and the birds were not the only creatures that sang, +and the arbour, from having been a temple of Delphic utterances, sank into +a home for slugs. + +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable +ultimate triumph of the insignificant and small over the important +and vast, illustrated in this instance by the easy substitution +in the arbour of slugs for grandfathers, I went slowly round +the next bend of the path, and came to the broad walk along +the south side of the high wall dividing the flower garden +from the kitchen garden, in which sheltered position my father +had had his choicest flowers. Here the cousins had been at work, +and all the climbing roses that clothed the wall with beauty +were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed +up at proper intervals, reigned in their stead. +Evidently the cousins knew the value of this warm aspect, +for in the border beneath, filled in my father's time in this +month of November with the wallflowers that were to perfume +the walk in spring, there was a thick crop of--I stooped down close +to make sure--yes, a thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled +with tears at the sight of those radishes, and it is probably +the only occasion on record on which radishes have made anybody cry. +My dear father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn +passionately loved this particular border, and spent the spare +moments of a busy life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. +He had no time himself for a more near acquaintance with the +delights of gardening than directing what plants were to be used, +but found rest from his daily work strolling up and down here, +or sitting smoking as close to the flowers as possible. +"It is the Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest +Refreshment to the Spirits of Man," he would quote +(for he read other things besides the Kreuzzeitung), looking +round with satisfaction on reaching this fragrant haven after +a hot day in the fields. Well, the cousins did not think so. +Less fanciful, and more sensible as they probably would have said, their position plainly was that +you cannot eat flowers. +Their spirits required no refreshment, but their bodies needed much, +and therefore radishes were more precious than wallflowers. +Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they were +grown in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners +and old cucumber frames, and would never have been allowed +to come among the flowers. And only because I was not a boy +here they were profaning the ground that used to be so beautiful. +Oh, it was a terrible misfortune not to have been a boy! +And how sad and lonely it was, after all, in this ghostly garden. +The radish bed and what it symbolised had turned my first joy +into grief. This walk and border me too much of my father reminded, +and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he had taught me, +and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once during +all the years we lived together had we been of different opinions +and fallen out, and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. +I was four years old, and demanded one Sunday to be taken +to church. My father said no, for I had never been to church, +and the German service is long and exhausting. I implored. +He again said no. I implored again, and showed such a +pious disposition, and so earnest a determination to behave well, +that he gave in, and we went off very happily hand in hand. +"Now mind, Elizabeth," he said, turning to me at the church door, +"there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted +on being brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end." +"Oh, yes, oh, yes," I promised eagerly, and went in filled +with holy fire. The shortness of my legs, hanging helplessly +for two hours midway between the seat and the floor, +was the weapon chosen by Satan for my destruction. +In German churches you do not kneel, and seldom stand, but sit +nearly the whole time, praying and singing in great comfort. +If you are four years old, however, this unchanged position +soon becomes one of torture. Unknown and dreadful things +go on in your legs, strange prickings and tinglings and +dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying numbness, when you +think they must have dropped off but are afraid to look, +then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. +I thought I must be very ill, for I had never known my legs +like that before. My father sitting beside me was engrossed +in the singing of a chorale that evidently had no end, +each verse finished with a long-drawn-out hallelujah, +after which the organ played by itself for a hundred years-- +by the organist's watch, which was wrong, two minutes exactly-- +and then another verse began. My father, being the patron of +the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon +with exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little +church was on our pew, and at first I tried to imitate him; +but the behaviour of my legs became so alarming that after vainly +casting imploring glances at him and seeing that he continued +his singing unmoved, I put out my hand and pulled his sleeve. + +"Hal-le-lu-jah," sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low +voice without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly moving, +and his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the organist, +who was also the postman, should have finished his solo, "Did I not +tell thee to sit still, Elizabeth?" "Yes, but-- --" "Then do it." +"But I want to go home." + +"Unsinn." And the next verse beginning, my father +sang louder than ever. What could I do? Should I cry? +I began to be afraid I was going to die on that chair,so +extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. What could my +father do to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of small +children I felt that he could not put me in the corner in church, +nor would he whip me in public, and that with the whole village +looking on, he was helpless, and would have to give in. +Therefore I tugged his sleeve again and more peremptorily, +and prepared to demand my immediate removal in a loud voice. +But my father was ready for me. Without interrupting his singing, +or altering his devout expression, he put his hand slowly down +and gave me a hard pinch--not a playful pinch, but a good hard +unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, +and then went on serenely to the next hallelujah. +For a moment I was petrified with astonishment. +Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, adorer, and friend? +Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a nicely stretched, +tight skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I opened my mouth +to shriek in earnest, when my father's clear whisper fell on my ear, +each word distinct and not to be misunderstood, his eyes as before +gazing meditatively into space, and his lips hardly moving, +"Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du platzt." +And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum-- + +"Will Satan mich verschlingen, +So lass die Engel singen + Hallelujah!" + +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been +my willing slave, and after that I was his. + +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories +to the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner +of which my own little garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood +still a moment before going through, to hold my breath and listen. +The silence was as profound as before. The place seemed deserted; +and I should have thought the house empty and shut up but for the carefully +tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green of the path. +They were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine +a specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow +sitting on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in my +life jumped, and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my nerves +were all to pieces, for I gathered up my skirts and fled through +the door as though a whole army of ghosts and cousins were at my heels, +nor did I stop till I had reached the remote corner where my garden was. +"Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?" asked the mocking sprite that calls +itself my soul: but I was too much out of breath to answer. + +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated +from the main garden and the house by the wall, and shut in on +the north side by an orchard, and it was to the last degree +unlikely that any one would come there on such an afternoon. +This plot of ground, turned now as I saw into a rockery, +had been the scene of my most untiring labours. Into the cold +earth of this north border on which the sun never shone I had +dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been spent +on it, and as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, +in a fatal hour I had borrowed from Fraulein Wundermacher, +selling her my independence, passing utterly into her power, +forced as a result till my next birthday should come round +to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner in her company, +against which my very soul revolted. And after all, +nothing came up. The labour of digging and watering, +the anxious zeal with which I pounced on weeds, the poring +over gardening books, the plans made as I sat on the little +seat in the middle gazing admiringly and with the eye of faith +on the trim surface so soon to be gemmed with a thousand flowers, +the reckless expenditure of pfennings, the humiliation of my +position in regard to Fraulein Wundermacher,--all, all had +been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. +The gardener who reigned supreme in those days had given +me this big piece for that sole reason, because he could +do nothing with it himself. He was no doubt of opinion +that it was quite good enough for a child to experiment upon, +and went his way, when I had thanked him with a profuseness +of gratitude I still remember, with an unmoved countenance. +For more than a year I worked and waited, and watched the career +of the flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled feelings. +The orchard was only a few yards away, and yet, although my +garden was full of manure, and water, and attentions that were +never bestowed on the orchard, all it could show and ever +did show were a few unhappy beginnings of growth that either remained stationary and did not achieve +flowers, +or dwindled down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked +the gardener if he could explain these signs and wonders, +but he was a busy man with no time for answering questions, +and told me shortly that gardening was not learned in a day. +How well I remember that afternoon, and the very shape of +the lazy clouds, and the smell of spring things, and myself +going away abashed and sitting on the shaky bench in my domain +and wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made +the difference between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. +The fruit trees, far enough away from the wall to be beyond +the reach of its cold shade, were tossing their flower-laden heads +in the sunshine in a carelessly well-satisfied fashion that filled +my heart with envy. There was a rise in the field behind them, +and at the foot of its protecting slope they luxuriated +in the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. +It was May, and my heart bled at the thought of the tulips +I had put in in November, and that I had never seen since. +The whole of the rest of the garden was on fire with tulips; +behind me, on the other side of the wall, were rows and rows +of them,--cups of translucent loveliness, a jewelled +ring flung right round the lawn. But what was there not on +the other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew +and flowered exactly as my gardening books said they should do; +and in front of me, in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever +troubled about or cultivated or noticed throve joyously beneath +the trees,--daffodils thrusting their spears through the grass, +crocuses peeping out inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their +small cold faces when the first shivering spring days came. +Only my piece that I so loved was perpetually ugly and empty. +And I sat in it thinking of these things on that radiant day, +and wept aloud. + +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me +busily digging, and noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps +by the difference between my garden and the profusion of splendour +all around, paused with his barrow on the path in front of me, +and remarked that nobody could expect to get blood out of a stone. +The apparent irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, +the bitter tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, +and harangued me from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips and blood +and stones till my tears all +dried up again and I listened attentively, for the conclusion to be +drawn from his remarks was plainly that I had been shamefully taken +in by the head gardener, who was an unprincipled person thenceforward +to be for ever mistrusted and shunned. Standing on the path from +which the kindly apprentice had expounded his proverb, this scene +rose before me as clearly as though it had taken place that very day; +but how different everything looked, and how it had shrunk! +Was this the wide orchard that had seemed to stretch away, +it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of heaven? +I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a certain +time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up +my mind that on that Day the heavenly host would enter the world +by that very field, coming down the slope in shining ranks, +treading the daffodils under foot, filling the orchard with their songs +of exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from among the goats. +Of course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head gardener goats, +so that the results could not fail to be in every way satisfactory. +But looking up at the slope and remembering my visions, +I laughed at the smallness of the field I had supposed would +hold all heaven. + +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my +garden was occupied by a rockery, and the orchard grass with all +its treasures had been dug up, and the spaces between the trees +planted with currant bushes and celery in admirable rows; +so that no future little cousins will be able to dream of celestial +hosts coming towards them across the fields of daffodils, +and will perhaps be the better for being free from visions +of the kind, for as I grew older, uncomfortable doubts laid +hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim uncertainties as to +the exact ultimate position of the gardener and the governess, +anxious questionings as to how it would be if it were they +who turned out after all to be sheep, and I who--? For that we +all three might be gathered into the same fold at the last never, +in those days, struck me as possible, and if it had I should +not have liked it. + +"Now what sort of person can that be," I asked myself, +shaking my head, as I contemplated the changes before me, +"who could put a rockery among vegetables and currant bushes? +A rockery, of all things in the gardening world, +needs consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier to make +mistakes in forming a rockery than in any other garden scheme. +Either it is a great success, or it is great failure; either it +is very charming, or it is very absurd. There is no state +between the sublime and the ridiculous possible in a rockery." +I stood shaking my head disapprovingly at the rockery before me, +lost in these reflections, when a sudden quick pattering of feet +coming along in a great hurry made me turn round with a start, +just in time to receive the shock of a body tumbling out +of the mist and knocking violently against me. + +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. + +"Hullo!" said the little girl in excellent English; +and then we stared at each other in astonishment. + +"I thought you were Miss Robinson," said the little girl, +offering no apology for having nearly knocked me down. +"Who are you?" + +"Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?" I repeated, my eyes fixed on +the little girl's face, and a host of memories stirring within me. +"Why, didn't she marry a missionary, and go out to some place +where they ate him?" + +The little girl stared harder. "Ate him? Marry? What, has she been +married all this time to somebody who's been eaten and never let on? +Oh, I say, what a game!" And she threw back her head and laughed till +the garden rang again. + +"O hush, you dreadful little girl!" I implored, catching her +by the arm, and terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. +"Don't make that horrid noise--we are certain to be caught if you +don't stop-- --" + +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut +her mouth with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot buttons, +came still further out of her head. "Caught?" she said eagerly. +"What, are you afraid of being caught too? Well, this is a game!" +And with her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat she capered +in front of me in the excess of her enjoyment, reminding me of a very fat +black lamb frisking round the dazed and passive sheep its mother. + +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to +the gate at the end of the garden as quickly as possible, +and I began to move away in that direction. The little girl at once +stopped capering and planted herself squarely in front of me. +"Who are you?" she said, examining me from my hat to my boots +with the keenest interest. + +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, +and, trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. + +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, +was there before me. + +"Who are you?" she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. +" Oh, I--I'm a pilgrim," I said in desperation. + +"A pilgrim!" echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, +and while she was struck I slipped past her and began +to walk quickly towards the door in the wall. "A pilgrim!" +said the little girl, again, keeping close beside me, +and looking me up and down attentively. "I don't like pilgrims. +Aren't they people who are always walking about, and have things +the matter with their feet? Have you got anything the matter +with your feet?" + +"Certainly not," I replied indignantly, walking still faster. +"And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don't either, do you?" + +"Not wash? Oh, I'm afraid you are a very badly brought-up +little girl--oh, leave me alone--I must run--" + +"So must I," said the little girl, cheerfully, "for Miss Robinson +must be close behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you." +And she started running by my side. + +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings +to my feet, and, casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was +but little left, to the winds, I fairly flew down the path. +The little girl was not to be outrun, and though she panted +and turned weird colours, kept by my side and even talked. +Oh, I was tired, tired in body and mind, tired by the different shocks +I had received, tired by the journey, tired by the want of food; +and here I was being forced to run because this very naughty +little girl chose to hide instead of going in to her lessons. + +"I say--this is jolly--" she jerked out. + +"But why need we run to the same place?" I breathlessly asked, +in the vain hope of getting rid of her. +"Oh, yes--that's just--the fun. We'd get on--together--you and I--" + +"No, no," said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. + +"I can't stand washing--either--it's awful--in winter-- +and makes one have--chaps." + +"But I don't mind it in the least," I protested faintly, +not having any energy left. + +"Oh, I say!" said the little girl, looking at my face, +and making the sound known as a guffaw. The familiarity +of this little girl was wholly revolting. + +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past +the radishes, and were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience +how easy it was to hide in the tangle of little paths, and stopped +a moment to look round and listen. The little girl opened her +mouth to speak. With great presence of mind I instantly put my +muff in front of it and held it there tight, while I listened. +Dead silence, except for the laboured breathing and struggles +of the little girl. + +"I don't hear a sound," I whispered, letting her go again. +"Now what did you want to say?" I added, eyeing her severely. + +"I wanted to say," she panted, "that it's no good pretending you +wash with a nose like that." + +"A nose like that! A nose like what?" I exclaimed, +greatly offended; and though I put up my hand and very tenderly +and carefully felt it, I could find no difference in it. +"I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must have a wretched life," +I said, in tones of deep disgust. + +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying +her compliments. "It's all green and brown," she said, pointing. +"Is it always like that?" + +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, +and the enraptured kiss it had received, and blushed. + +"Won't it come off?" persisted the little girl. + +"Of course it will come off," I answered, frowning. + +"Why don't you rub it off? " + +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, +and blushed again. + +"Please lend me your handkerchief," I said humbly, +"I--I have lost mine." + +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then +a handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was produced. +I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, +intensely interested, watching the operation and giving me advice. +"There--it's all right now--a little more on the right--there-- +now it's all off." + +"Are you sure? No green left?" I anxiously asked. + +"No, it's red all over now," she replied cheerfully. +"Let me get home," thought I, very much upset by this information, +"let me get home to my dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept +my nose as an example of what a nose should be, and whatever +its colour think it beautiful." And thrusting the handkerchief +back into the little girl's hands, I hurried away down the path. +She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds for it was +of the size of a small sheet, and then came running after me. +"Where are you going?" she asked surprised, as I turned down the path +leading to the gate. + +"Through this gate," I replied with decision. + +"But you mustn't--we're not allowed to go through there-- --" + +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at +the words not allowed my hand dropped of itself from the latch; +and at that instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist +struck me rigid. + +"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" called the voice, "Come in at once +to your lessons--Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" + +"It's Miss Robinson," whispered the little girl, +twinkling with excitement; then, catching sight of my face, +she said once more with eager insistence, "Who are you?" + +"Oh, I'm a ghost!" I cried with conviction, pressing my hands +to my forehead and looking round fearfully. + +"Pooh," said the little girl. + +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking +of approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I +pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, +and fled out and away down the wide, misty fields. + +The Gotha Almanach says that the reigning cousin married +the daughter of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, +and that in 1886 their only child was born, Elizabeth. +November 20th.--Last night we had ten degrees of frost +(Fahrenheit), and I went out the first thing this morning to see +what had become of the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake +and quite cheerful--covered with rime it is true, but anything +but black and shrivelled. Even those in boxes on each side +of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and full of buds, +and one in particular, a Bouquet d'Or, is a mass of buds, +and would flower if it could get the least encouragement. +I am beginning to think that the tenderness of tea-roses +is much exaggerated, and am certainly very glad I +had the courage to try them in this northern garden. +But I must not fly too boldly in the face of Providence, +and have ordered those in the boxes to be taken into the greenhouse +for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d'Or, in a sunny place +near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. +The greenhouse is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature +just above freezing, and is reserved entirely for such plants +as cannot stand the very coldest part of the winter out of doors. +I don't use it for growing anything, because I don't love things +that will only bear the garden for three or four months in the year +and require coaxing and petting for the rest of it. +Give me a garden full of strong, healthy creatures, able to stand +roughness and cold without dismally giving in and dying. +I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely +flowers to be had by heat and constant coaxing, but then +for each of these there are fifty others still lovelier that +will gratefully grow in God's wholesome air and are blessed +in return with a far greater intensity of scent and colour. + +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds +into order and planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward +to next summer with more hope than ever in spite of my many failures. +I wish the years would pass quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! +The Persian Yellows have gone into their new quarters, and their place is +occupied by the tearose Safrano; all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies +sown in July and transplanted in October, each bed having a separate colour. +The purple ones are the most charming and go well with every rose, +but I have white ones with Laurette Messimy, and yellow ones +with Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed of red roses. +Round the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge +two rows of annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, +and just beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard +tea and pillar roses. + +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked +with larkspurs, annual and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, +pinks, Madonna lilies, wallflowers, hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, +peonies, lavender, starworts, cornflowers, Lychnis chalcedonica, +and bulbs packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are the borders +that were so hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes +for the verandah steps have been filled with pink and white and +yellow tulips. I love tulips better than any other spring flower; +they are the embodiment of alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, +and next to a hyacinth look like a wholesome, freshly tubbed young +girl beside a stout lady whose every movement weighs down the air +with patchouli. Their faint, delicate scent is refinement itself; +and is there anything in the world more charming than the sprightly +way they hold up their little faces to the sun. I have heard them +called bold and flaunting, but to me they seem modest grace itself, +only always on the alert to enjoy life as much as they can and not +afraid of looking the sun or anything else above them in the face. +On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted with forget-me-nots; +and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils and narcissus. +Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins will (I hope) +shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of firs, +is graced by Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. + +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak +tree that stands alone in the sun--groups of crocuses, daffodils, +narcissus, hyacinths, and tulips, among such flowering shrubs +and trees as Pirus Malus spectabilis, floribunda, and coronaria; +Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, serotina, triloba, and Pissardi; +Cydonias and Weigelias in every colour, and several kinds +of Crataegus and other May lovelinesses. If the weather behaves +itself nicely, and we get gentle rains in due season, I think +this little corner will be beautiful--but what a big "if" it is! +Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers each +contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all +the ditches dried up and the soil was like hot pastry. +At such times the watering is naturally quite beyond the strength +of two men; but as a garden is a place to be happy in, +and not one where you want to meet a dozen curious eyes at +every turn, I should not like to have more than these two, +or rather one and a half--the assistant having stork-like +proclivities and going home in the autumn to his native Russia, +returning in the spring with the first warm winds. +I want to keep him over the winter, as there is much to be done +even then, and I sounded him on the point the other day. +He is the most abject-looking of human beings--lame, and afflicted +with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good worker and plods +along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. + +"Pray, my good stork," said I, or German words to that effect, +"why don't you stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting +away all you have earned?" + +"I would stay," he answered," but I have my wife there in Russia." + +"Your wife!" I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed +creature should have found a mate--as though there were not a superfluity +of mates in the world--"I didn't know you were married?" + +"Yes, and I have two little children, and I don't know what they would do if I were not to come +home. +But it is a very expensive journey to Russia, and costs me +every time seven marks." + +"Seven marks!" + +"Yes, it is a great sum." + +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, +supposing I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. + +All the labourers who work here from March to December +are Russians and Poles, or a mixture of both. We send a man +over who can speak their language, to fetch as many as he can +early in the year, and they arrive with their bundles, +men and women and babies, and as soon as they have got +here and had their fares paid, they disappear in the night +if they get the chance, sometimes fifty of them at a time, +to go and work singly or in couples for the peasants, +who pay them a pfenning or two more a day than we do, +and let them eat with the family. From us they get a mark +and a half to two marks a day, and as many potatoes as they +can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, +but because they are women and must not be encouraged. +The overseer lives with them, and has a loaded revolver in his +pocket and a savage dog at his heels. +For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters +and other permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses +they are put into. I suppose they find it sleepy work; +for certain it is that spring after spring the same thing happens, +fifty of them getting away in spite of all our precautions, +and we are left with our mouths open and much out of pocket. +This spring, by some mistake, they arrived without their bundles, +which had gone astray on the road, and, as they travel in their +best clothes, they refused utterly to work until their luggage came. +Nearly a week was lost waiting, to the despair of all in authority. + +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints' +days, and there surely never was a church so full of them as the +Russian Church. In the spring, when every hour is of vital importance, +the work is constantly being interrupted by them, and the workers +lie sleeping in the sun the whole day, agreeably conscious that they +are pleasing themselves and the Church at one and the same time-- +a state of perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided +by Faith is of course exasperated at this waste of precious time, +and I confess that during the first mild days after the long +winter frost when it is possible to begin to work the ground, +I have sympathised with the gloom of the Man of Wrath, confronted in +one week by two or three empty days on which no man will labour, +and have listened in silence to his remarks about distant Russian saints. + +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation +that made me pity these people when first I came to live among them. +They herd together like animals and do the work of animals; +but in spite of the armed overseer, the dirt and the rags, +the meals of potatoes washed down by weak vinegar and water, +I am beginning to believe that they would strongly object +to soap, I am sure they would not wear new clothes, and I +hear them coming home from their work at dusk singing. +They are like little children or animals in their utter inability +to grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day +in God's sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and +ready for rest and not much inclined to find fault with your lot. +I have not yet persuaded myself, however, that the women are happy. +They have to work as hard as the men and get less for it; +they have to produce offspring, quite regardless of times +and seasons and the general fitness of things ; they +have to do this as expeditiously as possible, so that they +may not unduly interrupt the work in hand; nobody helps them, +notices them, or cares about them, least of all the husband. +It is quite a usual thing to see them working in the fields +in the morning, and working again in the afternoon, having in +the interval produced a baby. The baby is left to an old +woman whose duty it is to look after babies collectively. +When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man +of Wrath informed me that they did not suffer because they had +never worn corsets, nor had their mothers and grandmothers. +We were riding together at the time, and had just passed a batch +of workers, and my husband was speaking to the overseer, +when a woman arrived alone, and taking up a spade, began to dig. +She grinned cheerfully at us as she made a curtesy, and the +overseer remarked that she had just been back to the house +and had a baby. + +"Poor, poor woman!" I cried, as we rode on, feeling for +some occult reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. +"And her wretched husband doesn't care a rap, and will +probably beat her to-night if his supper isn't right. +What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes +when the women have the babies! " + +"Quite so, my dear," replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. +"You have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing this +agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any serious +competition with man. How can a person who is constantly losing a year +of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never loses any time +at all? He has the brute force, and his last word on any subject could always +be his fist." + +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning +of November, and the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses' +feet as we rode towards the Hirschwald. + +"It is a universal custom," proceeded the Man of Wrath, +"amongst these Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes +everywhere, and certainly commendable on the score of simplicity, +to silence a woman's objections and aspirations by knocking her down. +I have heard it said that this apparently brutal action has anything +but the maddening effect tenderly nurtured persons might suppose, +and that the patient is soothed and satisfied with a rapidity +and completeness unattainable by other and more polite methods. +Do you suppose," he went on, flicking a twig off a tree with his whip +as we passed, "that the intellectual husband, wrestling intellectually +with the chaotic yearnings of his intellectual wife, ever achieves +the result aimed at? He may and does go on wrestling till he is tired, +but never does he in the very least convince her of her folly; +while his brother in the ragged coat has got through the whole +business in less time than it takes me to speak about it. +There is no doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far +more thoroughly than the women in our class, and, as the truest: +happiness consists in finding one's vocation quickly and continuing +in it all one's days, I consider they are to be envied rather +than not, since they are early taught, by the impossibility +of argument with marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour +and the blessings of content." + +"Pray go on," I said politely. + +"These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy +of all praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the +strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. +In Russia, not only may a man beat his wife, but it is laid +down in the catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation +as necessary at least once a week, whether she has done anything or not, +for the sake of her general health and happiness." + +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather +to gloat over these castigations. + +"Pray, my dear man," I said, pointing with my whip, +"look at that baby moon so innocently peeping at us over +the edge of the mist just behind that silver birch; and don't +talk so much about women and things you don't understand. +What is the use of your bothering about fists and whips and +muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the confusion +of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, +and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man. + +"And a civilised wife?" he asked, bringing his horse +close up beside me and putting his arm round my waist, +"has she ceased to be a woman?" + +"I should think so indeed,--she is a goddess, and can +never be worshipped and adored enough." + +"It seems to me," he said, "that the conversation is growing personal." + +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. +The Hirschwald is an enchanted place on such an evening, +when the mists lie low on the turf, and overhead the delicate, +bare branches of the silver birches stand out clear against the soft sky, +while the little moon looks down kindly on the damp November world. +Where the trees thicken into a wood, the fragrance of the wet earth +and rotting leaves kicked up by the horses' hoofs fills my soul +with delight. I particularly love that smell,--it brings before me +the entire benevolence of Nature, for ever working death and decay, +so piteous in themselves, into the means of fresh life and glory, +and sending up sweet odours as she works. + + +December 7th.--I have been to England. I went for at least +a month and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. +Twice I fled before the fogs into the country to see friends +with gardens, but it was raining, and except the beautiful lawns +(not to be had in the Fatherland) and the infinite possibilities, +there was nothing to interest the intelligent and garden-loving foreigner, +for the good reason that you cannot be interested in gardens under +an umbrella. So I went back to the fogs, and after groping +about for a few days more began to long inordinately for Germany. +A terrific gale sprang up after I had started, and the journey both +by sea and land was full of horrors, the trains in Germany being +heated to such an extent that it is next to impossible to sit still, +great gusts of hot air coming up under the cushions, the cushions +themselves being very hot, and the wretched traveller still hotter. + +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, +brightest snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed +to be listening, the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot +and on the trees, and a happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, +I was consoled for all my torments, only remembering them enough to wonder +why I had gone away at all. + +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant +bouquet of pine needles and grass in the other, and what with +the due presentation of the bouquets and the struggles of +the kittens, the hugging and kissing was much interfered with. +Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all somehow squeezed into +the sleigh, and off we went with jingling bells and shrieks +of delight. +"Directly you comes home the fun begins," said the May baby, +sitting very close to me. "How the snow purrs!" cried the +April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their feet. +The June baby sat loudly singing "The King of Love my Shepherd is," +and swinging her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. + +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode +of peace, and I ran through all the rooms, eager to take possession +of them again, and feeling as though I had been away for ever. +When I got to the library I came to a standstill,--ah, the dear room, +what happy times I have spent in it rummaging amongst the books, +making plans for my garden, building castles in the air, writing, +dreaming, doing nothing! There was a big peat fire blazing half up +the chimney, and the old housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, +and on the writingtable was a great bunch of violets scenting the room. +"Oh, how good it is to be home again!" I sighed in my satisfaction. +The babies clung about my knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. +Outside the dazzling snow and sunshine, inside the bright room +and happy faces--I thought of those yellow fogs and shivered. +The library is not used by the Man of Wrath ; it is +neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour before +he disappears into his own rooms--a series of very smoky dens +in the southeast corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, +rather too gay for an ideal library; and its colouring, +white and yellow, is so cheerful as to be almost frivolous. +There are white bookcases all round the walls, and there +is a great fireplace, and four windows, facing full south, +opening on to my most cherished bit of garden, the bit round +the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such a big fire +and such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, +in spite of the venerable volumes filling the shelves. +Indeed, I should never be surprised if they skipped down from +their places, and, picking up their leaves, began to dance. + +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity +to being snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go into +the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. +The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes +me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of all +the spotlessness. +Yesterday I sat out of doors near the sun-dial the whole afternoon, +with the thermometer so many degrees below freezing that it +will be weeks finding its way up again; but there was no wind, +and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. +I even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, +and sat till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. +I had to drink the tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination +to begin to freeze. After the sun had gone down the rooks came home +to their nests in the garden with a great fuss and fluttering, and many +hesitations and squabbles before they settled on their respective trees. +They flew over my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings, +and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an intense hush fell +upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas card, +with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, +and lamplight shining in the windows. + +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, +in the intervals between looking round me and being happy. +He came one day with the book and begged me to read it, +having discovered that my interest in Luther was not as living +as it ought to be; so I took it out with me into the garden, +because the dullest book takes on a certain saving grace +if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, devoid of +charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. +I read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances +at the garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. +His struggles with devils amazed me ; and I wondered whether +such a day as that, full of grace and the forgiveness of sins, +never struck him as something to make him relent even towards devils. +He apparently never allowed himself just to be happy. +He was a wonderful man, but I am glad I was not his wife. + +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts +to improve himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have +a spare moment, and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings +with one hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, +of course, getting the greater share of her attention. To most German +Hausfraus the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance, +and they pride themselves on keeping those parts of their houses +that are seen in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, +and this is exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, +are there not other things even more important? And is not plain +living and high thinking better than the other way about? +And all too careful making of dinners and dusting of furniture takes +a terrible amount of precious time, and--and with shame I confess +that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the grammar. +It cannot be right to be the slave of one's household gods, and I protest +that if my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted when I +wanted to be doing something else, and there was no one to do the dusting +for me, I would cast it all into the nearest bonfire and sit and warm +my toes at the flames with great contentment, triumphantly selling +my dusters to the very next pedlar who was weak enough to buy them. +Parsons' wives have to do the housework and cooking themselves, +and are thus not only cooks and housemaids, but if they have children-- +and they always do have children--they are head and under nurse as well; +and besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their +fruit and vegetable garden, and everything to do with their poultry. +This being so, is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely +struggling to learn languages and keep up with her husband? +If I were that husband, those puddings would taste sweetest to me +that were served with Latin sauce. They are both severely pious, +and are for ever engaged in desperate efforts to practise what +they preach; than which, as we all know, nothing is more difficult. +He works in his parish with the most noble self-devotion, and +never loses courage, although his efforts have been several times +rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the street-corners, +thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden wall. +The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a sensitive, +intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before swine. +For years he has gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most living +faith and hope and charity, and I sometimes wonder whether they are +any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor, +a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night, +never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty congregation +waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap. +It is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave +the parish to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never +seems discouraged, and goes on sacrificing the best part +of his life to these people when all his tastes are literary, +and all his inclinations towards the life of the student. +His convictions drag him out of his little home at all hours to +minister to the sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no rest, +and never let him feel he has done enough; and when he comes home weary, +after a day's wrestling with his parishioners' souls, he is confronted +on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front door. +He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid? +Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, +and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest +than the most astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, +roomy cottage, and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. +His predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry, +but then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency, +and had finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon +of a most vituperative description, and hurling invective at +the Man of Wrath, who sat up in his box drinking in every word +and enjoying himself thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes novelty, +and such a sermon had never been heard before. It is spoken +of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy. + + +December 22nd.--Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. +Clear skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch +now and then, very few really cold days. My windows are gay with +hyacinths and lilies of the valley; and though, as I have said, +I don't admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring when it seems +wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers, +I am glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness. +In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; besides, one is +actually less fastidious about everything in the winter. +The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness, +and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are +perfectly welcome then. + +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have +often locked myself up in a room alone, shutting out my +unfinished duties, to study the flower catalogues and make +my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the spring. +It is a fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional +charm when you know you ought to be doing something else, +that Christmas is at the door, that children and servants +and farm hands depend on you for their pleasure, and that, +if you don't see to the decoration of the trees and house, +and the buying of the presents, nobody else will. +The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and with Duty +snarling on the other side of the door. I don't like Duty-- +everything in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one's duty. +Why cannot it be my duty to make lists and plans for the dear garden? +"And so it is," I insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he +protested against what he called wasting my time upstairs. +"No," he replied sagely; "your garden is not your duty, +because it is your Pleasure." + +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly +at my disposal! Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given +to have a sage, and the combination of both is as rare as it is useful. +Indeed, in its practical utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it +is a sofa my neighbour has bought as a Christmas surprise for her husband, +and which she showed me the last time I called there--a beautiful invention, +as she explained, combining a bedstead, a sofa, and a chest of drawers, +and into which you put your clothes, and on top of which you put yourself, +and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and you happen to be +using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the bedclothes inside, +and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa and looking for all +the world as though you had been expecting visitors for hours. + +"Pray, does he wear pyjamas?" I inquired. + +But she had never heard of pyjamas. + +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. +I want to have a border all yellow, every shade of yellow +from fieriest orange to nearly white, and the amount +of work and studying of gardening books it costs me +will only be appreciated by beginners like myself. +I have been weeks planning it, and it is not nearly finished. +I want it to be a succession of glories from May till the frosts, +and the chief feature is to be the number of "ardent marigolds"-- +flowers that I very tenderly love--and nasturtiums. +The nasturtiums are to be of every sort and shade, +and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show +their lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. +Then there are to be eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, +zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, yellow violas, yellow stocks, +yellow sweet-peas, yellow lupins--everything that is yellow +or that has a yellow variety. The place I have chosen for it +is a long, wide border in the sun, at the foot of a grassy +slope crowned with lilacs and pines, and facing southeast. +You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a corner, +are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. +I want it to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, +cool path through the wood. + +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon +the probable difference between the idea and its realisation. +I am ignorant, and the gardener is, I do believe, still more so; +for he was forcing some tulips, and they have all shrivelled up +and died, and he says he cannot imagine why. Besides, he is in love +with the cook, and is going to marry her after Christmas, and refuses +to enter into any of my plans with the enthusiasm they deserve, +but sits with vacant eye dreamily chopping wood from morning till +night to keep the beloved one's kitchen fire well supplied. +I cannot understand any one preferring cooks to marigolds; +those future marigolds, shadowy as they are, and whose seeds are +still sleeping at the seedsman's, have shone through my winter days +like golden lamps. + +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first +thing I should do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I +should have the delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands +and need not waste time explaining what I want done to somebody else. +It is dull work giving orders and trying to describe the bright +visions of one's brain to a person who has no visions and no brain, +and who thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias edged with blue. + +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only +those humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, +for my soil is by no means all that it might be, and to most +plants the climate is rather trying. I feel really grateful +to any flower that is sturdy and willing enough to flourish here. +Pansies seem to like the place and so do sweet-peas; pinks don't, +and after much coaxing gave hardly any flowers last summer. +Nearly all the roses were a success, in spite of the sandy soil, +except the tea-rose Adam, which was covered with buds ready +to open, when they suddenly turned brown and died, and three +standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. +I had been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description +in the catalogues being specially fascinating, +and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I got. "Never be excited, +my dears, about anything," shall be the advice I will give +the three babies when the time comes to take them out to parties, +"or, if you are, don't show it. If by nature you are volcanoes, +at least be only smouldering ones. Don't look pleased, +don't look interested, don't, above all things, look eager. +Calm indifference should be written on every feature of your faces. +Never show that you like any one person, or any one thing. +Be cool, languid, and reserved. If you don't do as your +mother tells you and are just gushing, frisky, young idiots, +snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you'll marry princes and live happily ever after." + +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of +the world the more you are pleased to see a person the less +is he pleased to see you; whereas, if you are disagreeable, +he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance expanding +into wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. +But I was not Prepared for that sort of thing in a rose, +and was disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the best place in +the garden--warm, sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared +with the tenderest care; he was given the most dainty +mixture of compost, clay, and manure; he was watered assiduously +all through the drought when more willing flowers got nothing; +and he refused to do anything but look black and shrivel. +He did not die, but neither did he live--he just existed; +and at the end of the summer not one of him had a scrap +more shoot or leaf than when he was first put in in April. +It would have been better if he had died straight away, for then +I should have known what to do; as it is, there he is still +occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully for the winter, +excluding kinder roses, and probably intending to repeat +the same conduct next year. Well, trials are the portion +of mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any case +it is better to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that +with plants you know that it is you who are in the wrong, +and with persons it is always the other way about--and who is +there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured innocence, +and known them to be grievous? + +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing +to provoke such an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy +little Christmas alone with the Man of Wrath and the babies. +Fate decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, if I look forward to anything, +Fate steps in and decrees otherwise; I don't know why it should, but it does. +I had not even invited these good ladies--like greatness on the modest, +they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet singer of the summer, +whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly thought I had seen +the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I would have her +over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she didn't like him +in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, full of sympathy, +I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other is Minora. + +Why I have to have Minora I don't know, for I +was not even aware of her existence a fortnight ago. +Then coming down cheerfully one morning to breakfast-- +it was the very day after my return from England-- +I found a letter from an English friend, who up till then +had been perfectly innocuous, asking me to befriend Minora. +I read the letter aloud for the benefit of the Man of Wrath, +who was eating Spickgans, a delicacy much sought after in +these parts. +"Do, my dear Elizabeth," wrote my friend, "take some +notice of the poor thing. She is studying art in Dresden, +and has nowhere literally to go for Christmas. +She is very ambitious and hardworking--" + +"Then," interrupted the Man of Wrath," she is not pretty. +"Only ugly girls work hard." + +"--and she is really very clever--" + +"I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid," +again interrupted the Man of Wrath. + +"--and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity +on her she will be very lonely." + +"Then let her be lonely." + +"Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to think +that her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a season." + +"I do not mind the distress of the mother." + +"Oh, dear me," I exclaimed impatiently, "I shall have to ask +her to come!" + +"If you should be inclined," the letter went on, "to play +the good Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would +find Minora a bright, intelligent companion--" + +"Minora?" questioned the Man of Wrath. + +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether +alarmingly zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, +looked up from her bread and milk. + +"It sounds like islands," she remarked pensively. + +The governess coughed. + +"Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark," explained her pupil. + +I looked at her severely. + +"If you are not careful, April," I said, "you'll be a genius +when you grow up and disgrace your parents." + +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. +I am afraid she despises us because she thinks we are foreigners-- +an attitude of mind quite British and wholly to her credit; but we, +on the other hand, regard her as a foreigner, which, of course, +makes things complicated. + +"Shall I really have to have this strange girl?" +I asked, addressing nobody in particular and not expecting a reply. + +"You need not have her," said the Man of Wrath composedly, +"but you will. You will write to-day and cordially invite her, +and when she has been here twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. +I know you, my dear." + +"Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?" +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually +scenting a scene, and is always ready to bring whole batteries +of discretion and tact and good taste to bear on us, and seems +to know we are disputing in an unseemly manner when we would +never dream it ourselves but for the warning of her downcast eyes. +I would take my courage in both hands and ask her to go, +for besides this superfluity of discreet behaviour she is, +although only nursery, much too zealous, and inclined to be always +teaching and never playing; but, unfortunately, the April baby +adores her and is sure there never was any one so beautiful before. +She comes every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of +her wardrobe, and feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; +and Miss Jones looks offended and purses up her lips. +In common with most governesses, she has a little dark +down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared one day +at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, +having achieved it after much struggling, with the aid of a lead +pencil and unbounded love. Miss Jones put her in the corner +for impertinence. I wonder why governesses are so unpleasant. +The Man of Wrath says it is because they are not married. +Without venturing to differ entirely from the opinion +of experience, I would add that the strain of continually having +to set an example must surely be very great. It is much easier, +and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, +and governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, +and when you want to be foolish it must be annoying to have +to be wise. + +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, +when the carriage drove up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed +me that there was a strange girl on a bicycle a little way behind. +I sent back the carriage to pick her up, for it was dusk and +the roads are terrible. + +"But why do you have strange girls here at all?" asked Irais +rather peevishly, taking off her hat in the library before the fire, +and otherwise making herself very much at home; "I don't like them. +I'm not sure that they're not worse than husbands who are out of order. +Who is she? She would bicycle from the station, and is, I am sure, +the first woman who has done it. The little boys threw stones at her." + +"Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. +Never mind her. Let us have tea in peace before she comes." +"But we should be much happier without her," she grumbled. +"Weren't we happy enough in the summer, Elizabeth--just you and I? " + +"Yes, indeed we were," I answered heartily, putting my +arms round her. The flame of my affection for Irais burns +very brightly on the day of her arrival; besides, this time I +have prudently provided against her sinning with the salt-cellars +by ordering them to be handed round like vegetable dishes. +We had finished tea and she had gone up to her room to dress +before Minora and her bicycle were got here. I hurried out +to meet her, feeling sorry for her, plunged into a circle +of strangers at such a very personal season as Christmas. +But she was not very shy; indeed, she was less shy than I was, +and lingered in the hall, giving the servants directions +to wipe the snow off the tyres of her machine before she lent +an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. + +"I couldn't make your man understand me at the station," +she said at last, when her mind was at rest about her bicycle; +"I asked him how far it was, and what the roads were like, +and he only smiled. Is he German? But of course he is-- +how odd that he didn't understand. You speak English very well,-- +very well indeed, do you know." +By this time we were in the library, and she stood on the hearth-rug +warming her back while I poured her out some tea. + +"What a quaint room," she remarked, looking round, +"and the hall is so curious too. Very old, isn't it? +There's a lot of copy here." + +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival +and had come in with us, began to look about on the carpet. +"Copy" he inquired, "Where's copy? " + +"Oh--material, you know, for a book. I'm just jotting down what strikes +me in your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book form." +She spoke very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. + +"My dear," I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room +and shut the door and Minora was safely in hers, "what do you think-- +she writes books!" + +"What--the bicycling girl?" + +"Yes--Minora--imagine it!" + +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. + +"How dreadful!" murmured Irais. "I never met a young girl +who did that before." + +"She says this place is full of copy." +"Full of what? " + +"That's what you make books with." + +"Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is +always a bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her. +But a girl who writes books--why, it isn't respectable! +And you can't snub that sort of people; they're unsnubbable." + +"Oh, but we'll try!" I cried, with such heartiness +that we both laughed. + +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she +lingered so long after dinner in the hall, which is cold, +that the Man of Wrath put on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint. +His hints are always gentle. + +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and +the nuns and Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book +began to take down what I said. I at once relapsed into silence. + +"Well?" she said. + +"That's all." + +"Oh, but you've only just begun." + +"It doesn't go any further. Won't you come into the library? " + +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire +and warmed herself, and we sat in a row and were cold. +She has a wonderfully good profile, which is irritating. +The wind, however, is tempered to the shorn lamb by her eyes +being set too closely together. + +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, +contemplated her critically beneath her long eyelashes. +"You are writing a book?" she asked presently. + +"Well--yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, +you know, of your country. Anything that strikes me as curious +or amusing--I jot it down, and when I have time shall work it up +into something, I daresay." + +"Are you not studying painting? " + +"Yes, but I can't study that for ever. We have an English proverb: +'Life is short and Art is long'--too long, I sometimes think-- +and writing is a great relaxation when I am tired." + +"What shall you call it?" + +"Oh, I thought of calling it Journeyings in Germany. +It sounds well, and would be correct. Or Jottings from +German Journeyings,--I haven't quite decided yet which." + +"By the author of Prowls in Pomerania, you might add," suggested Irais. + +"And Drivel from Dresden," said I. + +"And Bosh from Berlin," added Irais. + +Minora stared. "I don't think those two last ones would do," +she said, "because it is not to be a facetious book. +But your first one is rather a good title," she added, +looking at Irais and drawing out her note-book. "I think I'll +just jot that down." + +"If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it +still be your book?" asked Irais. + +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. + +"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, +turning to the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds +of smoke in silence. + +"Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?" + +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, +and were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her +note-book. The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded +to under his very nose by our new guest as "him." + +"Husbands are always sages," said I gravely. + +"Though sages are not always husbands," said Irais with equal gravity. +"Sages and husbands--sage and husbands--" she went on musingly, "what does +that remind you of, Miss Minora?" + +"Oh, I know,--how stupid of me!" cried Minora eagerly, her pencil +in mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, "sage and,-- +why,--yes,--no,--yes, of course--oh," disappointedly, "but that's vulgar-- +I can't put it in." + +"What is vulgar?" I asked. + +"She thinks sage and onions is vulgar," said Irais languidly; +"but it isn't, it is very good." She got up and walked to +the piano, and, sitting down, began, after a little wandering +over the keys, to sing. + +"Do you play?" I asked Minora. + +"Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice." + +I said no more. I know what that sort of playing is. + +"When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora +began suddenly to speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. +"What is the matter with her?" murmured Irais. + +"I thought, perhaps," said Minora in English, you might prefer +to talk German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk--" +"Oh, pray don't trouble," said Irais. "We like airing our English-- +don't we, Elizabeth?" + +"I don't want my German to get rusty though," said Minora; +"I shouldn't like to forget it." + +"Oh, but isn't there an English song," said Irais, twisting round +her neck as she preceded us upstairs, "''Tis folly to remember, +'tis wisdom to forget'?" + +"You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope," I said hastily. + +"What room is she in?" asked Irais. + +"No. 12." + +"Oh!--do you believe in ghosts?" + +Minora turned pale. + +"What nonsense," said I; "we have no ghosts here. +Good-night. If you want anything, mind you ring." + +"And if you see anything curious in that room," +called Irais from her bedroom door, "mind you jot it down." + + +December 27th--It is the fashion, I believe, +to regard Christmas as a bore of rather a gross description, +and as a time when you are invited to over-eat yourself, +and pretend to be merry without just cause. +As a matter of fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic +institutions possible, if observed in the proper manner, +and after having been more or less unpleasant to everybody +for a whole year, it is a blessing to be forced on that one day +to be amiable, and it is certainly delightful to be able to give +presents without being haunted by the conviction that you +are spoiling the recipient, and will suffer for it afterward. +Servants are only big children, and are made just as happy +as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, +for days beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden +they expect to meet the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. +They firmly believe that it is thus their presents are brought, +and it is such a charming idea that Christmas would be worth +celebrating for its sake alone. + +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve +entirely on me, and it is not very easy work, with so many people +in our own house and on each of the farms, and all the children, +big and little, expecting their share of happiness. +The library is uninhabitable for several days before and after, +as it is there that we have the trees and presents. +All down one side are the trees, and the other three sides +are lined with tables, a separate one for each person in the house. +When the trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance shining +down on the happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, +and the number of times I have had to run up and down stairs, +and the various aches in head and feet, and enjoy myself as much +as anybody. First the June baby is ushered in, then the others +and ourselves according to age, then the servants, then come +the head inspector and his family, the other inspectors from +the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and secretaries, +and then all the children, troops and troops of them-- +the big ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying +the babies in their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. +As many as can get in stand in front of the trees, and sing +two or three carols; then they are given their presents, +and go off triumphantly, making room for the next batch. +My three babies sang lustily too, whether they happened +to know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses +in honour of the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed +in a low-necked and short-sleeved garment, after the manner +of Teutonic infants, whatever the state of the thermometer. +Her arms are like miniature prize-fighter's arms--I never saw +such things; they are the pride and joy of her little nurse, +who had tied them up with blue ribbons, and kept on kissing them. +I shall certainly not be able to take her to balls when she +grows up, if she goes on having arms like that. + +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. +The April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, +which she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, +but because she was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. +They kissed me absently, and went away, only the April baby glancing +at the trees as she passed and making them a curtesy. + +"Good-bye, trees," I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese +doll bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blase fashion. +"You'll never see such trees again," she told him, giving him +a vindictive shake, "for you'll be brokened long before next time." + +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. + +"Thank the Christkind so much, Mummy, won't you, +for all the lovely things He brought us. I suppose +you're writing to Him now, isn't you?" + +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, +and we were perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least +two days it brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. +Happiness is so wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety +far more effectually than any amount of trials and griefs, and an +unexpected pleasure is the surest means of bringing me to my knees. +In spite of the protestations of some peculiarly constructed +persons that they are the better for trials, I don't believe it. +Such things must sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, +and make us kinder, and more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it +behoves us to be more thankful for trials than for blessings? +We were meant to be happy, and to accept all the happiness offered +with thankfulness--indeed, we are none of us ever thankful enough, +and yet we each get so much, so very much, more than we deserve. +I know a woman--she stayed with me last summer--who rejoices grimly +when those she loves suffer. She believes that it is our lot, +and that it braces us and does us good, and she would shield +no one from even unnecessary pain; she weeps with the sufferer, +but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her continue +in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the beauty and +the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire to possess one; +her convictions have the sad gray colouring of the dingy streets +and houses she lives amongst--the sad colour of humanity in masses. +Submission to what people call their "lot" is simply ignoble. +If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and take another; +strike out for yourself; don't listen to the shrieks of your relations, +to their gibes or their entreaties; don't let your own microscopic +set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don't be afraid +of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next house, +when all the world is before you new and shining, and everything +is possible, if you will only be energetic and independent and seize +opportunity by the scruff of the neck. + +"To hear you talk," said Irais, "no one would ever imagine +that you dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you +never in your life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. +And what is scruff? I hope I have not got any on me." +And she craned her neck before the glass. + +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, +but very soon Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired +and took up a book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies-- +it was Miss Jones's last public appearance, as I shall relate-- +and after working for the best part of two days they were finished, +and looked like lovely ladies in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, +holding up their skirts with glittering fingers. +Minora wrote a long description of them for a chapter of her +book which is headed Noel,--I saw that much, because she left +it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. +They were fast friends from the very first, and though it +is said to be natural to take to one's own countrymen, +I am unable altogether to sympathise with such a reason +for sudden affection. + +"I wonder what they talk about?" I said to Irais yesterday, +when there was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she +engaged in conversation with Miss Jones. + +"Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, +or else they think they are clever, and then they talk rubbish." + +"Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever." + +"I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? +Why does your governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon +I always imagine she must have just heard that somebody is dead. +But she can't hear that every day. What is the matter with her? " + +"I don't think she feels quite as proper as she looks," +I said doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for +Miss Jones's expression. + +"But that must be rather nice," said Irais. "It would +be awful for her if she felt exactly the same as she looks." + +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, +and the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, +leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying-- + +"Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be terrible. +Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have continually +to pose before their flock as such. As for governesses, Miss Minora, +I know what I am saying when I affirm that there is nothing more +intolerable than to have to be polite, and even humble, to persons whose +weaknesses and follies are glaringly apparent in every word they utter, +and to be forced by the presence of children and employers to a dignity +of manner in no way corresponding to one's feelings. The grave father +of a family, who was probably one of the least respectable of bachelors, +is an interesting study at his own table, where he is constrained to assume +airs of infallibility merely because his children are looking at him. +The fact of his being a parent does not endow him with any supreme and +sudden virtue; and I can assure you that among the eyes fixed upon him, +not the least critical and amused are those of the humble person who fills +the post of governess." + +"Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!" we heard Minora say +in accents of rapture, while we sat transfixed with horror at +these sentiments. "Do you mind if I put that down in my book? +You say it all so beautifully." + +"Without a few hours of relaxation," continued Miss Jones, +"of private indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed +in public, who could wade through days of correct behaviour? +There would be no reaction, no room for better impulses, +no place for repentance. Parents, priests, and governesses +would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a quiet +moment in which she can take off her corsets." + +"My dear, what a firebrand!" whispered Irais. I got up and went in. +They were sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing admiringly +into Miss Jones's face, which wore a very different expression from the one +of sour and unwilling propriety I have been used to seeing. + +"May I ask you to come to tea?" I said to Minora. +And I should like to have the children a little while." + +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door +open until she had gone in and the two babies had followed. +They had been playing at stuffing each other's ears with pieces +of newspaper while Miss Jones provided Minora with noble thoughts +for her work, and had to be tortured afterward with tweezers. +I said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us till dinner-time, +and this morning we went for a long sleigh-drive. +When we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. + +"Is Miss Jones ill?" asked Minora. + +"She is gone," I said. + +"Gone? " + +"Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?" asked Irais blandly; +and we talked resolutely of something else. + +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, +and it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits +so often are. It is enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, +poor thing, that she should have preferred the society of a Miss Jones +to that of Irais and myself. + +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. +"You look so pale," she said; "are you not well?" + +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one +who likes to be thought a sufferer. "I have a slight headache," +she replied gently. + +"I hope you are not going to be ill," said Irais with great concern, +"because there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means well, +I believe he is rather rough." +Minora was plainly startled. "But what do you do if you +are ill?" she asked. + +"Oh, we are never ill," said I; "the very knowledge that there +would be no one to cure us seems to keep us healthy." + +"And if any one takes to her bed," said Irais, "Elizabeth always calls +in the cow-doctor." + +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part +of the world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised +creature besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. +Whatever her reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. + + +January 1st.--The service on New Year's Eve is the only one in +the whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, +and then the very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial +produce an effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. +Last night we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely +miles in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns. +We sat wrapped up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a funeral procession. + +We are going to the burial of our last year's sins," +said Irais, as we started; and there certainly was a funereal sort +of feeling in the air. Up in our gallery pew we tried to decipher +our chorales by the light of the spluttering tallow candles stuck in +holes in the woodwork, the flames wildly blown about by the draughts. +The wind banged against the windows in great gusts, screaming louder +than the organ, and threatening to blow out the agitated lights together. +The parson in his gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a framework of dusty +carved angels, took on an awful appearance of menacing Authority +as he raised his voice to make himself heard above the clatter. +Sitting there in the dark, I felt very small, and solitary, and defenceless, +alone in a great, big, black world. The church was as cold as a tomb; +some of the candles guttered and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke +of death and judgment; I thought I heard a child's voice screaming, and could +hardly believe it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; +all my faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I +should probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise idea. +If it had not been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so despairingly, +I should have paid little attention to the threats issuing +from the pulpit; but, as it was, I fell to making good resolutions. +This is always a bad sign,--only those who break them make them; +and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is right as it comes, +any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely superfluous. +I have for some years past left off making them on New Year's Eve, +and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing so last night; +for I have long since discovered that, though the year and the resolutions +may be new, I myself am not, and it is worse than useless putting new +wine into old bottles. + +"But I am not an old bottle," said Irais indignantly, when I held +forth to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, +restored to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, "and I find +my resolutions carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them +at the end of each month, and strike out the unnecessary ones. +By the end of April they have been so severely revised that there +are none left." + +"There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new +contents would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, +and the practice of your resolutions would lose its bitterness +by becoming a habit." + +She shook her head. "Such things never lose their bitterness," she said, +"and that is why I don't let them cling to me right into the summer. +When May comes, I give myself up to jollity with all the rest of the world, +and am too busy being happy to bother about anything I may have resolved +when the days were cold and dark." + +"And that is just why I love you," I thought. +She often says what I feel. + +"I wonder," she went on after a pause, "whether men +ever make resolutions?" + +"I don't think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. +It is a nice sort of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, +giving way to endless grief and penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes +in contrition; but it is silly. Why cry over things that are done? +Why do naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? +Nobody is naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really +repents unless they are afraid they are going to be found out." + +"By 'nobody' of course you mean women, said Irais. + +"Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally +have the courage of their opinions." + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais in the amiably +polite tone she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. + +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting +round the fire, waiting for the New Year, and sipping Glubwein, +prepared at a small table by the Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, +and rather nasty, but it is proper to drink it on this one night, +so of course we did. + +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon +discovered that, and laugh about it when we are alone together. +I can understand her disliking Irais, but she must be a perverse +creature not to like me. Irais has poked fun at her, and I have been, +I hope, very kind; yet we are bracketed together in her black books. +It is also apparent that she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an interesting +example of an ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is disposed +to take him under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against us. +He never speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, +as far as Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, +and sits sphinx-like and impenetrable while she takes us to task +about some remark of a profane nature that we may have addressed to him. +One night, some days after her arrival, she developed a skittishness +of manner which has since disappeared, and tried to be playful with him; +but you might as well try to be playful with a graven image. +The wife of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the first +after a series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health +of all parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink +a glass off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. +Minora thought the incident typical of German manners, and not only +made notes about it, but joined heartily in the health-drinking, and +afterward grew skittish. + +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, +I think, the Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced +in England; and, to induce us to learn, she played the tune +to us on the piano. We remained untouched by its beauties, +each buried in an easy-chair toasting our toes at the fire. +Amongst those toes were those of the Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably +reading a book and smoking. Minora volunteered to show us the steps, +and as we still did not move, danced solitary behind our chairs. +Irais did not even turn her head to look, and I was the only one +amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve to be placed +in Minora's list of disagreeable people side by side with Irais? +Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. + +"It wants the music, of course," observed Minora breathlessly, +darting in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, +but glancing at the Man of Wrath. + +No answer from anybody. + +"It is such a pretty dance," she panted again, after a +few more gyrations. + +No answer. + +"And is all the rage at home." + +No answer. + +"Do let me teach you. Won't you try, Herr Sage?" + +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. +It is thus she always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, +so patent to every one else, that he resents it. + +"Oh come, put away that tiresome old book," +she went on gaily, as he did not move; "I am certain it +is only some dry agricultural work that you just nod over. +Dancing is much better for you." +Irais and I looked at one another quite frightened. +I am sure we both turned pale when the unhappy girl actually laid +hold forcibly of his book, and, with a playful little shriek, +ran away with it into the next room, hugging it to her bosom +and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she ran. +There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. +Then the Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end +of his cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door +into his own rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. +She has never, I must say, been skittish since. + +"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais, +"because this sort of conversation is likely to do you good." + +"I always listen when people talk sensibly," replied Minora, +stirring her grog. + +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. +"Do you agree with our hostess's description of women?" +she asked after a pause. + +"As nobodies? No, of course I do not." + +"Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally +nobodies in our country. Did you know that women are forbidden +to go to political meetings here?" +"Really?" Out came the note-book. + +"The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings +of women, children, and idiots." + +"Children and idiots--I understand that," said Minora; "but women-- +and classed with children and idiots?" + +"Classed with children and idiots," repeated Irais, +gravely nodding her head. "Did you know that the law forbids +females of any age to ride on the top of omnibuses or tramcars?" + +"Not really?" + +"Do you know why?" + +"I can't imagine." + +"Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps +catch a glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles." + +"But what--" + +"Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them? " + +"But I don't see how a stocking--" + +"With stripes round it," said Irais. + +"And darns in it," I added. + +--could possibly be pernicious? " + +"'The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,'" +said Irais. "Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany." + +"I never know," complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, +"whether you are in earnest or not." + +"Don't you?" said Irais sweetly. + +"Is it true," appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, +busy with his lemons in the background, "that your law classes +women with children and idiots?" + +"Certainly," he answered promptly, "and a very +proper classification, too." + +We all looked blank. "That's rude," said I at last. + +"Truth is always rude, my dear," he replied complacently. +Then he added, "If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, +and had previously enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, +of listening to the conversation of you three young ladies, +I should make precisely the same classification." + +Even Minora was incensed at this. + +"You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we +are idiots," said Irais. + +"Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,--nice little +agreeable children. I very much like to hear you talk together. +It is all so young and fresh what you think and what you believe, +and not of the least consequence to any one. + +"Not of the least consequence?" cried Minora. +"What we believe is of very great consequence indeed to us." + +"Are you jeering at our beliefs?" inquired Irais sternly. + +"Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb +or change your pretty little beliefs. It is your chief charm +that you always believe every-thing. How desperate would our case +be if young ladies only believed facts, and never accepted another +person's assurance, but preferred the evidence of their own eyes! +They would have no illusions, and a woman without illusions is +the dreariest and most difficult thing to manage possible." + +"Thing?" protested Irais. + +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it +from time to time by holding forth at unnecessary length. +He took up his stand now with his back to the fire, +and a glass of Glubwein in his hand. Minora had hardly +heard his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, +and sat with her pencil raised, ready to fix for ever +the wisdom that should flow from his lips. + +"What would become of poetry if women became so sensible +that they turned a deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? +That love does indulge in platitudes I suppose you will admit." +He looked at Irais. + +"Yes, they all say exactly the same thing," she acknowledged. + +"Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, +if the listener's want of imagination was such as to enable her only +to distinguish one victim in the picture, and that one herself? " + +Minora took that down word for word,--much good may it do her. + +"Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused +he will die, if his assurances merely elicit a recommendation +to diet himself, and take plenty of outdoor exercise? +Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe them. +Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross +that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to tell +the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to. +Who indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than +the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained2 He will, +like the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations, +display all his talent, untiringly repeat his sweetest notes, +until he has what he wants, when his song, like the nightingale's, +immediately ceases, never again to be heard." + +"Take that down," murmured Irais aside to Minora--unnecessary advice, +for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. + +"A woman's vanity is so immeasurable that, after having +had ninety-nine object-lessons in the difference between +promise and performance and the emptiness of pretty speeches, +the beginning of the hundredth will find her lending +the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence +of flattery as she did on the occasion of the first. +What can the exhortations of the strong-minded sister, +who has never had these experiences, do for such a woman? +It is useless to tell her she is man's victim, that she is +his plaything, that she is cheated, down-trodden, kept under, +laughed at, shabbily treated in every way--that is not a true +statement of the case. She is simply the victim of her own vanity, +and against that, against the belief in her own fascinations, +against the very part of herself that gives all the colour +to her life, who shall expect a woman to take up arms?" + +"Are you so vain, Elizabeth?" inquired Irais with a shocked face, +"and had you lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine +before you reached your final destiny?" + +"I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose," I replied, +"for nobody ever wanted me to listen to blandishments." + +Minora sighed. + +"I like to hear you talk together about the position of women," +he went on, "and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly +the position they are fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a better, +no power on earth will be able to keep them out of it. Meanwhile, let me +warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded women wish to see +you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are invariably plain. +The pretty ones would rather see men their slaves than their equals." + +"You know," said Irais, frowning, "that I consider myself strong-minded." + +"And never rise till lunch-time?" + +Irais blushed. Although I don't approve of such conduct, +it is very convenient in more ways than one; +I get through my housekeeping undisturbed, and whenever she +is disposed to lecture me, I begin about this habit of hers. +Her conscience must be terribly stricken on the point, +for she is by no means as a rule given to meekness. + +"A woman without vanity would be unattackable," resumed the Man +of Wrath. "When a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, +she is led solely by her own vanity; for in these days of policemen +no young woman can be forced against her will from the path +of virtue, and the cries of the injured are never heard until +the destroyer begins to express his penitence for having destroyed. +If his passion could remain at white-heat and he could continue +to feed her ear with the protestations she loves, no principles +of piety or virtue would disturb the happiness of his companion; +for a mournful experience teaches that piety begins only where +passion ends, and that principles are strongest where temptations +are most rare." + +"But what has all this to do with us?" I inquired severely. + +"You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, +and I merely wish to justify it," he answered. +"Creatures who habitually say yes to everything a man proposes, +when no one can oblige them to say it, and when it is so often fatal, +are plainly not responsible beings." + +"I shall never say it to you again, my dear man," I said. + +"And not only that fatal weakness," he continued, +"but what is there, candidly, to distinguish you from children? +You are older, but not wiser,--really not so wise, +for with years you lose the common sense you had as children. +Have you ever heard a group of women talking reasonably together? " + +"Yes--we do!" Irais and I cried in a breath. + +"It has interested me," went on the Man of Wrath, "in my idle moments, +to listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little +stories they told of their best friends who were absent, to note +the spiteful little digs they gave their best friends who were present, +to watch the utter incredulity with which they listened to the tale +of some other woman's conquests, the radiant good faith they displayed +in connection with their own, the instant collapse into boredom, +if some topic of so-called general interest, by some extraordinary chance, +were introduced." +"You must have belonged to a particularly nice set," remarked Irais. + +"And as for politics," he said, "I have never heard them +mentioned among women." + +"Children and idiots are not interested in such things," I said. + +"And we are much too frightened of being put in prison," said Irais. + +"In prison?" echoed Minora. + +"Don't you know," said Irais, turning to her "that if you talk +about such things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?" + +"But why?" + +"But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant +nothing but what was innocent, your words may have suggested +something less innocent to the evil minds of your hearers; +and then the law steps in, and calls it dolus eventualis, +and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to prison +and are punished as you deserve to be." + +Minora looked mystified. + +"That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them," +said the Man of Wrath; "they simply do not interest you. +Or it may be, that you do not consider your female friends' +opinions worth listening to, for you certainly display an +astonishing thirst for information when male politicians are present. +I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly in her twenties, sitting a whole +evening drinking in the doubtful wisdom of an elderly political star, +with every appearance of eager interest. He was a bimetallic star, +and was giving her whole pamphletsful of information." + +"She wanted to make up to him for some reason," said Irais, "and got +him to explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken in. +Now which was the sillier in that case?" + +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, +beating her foot impatiently on the carpet. + +"She wanted to be thought clever," said the Man of Wrath. +"What puzzled me," he went on musingly," was that she went +away apparently as serene and happy as when she came. +The explanation of the principles of bimetallism produce, +as a rule, a contrary effect." + +"Why, she hadn't been listening," cried Irais, "and your simple +star had been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. + + "Prattle, prattle, simple star, + Bimetallic, wunderbar. + Though you're given to describe + Woman as a dummes Weib. + You yourself are sillier far, + Prattling, bimetallic star!" + +"No doubt she had understood very little," said the Man of Wrath, +taking no notice of this effusion. + +"And no doubt the gentleman hadn't understood much either." +Irais was plainly irritated. + +"Your opinion of woman," said Minora in a very small voice, +"is not a high one. But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree +that no one could take her place? " + +"If you are thinking of hospital-nurses," I said, "I must tell +you that I believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife +instead of a strange woman to nurse him when he is sick." + +"But," said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being +knocked about, "the sick-room is surely the very place of all others +in which a woman's gentleness and tact are most valuable." + +"Gentleness and tact?" repeated the Man of Wrath. +"I have never met those qualities in the professional nurse. +According to my experience, she is a disagreeable person +who finds in private nursing exquisite opportunities for +asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate mankind. +I know of no more humiliating position for a man than to be +in bed having his feverish brow soothed by a sprucely-dressed +strange woman, bristling with starch and spotlessness. +He would give half his income for his clothes, and probably +the other half if she would leave him alone, and go away altogether. +He feels her superiority through every pore; he never before +realised how absolutely inferior he is; he is abjectly polite, +and contemptibly conciliatory; if a friend comes to see him, +he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening behind +the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far +more intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really +belongs to him; he has read of ministering angels and the light +touch of a woman's hand, but the day on which he can ring +for his servant and put on his socks in private fills him +with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt as a homesick +schoolboy at the end of his first term." + +Minora was silent. Irais's foot was livelier than ever. +The Man of Wrath stood smiling blandly down upon us. +You can't argue with a person so utterly convinced of his +infallibility that he won't even get angry with you; +so we sat round and said nothing. + +"If," he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, +"you doubt the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic +notion of noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient +over the rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg +you to try for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, +whether the actual fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief. +The angel who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in such a +questionable shape, that to the unimaginative she appears merely +as an extremely self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first +of all in securing her personal comfort, much given to complaints +about her food and to helplessness where she should be helpful, +possessing an extraordinary capacity for fancying herself slighted, +or not regarded as the superior being she knows herself to be, +morbidly anxious lest the servants should, by some mistake, treat her +with offensive cordiality, pettish if the patient gives more trouble +than she had expected, intensely injured and disagreeable if he is made +so courageous by his wretchedness as to wake her during the night-- +an act of desperation of which I was guilty once, and once only. +Oh, these good women! What sane man wants to have to do with angels? +And especially do we object to having them about us when we are sick +and sorry, when we feel in every fibre what poor things we are, +and when all our fortitude is needed to enable us to bear our +temporary inferiority patiently, without being forced besides +to assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness towards +the angel in the house." + +There was a pause. + +"I didn't know you could talk so much, Sage," said Irais at length. + +"What would you have women do, then?" asked Minora meekly. +Irais began to beat her foot up and down again,--what did it +matter what Men of Wrath would have us do? "There are not," +continued Minora, blushing, "husbands enough for every one, +and the rest must do something." + +"Certainly," replied the oracle. "Study the art of pleasing +by dress and manner as long as you are of an age to interest us, +and above all, let all women, pretty and plain, married and single, +study the art of cookery. If you are an artist in the kitchen +you will always be esteemed." + +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, +has learned to cook; I seem to have been the only one who was +naughty and wouldn't. + +"Only be careful," he went on, "in studying both arts, +never to forget the great truth that dinner precedes blandishments +and not blandishments dinner. A man must be made comfortable +before he will make love to you; and though it is true that if you +offered him a choice between Spickgans and kisses, he would say +he would take both, yet he would invariably begin with the Spickgans, +and allow the kisses to wait." + +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. +"Your cynicism is disgusting," I said icily. + +"You two are always exceptions to anything I may say," +he said, smiling amiably. + +He stooped and kissed Irais's hand. She is inordinately vain +of her hands, and says her husband married her for their sake, +which I can quite believe. I am glad they are on her and not on Minora, +for if Minora had had them I should have been annoyed. Minora's are bony, +with chilly-looking knuckles, ignored nails, and too much wrist. +I feel very well disposed towards her when my eye falls on them. +She put one forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed too. + +"Did you know," said Irais, seeing the movement, "that it is the custom +here to kiss women's hands?" + +"But only married women's," I added, not desiring her to feel out of it, +"never young girls'." + +She drew it in again. "It is a pretty custom," she said with a sigh; +and pensively inscribed it in her book. + + +January 15th.--The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last year's +horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down to breakfast +this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is expensive, I find, +when it has to be paid for out of one's own private pin-money. The Man of +Wrath does not in the least want roses, or flowering shrubs, or plantations, +or new paths, and therefore, he asks, why should he pay for them? +So he does not and I do, and I have to make up for it by not indulging +all too riotously in new clothes, which is no doubt very chastening. +I certainly prefer buying new rose-trees to new dresses, if I cannot +comfortably have both; and I see a time coming when the passion for my +garden will have taken such a hold on me that I shall not only entirely +cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell those that I already have. +The garden is so big that everything has to be bought wholesale; +and I fear I shall not be able to go on much longer with only one man +and a stork, because the more I plant the more there will be to water +in the inevitable drought, and the watering is a serious consideration +when it means going backwards and forwards all day long to a pump near +the house, with a little water-cart. People living in England, in almost +perpetual mildness and moisture, don't really know what a drought is. +If they have some weeks of cloudless weather, it is generally preceded +and followed by good rains; but we have perhaps an hour's shower every week, +and then comes a month or six weeks' drought. The soil is very light, +and dries so quickly that, after the heaviest thunder-shower, I can walk +over any of my paths in my thin shoes; and to keep the garden even moderately +damp it should pour with rain regularly every day for three hours. +My only means of getting water is to go to the pump near the house, +or to the little stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little +stream dries up too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times +difficult to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. +I possess one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted +with silver birches in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted +between the birches with flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy-- +the soil for pines and acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what +love will do--there are more roses in my garden than any other flower! +Next spring the bare places are to be filled with trees that I have ordered: +pines behind the delicate acacias, and startling mountain-ashes, oaks, +copper-beeches, maples, larches, juniper-trees--was it not Elijah +who sat down to rest under a juniper-tree? I have often wondered +how he managed to get under it. It is a compact little tree, +not more than two to three yards high here, and all closely squeezed +up together. Perhaps they grew more aggressively where he was. +By the time the babies have grown old and disagreeable it will be +very pretty here, and then possibly they won't like it; and, if they +have inherited the Man of Wrath's indifference to gardens, they will let +it run wild and leave it to return to the state in which I found it. +Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to live in it, or to come +to such a lonely place at all, and then of course its fate is sealed. +My only comfort is that husbands don't flourish in the desert, and that +the three will have to wait a long time before enough are found to go round. +Mothers tell me that it is a dreadful business finding one husband; how much +more painful then to have to look for three at once!--the babies are so nearly +the same age that they only just escaped being twins. But I won't look. +I can imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, +I don't think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. +I shall do my best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love +the garden, and out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a spark +of their mother in them, they will want and ask for nothing better. +My hope of success is however exceedingly small, and there is probably +a fearful period in store for me when I shall be taken every day during +the winter to the distant towns to balls--a poor old mother shivering +in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made to start after +an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next morning. +Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go to "partings" +as they call them, the April baby announcing her intention of beginning +to do so when she is twelve. "Are you twelve, Mummy?" she asked. + +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am +trying to find another. It is grievous changing so often-- +in two years I shall have had three--because at each change +a great part of my plants and plans necessarily suffers. +Seeds get lost, seedlings are not pricked out in time, +places already sown are planted with something else, +and there is confusion out of doors and despair in my heart. +But he was to have married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost +and immediately left, and he is going after her as soon as he can, +and meanwhile is wasting visibly away. What she saw was doors +that are locked opening with a great clatter all by themselves +on the hingeside, and then somebody invisible cursed at her. +These phenomena now go by the name of "the ghost." +She asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had +never been in a place where there was a ghost before. +I suggested that she should try and get used to it; +but she thought it would be wasting time, and she looked +so ill that I let her go, and the garden has to suffer. +I don't know why it should be given to cooks to see such +interesting things and withheld from me, but I have had two +others since she left, and they both have seen the ghost. +Minora grows very silent as bed-time approaches, and relents +towards Irais and myself; and, after having shown us all day +how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles are +brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice +anxiously inquired whether Irais is sure she does not object +to sleeping alone. + +"If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company," +she said; "I don't mind at all, I assure you." + +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, +and has told me she would rather sleep with fifty ghosts +than with one Minora. + +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her +parent's bedside I have seen a good deal of the babies; +and it is so nice without a governess that I would put off +engaging another for a year or two, if it were not that I should +in so doing come within the reach of the arm of the law, +which is what every German spends his life in trying to avoid. +The April baby will be six next month, and, after her sixth +birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to receive a visit +from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the state +of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, +all sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, +probably beginning with fines, and going on crescendo to +dungeons if, owing to gaps between governesses and difficulties +in finding the right one, we persisted in our evil courses. +Shades of the prison-house begin to close here upon the growing boy, +and prisons compass the Teuton about on every side all through +life to such an extent that he has to walk very delicately indeed +if he would stay outside them and pay for their maintenance. +Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect to teach +their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, +and are apt to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector +into their homes; but it does not much matter after all, and I +daresay it is very good for us to be worried; indeed, a philosopher +of my acquaintance declares that people who are not regularly +and properly worried are never any good for anything. +In the eye of the law we are all sinners, and every man is held +to be guilty until he has proved that he is innocent. + +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly +trying to get out of their way for several days, she thought it +better to resign herself, and make the best of it by regarding +them as copy, and using them to fill a chapter in her book. +So she took to dogging their footsteps wherever they went, +attended their uprisings and their lyings down, engaged them, +if she could, in intelligent conversation, went with them +into the garden to study their ways when they were sleighing, +drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a burden to them. +This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write +the result with the Man of Wrath's typewriter, borrowed whenever +her notes for any chapter have reached the state of ripeness +necessary for the process she describes as "throwing into form." +She writes everything with a typewriter, even her private letters. + +"Don't forget to put in something about a mother's knee," said Irais; +"you can't write effectively about children without that." +"Oh, of course I shall mention that," replied Minora. + +"And pink toes," I added. "There are always toes, +and they are never anything but pink." + +"I have that somewhere," said Minora, turning over her notes. + +"But, after all, babies are not a German speciality," said Irais, "and I +don't quite see why you should bring them into a book of German travels. +Elizabeth's babies have each got the fashionable number of arms and legs, +and are exactly the same as English ones." + +"Oh, but they can't be just the same, you know," +said Minora, looking worried. "It must make a difference +living here in this place, and eating such odd things, +and never having a doctor, and never being ill. +Children who have never had measles and those things can't +be quite the same as other children; it must all be in +their systems and can't get out for some reason or other. +And a child brought up on chicken and rice-pudding must be +different to a child that eats Spickgans and liver sausages. +And they are different; I can't tell in what way, but they +certainly are; and I think if I steadily describe them +from the materials I have collected the last three days, +I may perhaps hit on the points of difference." + +"Why bother about points of difference?" asked Irais. +"I should write some little thing, bringing in the usual +parts of the picture, such as knees and toes, and make +it mildly pathetic." + +"But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do," +said Minora plaintively; "I have so little experience of children." + +"Then why write it at all?" asked that sensible person Elizabeth. + +"I have as little experience as you," said Irais, "because I +have no children; but if you don't yearn after startling originality, +nothing is easier than to write bits about them. I believe I could +do a dozen in an hour." + +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, +and scribbled for about five minutes. "There," she said, throwing it +to Minora, "you may have it--pink toes and all complete." + +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: + +"When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at +bed-time my stale and battered soul is filled with awe. +All sorts of vague memories crowd into my mind-- +memories of my own mother and myself--how many years ago!-- +of the sweet helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in +her arms, and undressed, and put in my cot, without being wakened; +of the angels I believed in; of little children coming straight +from heaven, and still being surrounded, so long as they were good, +by the shadow of white wings,--all the dear poetic nonsense learned, +just as my baby is learning it, at her mother's knee. +She has not an idea of the beauty of the charming things +she is told, and stares wide-eyed, with heavenly eyes, +while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come from, +and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. +At two years old she does not understand angels, and does +understand bread and milk; at five she has vague notions +about them, and prefers bread and milk; at ten both bread +and milk and angels have been left behind in the nursery, +and she has already found out that they are luxuries not necessary +to her everyday life. In later years she may be disinclined +to accept truths second-hand, insist on thinking for herself, +be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded traditions, +be untiring in her efforts to live according to a high +moral standard and to be strong, and pure, and good--" + +"Like tea," explained Irais. + +"--yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth +part of the charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, +her first reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother's knees. +I love to come in at bed-time and sit in the window in the +setting sunshine watching the mysteries of her going to bed. +Her mother tubs her, for she is far too precious to be touched +by any nurse, and then she is rolled up in a big bath towel, +and only her little pink toes peep out; and when she is powdered, +and combed, and tied up in her night-dress, and all her curls are +on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt down on her mother's lap, +a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face reflects the quiet +of her mother's face as she goes through her evening prayer for pity +and for peace." + +"How very curious!" said Minora, when she had finished. +"That is exactly what I was going to say." + +"Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; +you can copy that if you like." +"But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?" I asked. + +"Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch," +she replied; "it will make people really think a man wrote the book. +You know I am going to take a man's name." + +"That is precisely what I imagined," said Irais. +"You will call yourself John Jones, or George Potts, +or some such sternly commonplace name, to emphasise your +uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses, +and no one will be taken in." + +"I really think, Elizabeth," said Irais to me later, +when the click of Minora's typewriter was heard hesitating +in the next room, "that you and I are writing her book for her. +She takes down everything we say. Why does she copy all +that about the baby? I wonder why mothers' knees are supposed +to be touching? I never learned anything at them, did you? +But then in my case they were only stepmother's, and nobody +ever sings their praises." + +"My mother was always at parties," I said; "and the nurse made me +say my prayers in French." + +"And as for tubs and powder," went on Irais, "when I +was a baby such things were not the fashion. There were never +any bathrooms, and no tubs; our faces and hands were washed, +and there was a foot-bath in the room, and in the summer we had +a bath and were put to bed afterwards for fear we might catch cold. +My stepmother didn't worry much; she used to wear pink dresses +all over lace, and the older she got the prettier the dresses got. +When is she going?" + +"Who? Minora? I haven't asked her that." + +"Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. +She has been here an unconscionable time,--it must be nearly three weeks." + +"Yes, she came the same day you did," I said pleasantly. + +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it +is not worse to neglect one's art than one's husband, and her +husband is lying all this time stretched on a bed of sickness, +while she is spending her days so agreeably with me. +She has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or any other business +in the world than just to stay on chatting with me, and reading, +and singing, and laughing at any one there is to laugh at, +and kissing the babies, and tilting with the Man of Wrath. +Naturally I love her--she is so pretty that anybody with eyes +in his head must love her--but too much of anything is bad, +and next month the passages and offices are to be whitewashed, +and people who have ever whitewashed their houses inside know +what nice places they are to live in while it is being done; +and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those succulent +salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. +I shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties +by inquiring every day anxiously after her husband's health. +She is not very fond of him, because he does not run and hold +the door open for her every time she gets up to leave the room; +and though she has asked him to do so, and told him how much +she wishes he would, he still won't. She stayed once in a house +where there was an Englishman, and his nimbleness in regard +to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has +had no peace since, and each time she has to go out of a room +she is reminded of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut +door is to her symbolic of the failure of her married life, +and the very sight of one makes her wonder why she was born; +at least, that is what she told me once, in a burst of confidence. +He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant to talk to, +good-tempered, and full of fun ; but he thinks he is too old +to begin to learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has +that horror of being made better by his wife that distinguishes +so many righteous men, and is shared by the Man of Wrath, +who persists in holding his glass in his left hand at meals, +because if he did not (and I don't believe he particularly +likes doing it) his relations might say that marriage has +improved him, and thus drive the iron into his soul. +This habit occasions an almost daily argument between one +or other of the babies and myself. + +"April, hold your glass in your right hand." + +"But papa doesn't." + +"When you are as old as papa you can do as you like." + +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, +"And only think how strange it would look if everybody held their glasses so." + +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. + + +January 28th.--It is very cold,--fifteen degrees of frost Reaumur, +but perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels +jolly and energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. +The two young ladies are still here, but the air is so buoyant +that even they don't weigh on me any longer, and besides, they have +both announced their approaching departure, so that after all I +shall get my whitewashing done in peace, and the house will have +on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the spring. + +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a +parting gift to the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, +and sat meekly times innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, +that I am not vain. When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried, +and at once commissioned her to paint hers, so that she may take it +away with her and give it to her husband on his birthday, which happens +to be early in February. Indeed, if it were not for this birthday, +I really think she would have forgotten to go at all; but birthdays are +great and solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by unnoticed, +and always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations +(gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, +and that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), +who stand round a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years +are offered up as a burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted +pink and white candles, stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. +The cake with its candles is the chief feature, and on the table round +it lie the gifts each person present is more or less bound to give. +As my birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as +blotting-books and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer +I should get photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; +but whatever the present may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be +welcomed with the noisiest gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, +and such words as entzuckend, reizend, herrlich, wundervoll, and suss +repeated over and over again, until the unfortunate Geburtstagskind +feels indeed that another year has gone, and that she has grown older, +and wiser, and more tired of folly and of vain repetitions. +A flag is hoisted, and all the morning the rites are celebrated, +the cake eaten, healths drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly shaken off. +The neighbouring parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their wives +count the candles in the cake; the active lady in the next Schlass spares +time to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the Gotha Almanach; +a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief inspector in white +kid gloves who invokes Heaven's blessings on the gracious lady's head; +and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner trying on all the mittens. +In the evening there is a dinner for the relations and the chief local +authorities, with more health-drinking and speechifying, and the next morning, +when I come downstairs thankful to have done with it, I am confronted +by the altar still in its place, cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, +because any hasty removal of it would imply a most lamentable want +of sentiment, deplorable in anybody, but scandalous and disgusting +in a tender female. All birthdays are observed in this fashion, and not +a few wise persons go for a short trip just about the time theirs is due, +and I think I shall imitate them next year; only trips to the country +or seaside in December are not usually pleasant, and if I go to a town +there are sure to be relations in it, and then the cake will spring up +mushroom-like from the teeming soil of their affection. + +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais +and myself are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further +proof were needed, it is furnished by the fact that we both, +in defiance of tradition, scorn this celebration of birthday rites. +Years ago, when first I knew her, and long before we were either +of us married, I sent her a little brass candlestick on her birthday; +and when mine followed a few months later, she sent me a note-book. No +notes were written in it, and on her next birthday I presented it to her; +she thanked me profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came +I received the brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy +the possession of each of these articles, and the present question is +comfortably settled once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. +We never mention this little arrangement except at the proper time, +when we send a letter of fervid thanks. + +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, +and sitting still over the fire out of the question, has been +going on for more than a week. Sleighing and skating have been +our chief occupation, especially skating, which is more than +usually fascinating here, because the place is intersected +by small canals communicating with a lake and the river belonging +to the lake, and as everything is frozen black and hard, +we can skate for miles straight ahead without being obliged +to turn round and come back again,--at all times an annoying, +and even mortifying, proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: +modesty is the only obstacle to my saying the same of myself; +but I may remark that all Germans skate well, for the simple +reason that every year of their lives, for three or four months, +they may do it as much as they like. Minora was astonished +and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and arriving at +the place where tea meets us half an hour after we had finished. +In some places the banks of the canals are so high that only our +heads appear level with the fields, and it is, as Minora noted +in her book, a curious sight to see three female heads skimming +along apparently by themselves, and enjoying it tremendously. +When the banks are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously +over the roughest ploughed fields, with or without legs +according to circumstances. Before we start, I fix on the place +where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and we drive home again; +because skating against the wind is as detestable as skating +with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its blowing +without the smallest regard for our convenience. +Yesterday, by way of a change, we went for a picnic to +the shores of the Baltic, ice-bound at this season, and utterly +desolate at our nearest point. I have a weakness for picnics, +especially in winter, when the mosquitoes cease from troubling +and the ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many favourite +picnic spots this one on the Baltic is the loveliest and best. +As it is a three-hours' drive, the Man of Wrath is loud in his +lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which means, +as experience has taught him, this particular excursion. +There must be deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; +and when, on waking up, I see these conditions fulfilled, +then it would need some very potent reason to keep me from +having out a sleigh and going off. It is, I admit, a hard day +for the horses; but why have horses if they are not to take +you where you want to go to, and at the time you want to go? +And why should not horses have hard days as well as everybody else? +The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for nature +and frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive +through a forest that does not belong to him ; a single +turnip on his own place is more admirable in his eyes than +the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that ever reared +its snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. +Now observe the superiority of woman, who sees that both +are good, and after having gazed at the pine and been made +happy by its beauty, goes home and placidly eats the turnip. +He went once and only once to this particular place, and made us +feel so small by his blast behaviour that I never invite him now. +It is a beautiful spot, endless forest stretching along the shore +as far as the eye can reach; and after driving through it for miles +you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue of arching trees, +upon the glistening, oily sea, with the orange-coloured +sails of distant fishing-smacks shilling in the sunlight. +Whenever I have been there it has been windless weather, +and the silence so profound that I could hear my pulses beating. +The humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are +the only sounds in summer, and in winter the stillness is +the stillness of death. + +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is +so infested by mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem +most natural, that those of my visitors who have been taken +there for a treat have invariably lost their tempers, and made +the quiet shores ring with their wailing and lamentations. +These despicable but irritating insects don't seem to have anything +to do but to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for any prey +Providence may send them; and as soon as the carriage appears +they rise up in a cloud, and rush to meet us, almost dragging +us out bodily, and never leave us until we drive away again. +The sudden view of the sea from the messy, pine-covered height +directly above it where we picnic; the wonderful stretch +of lonely shore with the forest to the water's edge; +the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness--all is lost upon the picnickers, +and made worse than indifferent to them, by the perpetual +necessity they are under of fighting these horrid creatures. +It is nice being the only person who ever goes there or shows +it to anybody, but if more people went, perhaps the mosquitoes +would be less lean, and hungry, and pleased to see us. +It has, however, the advantage of being a suitable place +to which to take refractory visitors when they have stayed +too long, or left my books out in the garden all night, +or otherwise made their presence a burden too grievous +to be borne; then one fine hot morning when they are all +looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on the Baltic. +I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted +with exclamations of surprise and delight. + +"The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? +How heavenly to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! +The very thought puts new life into one! And how delightful to see +the Baltic! Oh, please take us!" And then I take them. + +But on a brilliant winter's day my conscience is +as clear as the frosty air itself, and yesterday morning +we started off in the gayest of spirits, even Minora being +disposed to laugh immoderately on the least provocation. +Only our eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and +woollen wrappings necessary to our heads if we would come +back with our ears and noses in the same places they were +in when we started, and for the first two miles the mirth +created by each other's strange appearance was uproarious,-- +a fact I mention merely to show what an effect dry, bright, +intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how much better it +is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and sulk. +As we passed through the neighbouring village with cracking +of whip and jingling of bells, heads popped up at the windows +to stare, and the only living thing in the silent, +sunny street was a melancholy fowl with ruffled feathers, +which looked at us reproachfully, as we dashed with so much +energy over the crackling snow. + +"Oh, foolish bird!" Irais called out as we passed; +"you'll be indeed a cold fowl if you stand there motionless, +and every one prefers them hot in weather like this!" + +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid +joke had been made, and before we had done we were out of the village +and in the open country beyond, and could see my house and garden +far away behind, glittering in the sunshine; and in front of us lay +the forest, with its vistas of pines stretching away into infinity, +and a drive through it of fourteen miles before we reached the sea. +It was a hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted forest leading +into fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often before, +and always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the place. +For a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep blue line, +and a cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a narrow strip +of pale yellow sand; right and left the line of sparkling forest; +and we ourselves standing in a world of white and diamond traceries. +The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay on the place like a benediction. + +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, +but she thought this beat it almost. + +"I don't quite see," said Irais in a hushed voice, as though +she were in a holy place,"how the two can be compared." + +"Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course," replied Minora; +after which we turned away and thought we would keep her quiet +by feeding her, so we went back to the sleigh and had the horses +taken out and their cloths put on, and they were walked up and +down a distant glade while we sat in the sleigh and picnicked. +It is a hard day for the horses,--nearly thirty miles there and back +and no stable in the middle; but they are so fat and spoiled that it +cannot do them much harm sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. +I warmed soup in a little apparatus I have for such occasions, +which helped to take the chilliness off the sandwiches,--this is +the only unpleasant part of a winter picnic, the clammy quality of +the provisions just when you most long for something very hot. +Minora let her nose very carefully out of its wrappings, +took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She was nervous +lest it should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add that her +nose is not a bad nose, and might even be pretty on anybody else; +but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in +the angle at which one's nose is held just as in everything else, +and really noses were intended for something besides mere blowing. + +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches +with immense fur and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost +as much fur as anything, and choked exceedingly during the process. +Minora was angry at this, and at last pulled off her glove, +but quickly put it on again. + +"How very unpleasant," she remarked after swallowing a large +piece of fur. + +"It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm," said Irais. + +"Pipes!" echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. + +"I'm afraid I can't help you," I said, as she continued +to choke and splutter; "we are all in the same case, and I +don't know how to alter it." +"There are such things as forks, I suppose," snapped Minora. + +"That's true," said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; +but of what use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? +So Minora had to continue to eat her gloves. + +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind +the trees and the clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. +The old coachman was given sandwiches and soup, and while he led +the horses up and down with one hand and held his lunch in the other, +we packed up--or, to be correct, I packed, and the others looked +on and gave me valuable advice. + +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was +born on the place, and has driven its occupants for fifty years, +and I am nearly as fond of him as I am of the sun-dial; +indeed, I don't know what I should do without him, so entirely +does he appear to understand and approve of my tastes and wishes. +No drive is too long or difficult for the horses if I want +to take it, no place impossible to reach if I want to go to it, +no weather or roads too bad to prevent my going out if I wish to: +to all my suggestions he responds with the readiest cheerfulness, +and smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of Wrath, +who rewards his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking +of him as an alter Esel. In the summer, on fine evenings, +I love to drive late and alone in the scented forests, +and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit quite still, +listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune +over and over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there +are no nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, +and letting its blessedness descend into my very soul. +The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same tune, +and in the same key of (E flat). + +I don't know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is +peculiar to this particular spot. When they have sung it once, +they clear their throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, +and it is the prettiest little song in the world. How could I +indulge my passion for these drives with their pauses without Peter? +He is so used to them that he stops now at the right moment without +having to be told, and he is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, +with no sign of anything but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. +The Man of Wrath deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, +of mine; but has given up trying to prevent my indulging +them because, while he is deploring in one part of the house, +I have slipped out at a door in the other, and am gone before he can +catch me, and have reached and am lost in the shadows of the forest +by the time he has discovered that I am nowhere to be found. + +The brightness of Peter's perfections are sullied however +by one spot, and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not +only cannot hold the horses in if they don't want to be held in, +but he goes to sleep sometimes on his box if I have him out too +soon after lunch, and has upset me twice within the last year-- +once last winter out of a sleigh, and once this summer, +when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted into the ditch on +one side of the chaussee (German for high road), and the bicycle +was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too into +the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, +and the bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, +except Peter, who never lost his pleasant smile, and looked +so placid that my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth when I +tried to make it scold him. + +"But I should think he ought to have been thoroughly scolded +on an occasion like that," said Minora, to whom I had been telling +this story as we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses +were being put in the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, +whose mild head was visible between the bushes above us. +"Shall we get home before dark?" she asked. + +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very +highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were +creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull brown; +a flight of wild geese passed across the disc of the moon with loud cacklings. + +"Before dark?" echoed Irais, "I should think not. +It is dark now nearly in the forest, and we shall have +the loveliest moonlight drive back." + +"But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes +to sleep drive you," said Minora apprehensively. + +"But he's such an old dear," I said. + +"Yes, yes, no doubt," she replied tastily; ,"but there are wakeful old +dears to be had, and on a box they are preferable." + +Irais laughed. "You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora," she said. + +"He isn't on a box to-day," said I; "and I never knew him to go +to sleep standing up behind us on a sleigh." +But Minora was not to be appeased, and muttered something about +seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows how alarmed she was, +for it was rude. + +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, +and Irais and I at least were as happy as possible driving back, +with all the glories of the western sky flashing at us every +now and then at the end of a long avenue as we swiftly passed, +and later on, when they had faded, myriads of stars in the narrow +black strip of sky over our heads. It was bitterly cold, +and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to laugh +with us as she had been six hours before. + +"Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?' inquired Irais, +as we got out of the forest on to the chaussee, and the lights +of the village before ours twinkled in the distance. + +"How many degrees do you suppose there are now?" +was Minora's reply to this question. + +"Degrees?--Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold," +cried Irais solicitously. + +"Well, it isn't exactly warm, is it?" said Minora sulkily; +and Irais pinched me. "Well, but think how much colder you would +have been without all that fur you ate for lunch inside you," +she said. +"And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic," +said I. "Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English person +who has ever been to just this part of it." + +"Isn't there some English poem," said Irais, "about being +the first who ever burst--" + +"'Into that silent sea,'" finished Minora hastily. +"You can't quote that without its context, you know." + +"But I wasn't going to," said Irais meekly; "I only paused to breathe. +I must breathe, or perhaps I might die." + +The lights from my energetic friend's Schloss shone brightly down +upon us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; +she is very proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it +is the only one in the whole district. + +"Do you never go there?" asked Minora, jerking her head +in the direction of the house. + +"Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel +I was in the way if I went often." + +"It would be interesting to see another North German interior," +said Minora; "and I should be obliged if you would take me. + +"But I can't fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl," I protested; +"and we are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking +all my visitors to see her." + +"What do you want to see another interior for?" asked Irais. +"I can tell you what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak +to you, and if you were to ask questions, and began to take notes, +the good lady would stare at you in the frankest amazement, +and think Elizabeth had brought a young lunatic out for an airing. +Everybody is not as patient as Elizabeth," added Irais, anxious to pay +off old scores. + +"I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora," I said, +"but I can't do that." + +"If we went," said Irais, "Elizabeth and I would +be placed with great ceremony on a sofa behind a large, +polished oval table with a crochetmat in the centre-- +it has got a crochet-mat in the centre, hasn't it.?" I nodded. +"And you would sit on one of the four little podgy, buttony, +tasselly red chairs that are ranged on the other side of the table +facing the sofa. They are red, Elizabeth?" Again I nodded. +"The floor is painted yellow, and there is no carpet except +a rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark chocolate colour, +almost black; that is in order that after years of use the dirt +may not show, and the room need not be done up. +Dirt is like wickedness, you see, Miss Minora--its being +there never matters; it is only when it shows so much +as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. +At intervals round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with +lamps on them, and in one corner is a great white cold stove-- +or is it majolica?" she asked, turning to me. + +"No, it is white." + +"There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let +in the air and the sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown +lace curtains under heavy stuff ones as though a whole row of houses +were just opposite, with peering eyes at every window trying to look in, +instead of there only being fields, and trees, and birds. No fire, +no sunlight, no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage +coming up under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds." + +"When did you go there?" asked Minora. + +"Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? +I have been calling there all my life." + +Minora's eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the depths +of her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark eyelashes, +and far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself is fine, +but they are put in all wrong. + +"The only thing you would learn there," went on Irais, "would be +the significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went +there together, I should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, +because it is the place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; +Elizabeth would be invited to seat herself in the left-hand corner, +as next in importance; the hostess would sit near us in an arm-chair; +and you, as a person of no importance whatever, would either be +left to sit where you could, or would be put on a chair facing us, +and with the entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense +social gulf that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. +These sofa corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible +in a way that nothing else could. The world might come to an end, +and create less sensation in doing it, than you would, Miss Minora, +if by any chance you got into the right-hand corner of one. +That you are put on a chair on the other side of the table places +you at once in the scale of precedence, and exactly defines your +social position, or rather your complete want of a social position." +And Irais tilted her nose ever so little heavenwards. + +"Note it," she added, "as the heading of your next chapter." + +"Note what?" asked Minora impatiently. + +"Why,'The Subtle Significance of Sofas', of course," replied Irais. +"If," she continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this suggestion, +"you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues the innocent +would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the distracted mistress +of the house would keep you waiting in the cold room so long while she +changed her dress, that you would begin to fear you were to be left to perish +from want and hunger; and when she did appear, would show by the bitterness +of her welcoming smile the rage that was boiling in her heart." + +"But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing? " + +"What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent-- +pardon my familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs +is very touching in one who is writing a book about them. " + +"Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant," said Minora loftily. + +"Seasons of washing," explained Irais, "are seasons set apart +by the Hausfrau to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, +and while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every other +consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into insignificance, +and no one approaching, or interfering with the mistress of the house during +these days of purification, but at their peril." + +"You Don't Really Mean," Said Minora, "that You Only Wash Your Clothes +Four Times A Year? + +"Yes, I do mean it," replied Irais. + +"Well, I think that is very disgusting," said Minora emphatically. + +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. +"Then you must take care and not marry a German," she said. + +"But what is the object of it?" went on Minora. + +"Why, to clean the linen, I suppose." + +"Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?" + +"It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape +of linen. If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, +as you do in England, you would be put down as a person who only has +just enough to last that length of time, and would be an object +of general contempt." + +"But I should be a clean object," cried Minora, "and my house +would not be full of accumulated dirt." + +We said nothing--there was nothing to be said. + +"It must be a happy land, that England of yours," +Irais remarked after a while with a sigh--a beatific vision no +doubt presenting itself to her mind of a land full of washerwomen +and agile gentlemen darting at door-handles. + +"It is a clean land, at any rate," replied Minora. + +"I don't want to go and live in it," I said--for we were +driving up to the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came +into my mind as I looked up fondly at its dear old west front, +and I felt that what I want is to live and die just here, +and that there never was such a happy woman as Elizabeth. + + +April 18th.--I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying +on its green and flowered petticoat--only its petticoat as yet, +for though the underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, +the trees above are still quite bare. + +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, +so deeply was I engaged in making hot-beds, and having +them sown with petunias, verbenas, and nicotina affinis; +while no less than thirty are dedicated solely to vegetables, +it having been borne in upon me lately that vegetables +must be interesting things to grow, besides possessing +solid virtues not given to flowers, and that I might as +well take the orchard and kitchen garden under my wing. +So I have rushed in with all the zeal of utter inexperience, +and my February evenings were spent poring over gardening books, +and my days in applying the freshly absorbed wisdom. +Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the country? +It was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, +and its mild days enabled me to get on beautifully with +the digging and manuring, and filled my rooms with snowdrops. +The longer I live the greater is my respect and affection +for manure in all its forms, and already, though the year +is so young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been +spent on artificial manure. The Man of Wrath says +he never met a young woman who spent her money that way before; +I remarked that it must be nice to have an original wife; +and he retorted that the word original hardly described me, +and that the word eccentric was the one required. Very well, +I suppose I am eccentric, since even my husband says so; +but if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature +as to result later in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest +lettuce in Prussia, why then he ought to be the first to rise +up and call me blessed. + +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they +are not grown here, and people try and make boiled cucumbers +take their place; but boiled cucumbers are nasty things, +and I don't see why marrows should not do here perfectly well. +These, and primrose-roots, are the English contributions to my garden. +I brought over the roots in a tin box last time I came from England, +and am anxious to see whether they will consent to live here. +Certain it is that they don't exist in the Fatherland, so I can +only conclude the winter kills them, for surely, if such lovely +things would grow, they never would have been overlooked. +Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so many +English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they have +got so mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and Disraelis, +that she longs to see this mysterious political flower, and has made +me promise to telegraph when it appears, and she will come over. +Bur they are not going to do anything this year, and I only hope +those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of flowers. +I am afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. + +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden +and the babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as +the numerous relations staying with her have left,--"which they won't do," +she wrote the other day, "until the first frosts nip them off, +when they will disappear like belated dahlias--double ones of course, +for single dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations. +I have every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and here they have +been ever since my husband's birthday--not the same ones exactly, but I +get so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. +My husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, +and I am left at their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at-- +I should be grateful even for one, and would look at it from morning +till night, and quite stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay +at home and have the truth told me by enigmatic aunts. Do you know +my Aunt Bertha? she, in particular, spends her time propounding obscure +questions for my solution. I get so tired and worried trying to guess +the answers, which are always truths supposed to be good for me to hear. +'Why do you wear your hair on your forehead?' she asks,--and that sets me off +wondering why I do wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to know for, +or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer truthfully. +'I am sure I don't know, aunt,' I say meekly, after puzzling over it +for ever so long; 'perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring and ask her?' +And then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly line she says +I have down the middle of my forehead, and that betokens a listless and +discontented disposition. Well, if she knew, what did she ask me for? +Whenever I am with them they ask me riddles like that, and I simply lead +a dog's life. Oh, my dear, relations are like drugs,--useful sometimes, +and even pleasant, if taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully +pernicious on the whole, and the truly wise avoid them." + +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, +in which she thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending +me a bottle of English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; +that it was wonderful stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that it +cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. +Was it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at her? +Was she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was it merely +Minora's idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for bruises, +nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing exercise, +and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she did happen +to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of tumbling +down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly veiled +by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps, +received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; +I had been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, +but the best of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his +own use. +But why waste a thought on Minora at Easter, +the real beginning of the year in defiance of calendars. +She belongs to the winter that is past, to the darkness +that is over, and has no part or lot in the life I shall lead +for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for joy +that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty +there is in my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! +The whole of this radiant Easter day I have spent out of doors, +sitting at first among the windflowers and celandines, +and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald, +to see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon +was so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up +through the leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, +fat little white clouds floating motionless in the blue. +We had tea on the grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, +and the babies were in bed, and all the little wind-flowers +folded up for the night, I still wandered in the green paths, +my heart full of happiest gratitude. It makes one very humble +to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of beauty and +perfection anonymously lavished, and to think of the infinite +meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we +are if they are not promptly and properly appreciated. +I do sincerely trust that the benediction that is always +awaiting me in my garden may by degrees be more deserved, +and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and cheerfulness, +just like the happy flowers I so much love. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Elizabeth and her German Garden + diff --git a/old/old/lzgdn10.zip b/old/old/lzgdn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce670b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/lzgdn10.zip diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-06-16/1327-0.txt b/old/old/old-2024-06-16/1327-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c84b7b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-06-16/1327-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5128 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Elizabeth and her German Garden, by +Elizabeth Von Arnim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Elizabeth and her German Garden + +Author: Elizabeth Von Arnim, [AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp] + +Release Date: May, 1998 [eBook #1327] +[Most recently updated: August 7, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: R. McGowan + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN +GARDEN *** + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + +By Elizabeth Von Arnim + + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION + + +Originally published in 1898, “Elizabeth and her German Garden” is the +first book by Marie Annette Beauchamp—known all her life as +“Elizabeth”. The book, anonymously published, was an incredible +success, going through printing after printing by several publishers +over the next few years. (I myself own three separate early editions of +this book by different publishers on both sides of the Atlantic.) The +present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated deluxe +MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. + +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer Katherine Mansfield +(whose real name was Kathleen Mansfield Beauchamp). Born in Australia, +Elizabeth was educated in England. She was reputed to be a fine +organist and musician. At a young age, she captured the heart of a +German Count, was persuaded to marry him, and went to live in Germany. +Over the next years she bore five daughters. After her husband’s death +and the decline of the estate, she returned to England. She was a +friend to many of high social standing, including people such as H. G. +Wells (who considered her one of the finest wits of the day). Some time +later she married the brother of Bertrand Russell; which marriage was a +failure and ended in divorce. Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at +the outbreak of the Second World War, and there died in 1941. + +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name “Elizabeth von +Arnim”, author of “The Enchanted April” which was recently made into a +successful film by the same title. Another of her books, “Mr. +Skeffington” was also once made into a film starring Bette Davis, circa +1940. + +Some of Elizabeth’s work is published in modern editions by Virago and +other publishers. Among these are: “Love”, “The Enchanted April”, +“Caravaners”, “Christopher and Columbus”, “The Pastor’s Wife”, “Mr. +Skeffington”, “The Solitary Summer”, and “Elizabeth’s Adventures in +Rugen”. Also published by Virago is her non-autobiography “All the Dogs +of My Life”—as the title suggests, it is the story not of her life, but +of the lives of the many dogs she owned; though of course it does touch +upon her own experiences. + +In the centennial year of this book’s first publication, I hope that +its availability through Project Gutenberg will stir some renewed +interest in Elizabeth and her delightful work. She is, I would venture, +my favorite author; and I hope that soon she will be one of your +favorites. + +R. McGowan San Jose, April 11 1998. + + + + +ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN + + + + +_May_ 7_th_.—I love my garden. I am writing in it now in the late +afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes and the +temptation to look at all the glories of the new green leaves washed +half an hour ago in a cold shower. Two owls are perched near me, and are +carrying on a long conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of +nightingales. The gentleman owl says [Music], and she answers from her +tree a little way off, [Music], beautifully assenting to and completing +her lord’s remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. +They say the same thing over and over again so emphatically that I think +it must be something nasty about me; but I shall not let myself be +frightened away by the sarcasm of owls. + +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived in the house, +much less in the garden, for twenty-five years, and it is such a pretty +old place that the people who might have lived here and did not, +deliberately preferring the horrors of a flat in a town, must have +belonged to that vast number of eyeless and earless persons of whom the +world seems chiefly composed. Noseless too, though it does not sound +pretty; but the greater part of my spring happiness is due to the scent +of the wet earth and young leaves. + +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are +servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring +happiness bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though +it is not more intense, and there were days last winter when I danced +for sheer joy out in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and +children. But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the +decencies. + +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches +sweeping the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white +blossoms and tenderest green that the garden looks like a wedding. I +never saw such masses of them; they seemed to fill the place. Even +across a little stream that bounds the garden on the east, and right in +the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is an immense one, a picture +of grace and glory against the cold blue of the spring sky. + +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, and beyond are great +stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, and where the forests leave +off the bare heath begins again; but the forests are beautiful in their +lofty, pink-stemmed vastness, far overhead the crowns of softest +gray-green, and underfoot a bright green wortleberry carpet, and +everywhere the breathless silence; and the bare heaths are beautiful +too, for one can see across them into eternity almost, and to go out on +to them with one’s face towards the setting sun is like going into the +very presence of God. + +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of bird-cherries and greenery +where I spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray +stone house with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. The +house is very old, and has been added to at various times. It was a +convent before the Thirty Years’ War, and the vaulted chapel, with its +brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, is now used as a hall. +Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more than once, as is +duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what was then +the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. The Lion +of the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly up to +his convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, who +were not without convictions of their own, sending them out on to the +wide, empty plain to piteously seek some life to replace the life of +silence here. + +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out across the +plain, with no obstacle in the shape of a hill, right away to a blue +line of distant forest, and on the west side uninterruptedly to the +setting sun—nothing but a green, rolling plain, with a sharp edge +against the sunset. I love those west windows better than any others, +and have chosen my bedroom on that side of the house so that even times +of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the young woman who +attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties about a +mistress recumbent in an easy-chair before an open window, and not to +profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. This girl is grieved +at my habit of living almost in the garden, and all her ideas as to the +sort of life a respectable German lady should lead have got into a sad +muddle since she came to me. The people round about are persuaded that +I am, to put it as kindly as possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the +news has travelled that I spend the day out of doors with a book, and +that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew or cook. But why cook when +you can get some one to cook for you? And as for sewing, the maids will +hem the sheets better and quicker than I could, and all forms of +needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for +keeping the foolish from applying their heart to wisdom. + +We had been married five years before it struck us that we might as +well make use of this place by coming down and living in it. Those five +years were spent in a flat in a town, and during their whole +interminable length I was perfectly miserable and perfectly healthy, +which disposes of the ugly notion that has at times disturbed me that +my happiness here is less due to the garden than to a good digestion. +And while we were wasting our lives there, here was this dear place +with dandelions up to the very door, all the paths grass-grown and +completely effaced, in winter so lonely, with nobody but the north wind +taking the least notice of it, and in May—in all those five lovely +Mays—no one to look at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more +wonderful masses of lilacs, everything glowing and blowing, the +virginia creeper madder every year, until at last, in October, the very +roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, the owls and the squirrels +and all the blessed little birds reigning supreme, and not a living +creature ever entering the empty house except the snakes, which got +into the habit during those silent years of wriggling up the south wall +into the rooms on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the +windows. All that was here,—peace, and happiness, and a reasonable +life,—and yet it never struck me to come and live in it. Looking back I +am astonished, and can in no way account for the tardiness of my +discovery that here, in this far-away corner, was my kingdom of heaven. +Indeed, so little did it enter my head to even use the place in summer, +that I submitted to weeks of seaside life with all its horrors every +year; until at last, in the early spring of last year, having come down +for the opening of the village school, and wandering out afterwards +into the bare and desolate garden, I don’t know what smell of wet earth +or rotting leaves brought back my childhood with a rush and all the +happy days I had spent in a garden. Shall I ever forget that day? It +was the beginning of my real life, my coming of age as it were, and +entering into my kingdom. Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, +quiet earth; leafless and sad and lonely enough out there in the damp +and silence, yet there I stood feeling the same rapture of pure delight +in the first breath of spring that I used to as a child, and the five +wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and the world was full of hope, +and I vowed myself then and there to nature, and have been happy ever +since. + +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought perhaps that +it might be as well to look after the place, consented to live in it at +any rate for a time; whereupon followed six specially blissful weeks +from the end of April into June, during which I was here alone, +supposed to be superintending the painting and papering, but as a +matter of fact only going into the house when the workmen had gone out +of it. + +How happy I was! I don’t remember any time quite so perfect since the +days when I was too little to do lessons and was turned out with sugar +on my eleven o’clock bread and butter on to a lawn closely strewn with +dandelions and daisies. The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its +charm, but I love the dandelions and daisies even more passionately now +than then, and never would endure to see them all mown away if I were +not certain that in a day or two they would be pushing up their little +faces again as jauntily as ever. During those six weeks I lived in a +world of dandelions and delights. The dandelions carpeted the three +lawns,—they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed out into +meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,—and under and among the +groups of leafless oaks and beeches were blue hepaticas, white +anemones, violets, and celandines in sheets. The celandines in +particular delighted me with their clean, happy brightness, so +beautifully trim and newly varnished, as though they too had had the +painters at work on them. Then, when the anemones went, came a few +stray periwinkles and Solomon’s Seal, and all the bird-cherries +blossomed in a burst. And then, before I had a little got used to the +joy of their flowers against the sky, came the lilacs—masses and masses +of them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees by the +side of walks, and one great continuous bank of them half a mile long +right past the west front of the house, away down as far as one could +see, shining glorious against a background of firs. When that time +came, and when, before it was over, the acacias all blossomed too, and +four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies flowered under the +south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, and thankful, and +grateful, that I really cannot describe it. My days seemed to melt away +in a dream of pink and purple peace. + +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, so +that on the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge what my +other half calls my _fantaisie déréglée_ as regards meals—that is to +say, meals so simple that they could be brought out to the lilacs on a +tray; and I lived, I remember, on salad and bread and tea the whole +time, sometimes a very tiny pigeon appearing at lunch to save me, as +the old lady thought, from starvation. Who but a woman could have stood +salad for six weeks, even salad sanctified by the presence and scent of +the most gorgeous lilac masses? I did, and grew in grace every day, +though I have never liked it since. How often now, oppressed by the +necessity of assisting at three dining-room meals daily, two of which +are conducted by the functionaries held indispensable to a proper +maintenance of the family dignity, and all of which are pervaded by +joints of meat, how often do I think of my salad days, forty in number, +and of the blessedness of being alone as I was then alone! + +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house was +left to emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered up +her rheumatic limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another +part of the house had been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave +the friendly frogs and owls, and with my heart somewhere down in my +shoes lock the door to the garden behind me, and pass through the long +series of echoing south rooms full of shadows and ladders and ghostly +pails of painters’ mess, and humming a tune to make myself believe I +liked it, go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the +creaking stairs, down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final +rush of panic whisk into my room and double lock and bolt the door! + +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great +dinner-bell to bed with me so that at least I might be able to make a +noise if frightened in the night, though what good it would have been I +don’t know, as there was no one to hear. The housemaid slept in another +little cell opening out of mine, and we two were the only living +creatures in the great empty west wing. She evidently did not believe +in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell asleep immediately after +getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, “_mais je les redoute_,” as +a French lady said, who from her books appears to have been +strongminded. + +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it comforted +me to see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights were anything but +placid, it was all so strange, and there were such queer creakings and +other noises. I used to lie awake for hours, startled out of a light +sleep by the cracking of some board, and listen to the indifferent +snores of the girl in the next room. In the morning, of course, I was +as brave as a lion and much amused at the cold perspirations of the +night before; but even the nights seem to me now to have been +delightful, and myself like those historic boys who heard a voice in +every wind and snatched a fearful joy. I would gladly shiver through +them all over again for the sake of the beautiful purity of the house, +empty of servants and upholstery. + +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful +new papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and +build all sorts of castles in the air about their future and their +past. Would the nuns who had lived in them know their little +white-washed cells again, all gay with delicate flower papers and clean +white paint? And how astonished they would be to see cell No. 14 turned +into a bathroom, with a bath big enough to insure a cleanliness of body +equal to their purity of soul! They would look upon it as a snare of +the tempter; and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked +at the blackness of my nails the day that I began to lose the first +whiteness of my soul by falling in love at fifteen with the parish +organist, or rather with the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and +fiery moustache which was all I ever saw of him, and which I loved to +distraction for at least six months; at the end of which time, going +out with my governess one day, I passed him in the street, and +discovered that his unofficial garb was a frock-coat combined with a +turn-down collar and a “bowler” hat, and never loved him any more. + +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I +had not a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. +Then he appeared suddenly who has a right to appear when and how he +will and rebuked me for never having written, and when I told him that +I had been literally too happy to think of writing, he seemed to take +it as a reflection on himself that I could be happy alone. I took him +round the garden along the new paths I had had made, and showed him the +acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was the purest +selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring were with +me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. I tried to appease +him by offering him the whole of my salad and toast supper which stood +ready at the foot of the little verandah steps when we came back, but +nothing appeased that Man of Wrath, and he said he would go straight +back to the neglected family. So he went; and the remainder of the +precious time was disturbed by twinges of conscience (to which I am +much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump for joy. I went +to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me to look +at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; I +criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day than I had done +in all the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; but I +could not manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your +conscience is clear and your liver in order and the sun is shining? + +_May_ 10_th_.—I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening and +this year know very little more, but I have dawnings of what may be +done, and have at least made one great stride—from ipomæa to tea-roses. + +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all round the house, but +the principal part is on the south side and has evidently always been +so. The south front is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one +into the other, and the walls are covered with virginia creeper. There +is a little verandah in the middle, leading by a flight of rickety +wooden steps down into what seems to have been the only spot in the +whole place that was ever cared for. This is a semicircle cut into the +lawn and edged with privet, and in this semicircle are eleven beds of +different sizes bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, and +the sun-dial is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by +me. These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening to be +seen (except a solitary crocus that came up all by itself each spring +in the grass, not because it wanted to, but because it could not help +it), and these I had sown with ipomæa, the whole eleven, having found a +German gardening book, according to which ipomæa in vast quantities was +the one thing needful to turn the most hideous desert into a paradise. +Nothing else in that book was recommended with anything like the same +warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity of seed necessary, +I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown not only in the eleven beds +but round nearly every tree, and then waited in great agitation for the +promised paradise to appear. It did not, and I learned my first lesson. + +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweet-peas which made me very +happy all the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few +hollyhocks under the south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. But +the lilies, after being transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, +for how was I to know it was the way of lilies? And the hollyhocks +turned out to be rather ugly colours, so that my first summer was +decorated and beautified solely by sweet-peas. At present we are only +just beginning to breathe after the bustle of getting new beds and +borders and paths made in time for this summer. The eleven beds round +the sun-dial are filled with roses, but I see already that I have made +mistakes with some. As I have not a living soul with whom to hold +communion on this or indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is +by making mistakes. All eleven were to have been carpeted with purple +pansies, but finding that I had not enough and that nobody had any to +sell me, only six have got their pansies, the others being sown with +dwarf mignonette. Two of the eleven are filled with Marie van Houtte +roses, two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette Messimy, one +with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, two with +Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind the sun-dial with +three sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), Duke of Teck, Cheshunt +Scarlet, and Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, I am sure, a mistake, and +several of the others are, I think, but of course I must wait and see, +being such an ignorant person. Then I have had two long beds made in +the grass on either side of the semicircle, each sown with mignonette, +and one filled with Marie van Houtte, and the other with Jules Finger +and the Bride; and in a warm corner under the drawing-room windows is a +bed of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and Comtesse Riza du Parc; +while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north and west by a +group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, containing Rubens, +Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hen. Edith Gifford. All these roses are +dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, two Madame George +Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. How I long for the day when +the tea-roses open their buds! Never did I look forward so intensely to +anything; and every day I go the rounds, admiring what the dear little +things have achieved in the twenty-four hours in the way of new leaf or +increase of lovely red shoot. + +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south +windows in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot of +which I have sown two long borders of sweet-peas facing the rose beds, +so that my roses may have something almost as sweet as themselves to +look at until the autumn, when everything is to make place for more +tea-roses. The path leading away from this semicircle down the garden +is bordered with China roses, white and pink, with here and there a +Persian Yellow. I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I have +misgivings as to the effect of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, +for the Chinas are such wee little baby things, and the Persian Yellows +look as though they intended to be big bushes. + +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the +least understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward to the +flowering of these roses, and not a German gardening book that does not +relegate all tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning them for life, and +depriving them for ever of the breath of God. It was no doubt because I +was so ignorant that I rushed in where Teutonic angels fear to tread +and made my tea-roses face a northern winter; but they did face it +under fir branches and leaves, and not one has suffered, and they are +looking to-day as happy and as determined to enjoy themselves as any +roses, I am sure, in Europe. + + + + +_May_ 14_th_.—To-day I am writing on the verandah with the three +babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, and already +several of the thirty fingers have been in the ink-pot and the owners +consoled when duty pointed to rebukes. But who can rebuke such penitent +and drooping sunbonnets? I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores +and nimble black legs. + +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, and the +gardener’s assistant, are the only people who ever go into my garden, +but then neither are we ever out of it. The gardener has been here a +year and has given me notice regularly on the first of every month, but +up to now has been induced to stay on. On the first of this month he +came as usual, and with determination written on every feature told me +he intended to go in June, and that nothing should alter his decision. +I don’t think he knows much about gardening, but he can at least dig +and water, and some of the things he sows come up, and some of the +plants he plants grow, besides which he is the most unflaggingly +industrious person I ever saw, and has the great merit of never +appearing to take the faintest interest in what we do in the garden. So +I have tried to keep him on, not knowing what the next one may be like, +and when I asked him what he had to complain of and he replied +“Nothing,” I could only conclude that he has a personal objection to me +because of my eccentric preference for plants in groups rather than +plants in lines. Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts from +gardening books I read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing +something new. Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead +of explaining, to take the book itself out to him and let him have +wisdom at its very source, administering it in doses while he worked. I +quite recognise that this must be annoying, and only my anxiety not to +lose a whole year through some stupid mistake has given me the courage +to do it. I laugh sometimes behind the book at his disgusted face, and +wish we could be photographed, so that I may be reminded in twenty +years’ time, when the garden is a bower of loveliness and I learned in +all its ways, of my first happy struggles and failures. + +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the +autumn into their permanent places, and all through April he went about +with a long piece of string making parallel lines down the borders of +beautiful exactitude and arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a +review. Two long borders were done during my absence one day, and when +I explained that I should like the third to have plants in groups and +not in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural effect with no bare +spaces of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily hopeless than +usual; and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he had +planted two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little +lines of five plants in a row—first five pinks, and next to them five +rockets, and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five +rockets, and so on with different plants of every sort and size down to +the end. When I protested, he said he had only carried out my orders +and had known it would not look well; so I gave in, and the remaining +borders were done after the pattern of the first two, and I will have +patience and see how they look this summer, before digging them up +again; for it becomes beginners to be humble. + +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, besides being so +fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where you want them and put +in your plants exactly as you choose instead of giving orders that can +only be half understood from the moment you depart from the lines laid +down by that long piece of string! In the first ecstasy of having a +garden all my own, and in my burning impatience to make the waste +places blossom like a rose, I did one warm Sunday in last year’s April +during the servants’ dinner hour, doubly secure from the gardener by +the day and the dinner, slink out with a spade and a rake and +feverishly dig a little piece of ground and break it up and sow +surreptitious ipomæa, and run back very hot and guilty into the house, +and get into a chair and behind a book and look languid just in time to +save my reputation. And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one +hot; but it is a blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in +Paradise and known what to do with it, we should not have had all that +sad business of the apple. + +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, birds, +and flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town +acquaintances look upon it as imprisonment, and burying, and I don’t +know what besides, and would rend the air with their shrieks if +condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel as if I were blest above all +my fellows in being able to find my happiness so easily. I believe I +should always be good if the sun always shone, and could enjoy myself +very well in Siberia on a fine day. And what can life in town offer in +the way of pleasure to equal the delight of any one of the calm +evenings I have had this month sitting alone at the foot of the +verandah steps, with the perfume of young larches all about, and the +May moon hanging low over the beeches, and the beautiful silence made +only more profound in its peace by the croaking of distant frogs and +hooting of owls? A cockchafer darting by close to my ear with a loud +hum sends a shiver through me, partly of pleasure at the reminder of +past summers, and partly of fear lest he should get caught in my hair. +The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be +killed. I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer +and not crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning of +all the fun. + +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. My eldest baby, born in +April, is five years old, and the youngest, born in June, is three; so +that the discerning will at once be able to guess the age of the +remaining middle or May baby. While I was stooping over a group of +hollyhocks planted on the top of the only thing in the shape of a hill +the garden possesses, the April baby, who had been sitting pensive on a +tree stump close by, got up suddenly and began to run aimlessly about, +shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. I +stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw that a whole +army of young cows, pasturing in a field next to the garden, had got +through the hedge and were grazing perilously near my tea-roses and +most precious belongings. The nurse and I managed to chase them away, +but not before they had trampled down a border of pinks and lilies in +the cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed of China roses, and +even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am trying to +persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener happened to be +ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers—as Lutheran Germany calls +afternoon tea or its equivalent—so the nurse filled up the holes as +well as she could with mould, burying the crushed and mangled roses, +cheated for ever of their hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking +on dejectedly. The June baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond +her size and years, seized a stick much bigger than herself and went +after the cows, the cowherd being nowhere to be seen. She planted +herself in front of them brandishing her stick, and they stood in a row +and stared at her in great astonishment; and she kept them off until +one of the men from the farm arrived with a whip, and having found the +cowherd sleeping peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. The +cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger than the man who beat +him, but he took his punishment as part of the day’s work and made no +remark of any sort. It could not have hurt him much through his leather +breeches, and I think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work +for a strong young man with no brains looking after cows. Nobody with +less imagination than a poet ought to take it up as a profession. + +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two with +as many hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, +and while we were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I +happened to look up into its mazy green, and there, on a branch quite +close to my head, sat a little baby owl. I got on the seat and caught +it easily, for it could not fly, and how it had reached the branch at +all is a mystery. It is a little round ball of gray fluff, with the +quaintest, wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let it go, +but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present on a +journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often said how +much he would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. So I put it +into a roomy cage and slung it up on a branch near where it had been +sitting, and which cannot be far from its nest and its mother. We had +hardly subsided again to our tea when I saw two more balls of fluff on +the ground in the long grass and scarcely distinguishable at a little +distance from small mole-hills. These were promptly united to their +relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath comes home, not +only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox smiles, +but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take +them from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some +day—perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. I +put a small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have +tasted water yet unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. +I suppose they get all the liquid they need from the bodies of the mice +and other dainties provided for them by their fond parents. But the +raindrop idea is prettier. + + + + +_May_ 15_th_.—How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls into +a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never +pander to the Man of Wrath’s wishes again. This morning I got up early +to see how they were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide +open and no owls to be seen. I thought of course that somebody had +stolen them—some boy from the village, or perhaps the chastised +cowherd. But looking about I saw one perched high up in the branches of +the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead on the ground. The +third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its nest. The +parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance they got +the door open, and then dragged the little ones out and up into the +tree. The one that is dead must have been blown off the branch, as it +was a windy night and its neck is broken. There is one happy life less +in the garden to-day through my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm +day—just the sort of weather for young soft things to enjoy and grow +in. The babies are greatly distressed, and are digging a grave, and +preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. + +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out I +breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give +him the owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry +I was they were gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on +after the voluble manner of women. + +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, “I am surprised +at such cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had +never done you any harm.” + +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than +ever that he sang true who sang— + +Two paradises ’twere in one to live in Paradise alone. + + + + +_May_ 16_th_.—The garden is the place I go to for refuge and shelter, +not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, servants to +exhort and admonish, furniture, and meals; but out there blessings +crowd round me at every step—it is there that I am sorry for the +unkindness in me, for those selfish thoughts that are so much worse +than they feel; it is there that all my sins and silliness are +forgiven, there that I feel protected and at home, and every flower and +weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been vexed I run +out to them for comfort, and when I have been angry without just cause, +it is there that I find absolution. Did ever a woman have so many +friends? And always the same, always ready to welcome me and fill me +with cheerful thoughts. Happy children of a common Father, why should +I, their own sister, be less content and joyous than they? Even in a +thunder storm, when other people are running into the house, I run out +of it. I do not like thunder storms—they frighten me for hours before +they come, because I always feel them on the way; but it is odd that I +should go for shelter to the garden. I feel better there, more taken +care of, more petted. When it thunders, the April baby says, “There’s +_lieber Gott_ scolding those angels again.” And once, when there was a +storm in the night, she complained loudly, and wanted to know why +_lieber Gott_ didn’t do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so +_tight_ asleep. They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and +English, adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting in +English words in the middle of a German sentence. It always reminds me +of Justice tempered by Mercy. + +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by the name +of the Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground of +innumerable deer who fight there in the autumn evenings, calling each +other out to combat with bayings that ring through the silence and send +agreeable shivers through the lonely listener. I often walk there in +September, late in the evening, and sitting on a fallen tree listen +fascinated to their angry cries. + +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had never seen +such things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. The Hirschwald is +a little open wood of silver birches and springy turf starred with +flowers, and there is a tiny stream meandering amiably about it and +decking itself in June with yellow flags. I have dreams of having a +little cottage built there, with the daisies up to the door, and no +path of any sort—just big enough to hold myself and one baby inside and +a purple clematis outside. Two rooms—a bedroom and a kitchen. How +scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! I know +the exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, so that we +should get all the cheerfulness of the morning, and close to the +stream, so that we might wash our plates among the flags. Sometimes, +when in the mood for society, we would invite the remaining babies to +tea and entertain them with wild strawberries on plates of +horse-chestnut leaves; but no one less innocent and easily pleased than +a baby would be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny +cottage—indeed, I don’t suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. +Wise people want so many things before they can even begin to enjoy +themselves, and I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, for only +being able to offer them that which I love best myself—apologetic, and +ashamed of being so easily contented. + +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town (it took us the +whole afternoon to get there) the women after dinner were curious to +know how I had endured the winter, cut off from everybody and snowed up +sometimes for weeks. + +“Ah, these husbands!” sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking her +head; “they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don’t care +what their sufferings are.” + +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady +was a great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful +husband had brought his young wife into the country and had kept her +there, concealing her beauty and accomplishments from the public in a +most cruel manner, and how, after spending a certain number of years in +alternately weeping and producing progeny, she had quite lately run +away with somebody unspeakable—I think it was the footman, or the +baker, or some one of that sort. + +“But I am quite happy,” I began, as soon as I could put in a word. + +“Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it,” and the female +potentate patted my hand, but continued gloomily to shake her head. + +“You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone,” asserted +another lady, the wife of a high military authority and not accustomed +to be contradicted. + +“But I am.” + +“But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible.” + +“But I _am_.” + +“Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter.” + +“But I don’t want to be brought to town.” + +“And not let you waste your best years buried.” + +“But I like being buried.” + +“Such solitude is not right.” + +“But I’m not solitary.” + +“And can come to no good.” She was getting quite angry. + +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, and renewed +shaking of heads. + +“I enjoyed the winter immensely,” I persisted when they were a little +quieter; “I sleighed and skated, and then there were the children, and +shelves and shelves full of—” I was going to say books, but stopped. +Reading is an occupation for men; for women it is reprehensible waste +of time. And how could I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the +sun shone on the snow, or of the deep delight of hoar-frost days? + +“It is entirely my doing that we have come down here,” I proceeded, +“and my husband only did it to please me.” + +“Such a good little wife,” repeated the patronising potentate, again +patting my hand with an air of understanding all about it, “really an +excellent little wife. But you must not let your husband have his own +way too much, my dear, and take my advice and insist on his bringing +you to town next winter.” And then they fell to talking about their +cooks, having settled to their entire satisfaction that my fate was +probably lying in wait for me too, lurking perhaps at that very moment +behind the apparently harmless brass buttons of the man in the hall +with my cloak. + +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction +when we reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the +pretty old house; and when I went into the library, with its four +windows open to the moonlight and the scent, and looked round at the +familiar bookshelves, and could hear no sounds but sounds of peace, and +knew that here I might read or dream or idle exactly as I chose with +never a creature to disturb me, how grateful I felt to the kindly Fate +that has brought me here and given me a heart to understand my own +blessedness, and rescued me from a life like that I had just seen—a +life spent with the odours of other people’s dinners in one’s nostrils, +and the noise of their wrangling servants in one’s ears, and parties +and tattle for all amusement. + +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed when some +grand person, examining the details of my home through her eyeglass, +and coolly dissecting all that I so much prize from the convenient +distance of the open window, has finished up by expressing sympathy +with my loneliness, and on my protesting that I like it, has murmured, +“_sehr anspruchslos_.” Then indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness +of my wants; but only for a moment, and only under the withering +influence of the eyeglass; for, after all, the owner’s spirit is the +same spirit as that which dwells in my servants—girls whose one idea of +happiness is to live in a town where there are others of their sort +with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. The passion for +being for ever with one’s fellows, and the fear of being left for a few +hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. I can entertain myself +quite well for weeks together, hardly aware, except for the pervading +peace, that I have been alone at all. Not but what I like to have +people staying with me for a few days, or even for a few weeks, should +they be as _anspruchslos_ as I am myself, and content with simple joys; +only, any one who comes here and would be happy must have something in +him; if he be a mere blank creature, empty of head and heart, he will +very probably find it dull. I should like my house to be often full if +I could find people capable of enjoying themselves. They should be +welcomed and sped with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to +confess that, though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just +as much to see them go. + +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually longed +for some one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. There has +been rain in the night, and the whole garden seems to be singing—not +the untiring birds only, but the vigorous plants, the happy grass and +trees, the lilac bushes—oh, those lilac bushes! They are all out +to-day, and the garden is drenched with the scent. I have brought in +armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every pot and bowl and tub +in the house is filled with purple glory, and the servants think there +is going to be a party and are extra nimble, and I go from room to room +gazing at the sweetness, and the windows are all flung open so as to +join the scent within to the scent without; and the servants gradually +discover that there is no party, and wonder why the house should be +filled with flowers for one woman by herself, and I long more and more +for a kindred spirit—it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to +oneself—but kindred spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as +well cry for the moon. It is true that my garden is full of friends, +only they are—dumb. + + + + +_June_ 3_rd_.—This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that +it requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus +delivered from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, +or people who love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to +be deterred from coming by the roundabout train journey and the long +drive at the end. Not the least of my many blessings is that we have +only one neighbour. If you have to have neighbours at all, it is at +least a mercy that there should be only one; for with people dropping +in at all hours and wanting to talk to you, how are you to get on with +your life, I should like to know, and read your books, and dream your +dreams to your satisfaction? Besides, there is always the certainty +that either you or the dropper-in will say something that would have +been better left unsaid, and I have a holy horror of gossip and +mischief-making. A woman’s tongue is a deadly weapon and the most +difficult thing in the world to keep in order, and things slip off it +with a facility nothing short of appalling at the very moment when it +ought to be most quiet. In such cases the only safe course is to talk +steadily about cooks and children, and to pray that the visit may not +be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. Cooks I have found to be +the best of all subjects—the most phlegmatic flush into life at the +mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected with them are +experiences common to us all. + +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, with a +whole troop of flaxen-haired little children to keep them occupied, +besides the business of their large estate. Our intercourse is arranged +on lines of the most beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, +and she returns the call a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner in +the summer, and we ask them to dinner in the winter. By strictly +keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that closer friendship which is +only another name for frequent quarrels. She is a pattern of what a +German country lady should be, and is not only a pretty woman but an +energetic and practical one, and the combination is, to say the least, +effective. She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the +stock, the butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; a +thousand things get done while most people are fast asleep, and before +lazy folk are well at breakfast she is off in her pony-carriage to the +other farms on the place, to rate the “mamsells,” as the head women are +called, to poke into every corner, lift the lids off the saucepans, +count the new-laid eggs, and box, if necessary, any careless +dairymaid’s ears. We are allowed by law to administer “slight corporal +punishment” to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste +to decide what “slight” shall be, and my neighbour really seems to +enjoy using this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. I +would give much to be able to peep through a keyhole and see the +dauntless little lady, terrible in her wrath and dignity, standing on +tiptoe to box the ears of some great strapping girl big enough to eat +her. + +The making of cheese and butter and sausages _excellently_ well is a +work which requires brains, and is, to my thinking, a very admirable +form of activity, and entirely worthy of the attention of the +intelligent. That my neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident +by the bright alertness of her eyes—eyes that nothing escapes, and that +only gain in prettiness by being used to some good purpose. She is a +recognised authority for miles around on the mysteries of +sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; and +with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home, +her children are patterns of health and neatness, and of what dear +little German children, with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick +legs, should be. Who shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and +unworthy of a high order of intelligence? I protest that to me it is a +beautiful life, full of wholesome outdoor work, and with no room for +those listless moments of depression and boredom, and of wondering what +you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a pretty woman’s eyes, and +are not unknown even to the most brilliant. But while admiring my +neighbour, I don’t think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my +talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather +of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take +up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, +sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very +existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the +glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields. And it would make me +perfectly wretched to be confronted by ears so refractory as to require +boxing. + +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it is on +these occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is, +and how far away from his neighbour; and while they talk (generally +about babies, past, present, and to come), I fall to wondering at the +vast and impassable distance that separates one’s own soul from the +soul of the person sitting in the next chair. I am speaking of +comparative strangers, people who are forced to stay a certain time by +the eccentricities of trains, and in whose presence you grope about +after common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that +you have none. Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each +minute more benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in +the air and look vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of +wondering who they most take after, generally settling the question by +saying that the May baby, who is the beauty, is like her father, and +that the two more or less plain ones are the image of me, and this +decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is coming, never fails +to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first time. The +babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it is hard that +they should be used as a means of filling up gaps in conversation, and +their features pulled to pieces one by one, and all their weak points +noted and criticised, while they stand smiling shyly in the operator’s +face, their very smile drawing forth comments on the shape of their +mouths; but, after all, it does not occur very often, and they are one +of those few interests one has in common with other people, as +everybody seems to have babies. A garden, I have discovered, is by no +means a fruitful topic, and it is amazing how few persons really love +theirs—they all pretend they do, but you can hear by the very tone of +their voice what a lukewarm affection it is. About June their interest +is at its warmest, nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and +roses; but on reflection I don’t know a single person within twenty +miles who really cares for his garden, or has discovered the treasures +of happiness that are buried in it, and are to be found if sought for +diligently, and if needs be with tears. It is after these rare calls +that I experience the only moments of depression from which I ever +suffer, and then I am angry at myself, a well-nourished person, for +allowing even a single precious hour of life to be spoiled by anything +so indifferent. That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed +enough, and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably +desire—on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy +by such abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach +to your neighbour’s soul; which is on the face of it foolish, the +probability being that he hasn’t got one. + +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, put +them right along the very front of two borders, and I don’t know what +his feelings can be now that they are all flowering and the plants +behind are completely hidden; but I have learned another lesson, and no +future gardener shall be allowed to run riot among my rockets in quite +so reckless a fashion. They are charming things, as delicate in colour +as in scent, and a bowl of them on my writing-table fills the room with +fragrance. Single rows, however, are a mistake; I had masses of them +planted in the grass, and these show how lovely they can be. A border +full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, must be beautiful; +but I don’t know how long they last nor what they look like when they +have done flowering. This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. +Was ever a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? No +doubt it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to +learn solely by my failures, and if I had some kind creature to tell me +when to do things. At present the only flowers in the garden are the +rockets, the pansies in the rose beds, and two groups of azaleas—mollis +and pontica. The azaleas have been and still are gorgeous; I only +planted them this spring and they almost at once began to flower, and +the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were filled with +imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. Orange, lemon, pink in every delicate +shade—what they will be next year and in succeeding years when the +bushes are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. On +gray, dull days the effect is absolutely startling. Next autumn I shall +make a great bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a +gloomy nook. My tea-roses are covered with buds which will not open for +at least another week, so I conclude this is not the sort of climate +where they will flower from the very beginning of June to November, as +they are said to do. + + + + +_July_ 11_th_.—There has been no rain since the day before Whitsunday, +five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad soon +after Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took to going +about with a spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, explaining +that he felt safer that way, and we bore it quite patiently, as becomes +civilised beings who respect each other’s prejudices, until one day, +when I mildly asked him to tie up a fallen creeper—and after he bought +the revolver my tones in addressing him were of the mildest, and I +quite left off reading to him aloud—he turned round, looked me straight +in the face for the first time since he has been here, and said, “Do I +look like Graf X———— (a great local celebrity), or like a monkey?” +After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as +expeditiously as possible. There was no gardener to be had in his +place, and I have only just succeeded in getting one; so that what with +the drought, and the neglect, and the gardener’s madness, and my +blunders, the garden is in a sad condition; but even in a sad condition +it is the dearest place in the world, and all my mistakes only make me +more determined to persevere. + +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. The +rockets have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets in other +walks of life, have degenerated into sticks; and nothing else in those +borders intends to bloom this summer. The giant poppies I had planted +out in them in April have either died off or remained quite small, and +so have the columbines; here and there a delphinium droops unwillingly, +and that is all. I suppose poppies cannot stand being moved, or perhaps +they were not watered enough at the time of transplanting; anyhow, +those borders are going to be sown to-morrow with more poppies for next +year; for poppies I will have, whether they like it or not, and they +shall not be touched, only thinned out. + +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I come out +and sit under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, and see the +sunshine on the cornfields away on the plain, all the disappointment +smooths itself out, and it seems impossible to be sad and discontented +when everything about me is so radiant and kind. + +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in +this shady corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves +across the grass, and listening to the rooks quarrelling in the +treetops, I almost expect to hear English church bells ringing for the +afternoon service. But the church is three miles off, has no bells, and +no afternoon service. Once a fortnight we go to morning prayer at +eleven and sit up in a sort of private box with a room behind, whither +we can retire unobserved when the sermon is too long or our flesh too +weak, and hear ourselves being prayed for by the black-robed parson. In +winter the church is bitterly cold; it is not heated, and we sit +muffled up in more furs than ever we wear out of doors; but it would of +course be very wicked for the parson to wear furs, however cold he may +be, so he puts on a great many extra coats under his gown, and, as the +winter progresses, swells to a prodigious size. We know when spring is +coming by the reduction in his figure. The congregation sit at ease +while the parson does the praying for them, and while they are droning +the long-drawn-out chorales, he retires into a little wooden box just +big enough to hold him. He does not come out until he thinks we have +sung enough, nor do we stop until his appearance gives us the signal. I +have often thought how dreadful it would be if he fell ill in his box +and left us to go on singing. I am sure we should never dare to stop, +unauthorised by the Church. I asked him once what he did in there; he +looked very shocked at such a profane question, and made an evasive +reply. + +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a terrible day; +but in the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief and more +profound peace, nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; only the little +flowers themselves and the whispering trees. + +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors—not stray callers +to be got rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are +sorry afterwards that you said, but people staying in the house and not +to be got rid of at all. All June was lost to me in this way, and it +was from first to last a radiant month of heat and beauty; but a garden +where you meet the people you saw at breakfast, and will see again at +lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy in. Besides, they had a +knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in them just when +I longed to lounge myself; and they took books out of the library with +them, and left them face downwards on the seats all night to get well +drenched with dew, though they might have known that what is meat for +roses is poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they +had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long +ago—whereas I don’t believe a garden ever is finished. They have all +gone now, thank heaven, except one, so that I have a little breathing +space before others begin to arrive. It seems that the place interests +people, and that there is a sort of novelty in staying in such a +deserted corner of the world, for they were in a perpetual state of +mild amusement at being here at all. + +Irais is the only one left. She is a young woman with a beautiful, +refined face, and her eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly +lovable. At meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites a bit +off, and repeats the process, although providence (taking my shape) has +caused salt-spoons to be placed at convenient intervals down the table. +She lunched to-day on beer, _Schweinekoteletten_, and cabbage-salad +with caraway seeds in it, and now I hear her through the open window, +extemporising touching melodies in her charming, cooing voice. She is +thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on the above diet. What +better proof can be needed to establish the superiority of the Teuton +than the fact that after such meals he can produce such music? Cabbage +salad is a horrid invention, but I don’t doubt its utility as a means +of encouraging thoughtfulness; nor will I quarrel with it, since it +results so poetically, any more than I quarrel with the manure that +results in roses, and I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. +She is the sweetest singer I have ever heard, and has a charming trick +of making up songs as she goes along. When she begins, I go and lean +out of the window and look at my little friends out there in the +borders while listening to her music, and feel full of pleasant sadness +and regret. It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to be sad +about. + +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, the others +hurrying along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed for my +admiration three brand-new kittens, lean and blind, that she was +carrying in her pinafore, and that had just been found motherless in +the woodshed. + +“Look,” she cried breathlessly, “such a much!” + +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once before +this afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself down on +the grass at my feet, to ask about the _lieber Gott_, it being Sunday +and her pious little nurse’s conversation having run, as it seems, on +heaven and angels. + +Her questions about the _lieber Gott_ are better left unrecorded, and I +was relieved when she began about the angels. + +“What do they wear for clothes?” she asked in her German-English. + +“Why, you’ve seen them in pictures,” I answered, “in beautiful, long +dresses, and with big, white wings.” + +“Feathers?” she asked. + +“I suppose so,—and long dresses, all white and beautiful.” + +“Are they girlies?” + +“Girls? Ye—es.” + +“Don’t boys go into the _Himmel?_” + +“Yes, of course, if they’re good.” + +“And then what do _they_ wear?” + +“Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose.” + +“_Dwesses?_” + +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me +of making jokes. “What a funny Mummy!” she said, evidently much amused. +She has a fat little laugh that is very infectious. + +“I think,” said I, gravely, “you had better go and play with the other +babies.” + +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began +writing again. + +“Mummy,” she said presently. + +“Well?” + +“Where do the angels get their dwesses?” + +I hesitated. “From _lieber Gott_,” I said. + +“Are there shops in the _Himmel?_” + +“Shops? No.” + +“But, then, where does _lieber Gott_ buy their dwesses?” + +“Now run away like a good baby; I’m busy.” + +“But you said yesterday, when I asked about _lieber Gott_, that you +would tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about +Him.” + +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with +a sigh. “Call the others, then.” + +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one +after the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The +April baby got the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the +other two had to sit on the grass. + +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. +The April baby’s eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder +and redder. I was surprised at the breathless interest she took in the +story—the other two were tearing up tufts of grass and hardly +listening. I had scarcely got to the angels with the flaming swords and +announced that that was all, when she burst out, “Now _I’ll_ tell about +it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, and they had _plenty_ of +clothes, and there was no snake, and _lieber Gott_ wasn’t angry with +them, and they could eat as many apples as they liked, and was happy +for ever and ever—there now!” + +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. + +“But that’s not the story,” I said rather helplessly. + +“Yes, yes! It’s a much nicelier one! Now another.” + +“But these stories are _true_,” I said severely; “and it’s no use my +telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards.” + +“Another! another!” she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled +energy, all her silvery curls flying. + +I began about Noah and the flood. + +“Did it rain _so_ badly?” she asked with a face of the deepest concern +and interest. + +“Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks——” + +“And was everybody so wet?” + +“Yes—” + +“But why didn’t they open their umbwellas?” + +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. + +“I’ll tell you the rest another time,” I said, putting her off my knee, +greatly relieved; “you must all go to Anna now and have tea.” + +“I don’t like Anna,” remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened +her lips; “she is a stupid girl.” + +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for, +besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not +to hurt any one’s feelings, they had been brought up to love and +respect their kind little nurse. + +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger, +pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. “Such a child will +never go into the _Himmel_,” she said with great emphasis, and the air +of one who delivers judgment. + + + + +_September_ 15_th_.—This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, +and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea +under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in +the library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon +and blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit +cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath +shoots partridges across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as +though it would dream on for ever. It is hard to believe that in three +months we shall probably be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a +feeling about this month that reminds me of March and the early days of +April, when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden +holds its breath in expectation. There is the same mildness in the air, +and the sky and grass have the same look as then; but the leaves tell a +different tale, and the reddening creeper on the house is rapidly +approaching its last and loveliest glory. + +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, and +the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most +beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, +each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at +the base to a yellow-white. I have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses +for planting next month, half of which are Viscountess Folkestones, +because the tea-roses have such a way of hanging their little heads +that one has to kneel down to be able to see them well in the dwarf +forms—not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such perfect +beauty, only it dirties one’s clothes. So I am going to put standards +down each side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the +flowers on a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they +will stand the winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so +difficult to pack up snugly. The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have +been, as I predicted, a mistake among the tea-roses; they only flower +twice in the season and all the rest of the time look dull and moping; +and then the Persian Yellows have such an odd smell and so many insects +inside them eating them up. I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to put in +their place, as they all come out next month and are to be grouped in +the grass; and the semicircle being immediately under the windows, +besides having the best position in the place, must be reserved solely +for my choicest treasures. I have had a great many disappointments, but +feel as though I were really beginning to learn. Humility, and the most +patient perseverance, seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and +sunshine, and every failure must be used as a stepping-stone to +something better. + +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal about gardening and +has had much practical experience. When I heard he was coming, I felt I +wanted to put my arms right round my garden and hide it from him; but +what was my surprise and delight when he said, after having gone all +over it, “Well, I think you have done wonders.” Dear me, how pleased I +was! It was so entirely unexpected, and such a complete novelty after +the remarks I have been listening to all the summer. I could have +hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, able to look beyond the +result to the intention, and appreciating the difficulties of every +kind that had been in the way. After that I opened my heart to him, and +listened reverently to all he had to say, and treasured up his kind and +encouraging advice, and wished he could stay here a whole year and help +me through the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, +and he was the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. + +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able to come to me, +while I can at any time fill the house with visitors about whom I know +little and care less. Perhaps, if I saw more of those absent ones, I +would not love them so well—at least, that is what I think on wet days +when the wind is howling round the house and all nature is overcome +with grief; and it has actually happened once or twice when great +friends have been staying with me that I have wished, when they left, I +might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose the fact is, +that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, and here, in the +country, we invariably think it our duty to appear at breakfast. +Civilisation has done away with curl-papers, yet at that hour the soul +of the _Hausfrau_ is as tightly screwed up in them as was ever her +grandmother’s hair; and though my body comes down mechanically, having +been trained that way by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of +beginning to wake up for other people till lunch-time, and never does +so completely till it has been taken out of doors and aired in the +sunshine. Who can begin conventional amiability the first thing in the +morning? It is the hour of savage instincts and natural tendencies; it +is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. I am convinced that +the Muses and the Graces never thought of having breakfast anywhere but +in bed. + + + + +_November_ 11_th_.—When the gray November weather came, and hung its +soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown of the ploughed fields +and the vivid emerald of the stretches of winter corn, the heavy +stillness weighed my heart down to a forlorn yearning after the +pleasant things of childhood, the petting, the comforting, the warming +faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. A great need of something to +lean on, and a great weariness of independence and responsibility took +possession of my soul; and looking round for support and comfort in +that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness of +the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I +not go and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; +the place where I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, +so close to heaven, so near to hell, always either up on a cloud of +glory, or down in the depths with the waters of despair closing over my +head? Cousins live in it now, distant cousins, loved with the exact +measure of love usually bestowed on cousins who reign in one’s stead; +cousins of practical views, who have dug up the flower-beds and planted +cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the years since my +father’s death I have held my head so high that it hurt, and loftily +refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I should revisit +my old home, something in the sad listlessness of the November days +sent my spirit back to old times with a persistency that would not be +set aside, and I woke from my musings surprised to find myself sick +with longing. It is foolish but natural to quarrel with one’s cousins, +and especially foolish and natural when they have done nothing, and are +mere victims of chance. Is it their fault that my not being a boy +placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into at their +disposal? I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me +love them more. “_Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!_” cried my father, on +my arrival into the world—he had three of them already, and I was his +last hope,—and a _dummes Frauenzimmer_ I have remained ever since; and +that is why for years I would have no dealings with the cousins in +possession, and that is why, the other day, overcome by the tender +influence of the weather, the purely sentimental longing to join hands +again with my childhood was enough to send all my pride to the winds, +and to start me off without warning and without invitation on my +pilgrimage. + +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had lived in the +Middle Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome. The +pilgrims, leaving all their cares at home, the anxieties of their +riches or their debts, the wife that worried and the children that +disturbed, took only their sins with them, and turning their backs on +their obligations, set out with that sole burden, and perhaps a +cheerful heart. How cheerful my heart would have been, starting on a +fine morning, with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious blessings +of my family, with every step getting farther from the suffocation of +daily duties, out into the wide fresh world, out into the glorious free +world, so poor, so penitent, and so happy! My dream, even now, is to +walk for weeks with some friend that I love, leisurely wandering from +place to place, with no route arranged and no object in view, with +liberty to go on all day or to linger all day, as we choose; but the +question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, is one of the rocks +on which my plans have been shipwrecked, and the other is the certain +censure of relatives, who, not fond of walking themselves, and having +no taste for noonday naps under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my +plans before they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their +cry, “How very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!” The +relative of five hundred years back would simply have said, “How holy!” + +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages—indeed, it is evident +that I have it from him—and he encouraged it in me when I was little, +taking me with him on his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a +boy. Often have we been together to the school he was at in +Brandenburg, and spent pleasant days wandering about the old town on +the edge of one of those lakes that lie in a chain in that wide green +plain; and often have we been in Potsdam, where he was quartered as a +lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods around +and in the gardens of Sans Souci, with the second volume of Carlyle’s +Frederick under my father’s arm; and often did we spend long summer +days at the house in the Mark, at the head of the same blue chain of +lakes, where his mother spent her young years, and where, though it +belonged to cousins, like everything else that was worth having, we +could wander about as we chose, for it was empty, and sit in the deep +windows of rooms where there was no furniture, and the painted Venuses +and cupids on the ceiling still smiled irrelevantly and stretched their +futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. And while we sat and +rested, my father told me, as my grandmother had a hundred times told +him, all that had happened in those rooms in the far-off days when +people danced and sang and laughed through life, and nobody seemed ever +to be old or sorry. + +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone’s throw of the great +iron gates, with two very old lime trees in front of it, where we used +to lunch on our arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue +check cloth, the lime blossoms dropping into our soup, and the bees +humming in the scented shadows overhead. I have a picture of the house +by my side as I write, done from the lake in old times, with a boat +full of ladies in hoops and powder in the foreground, and a youth +playing a guitar. The pilgrimages to this place were those I loved the +best. + +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories to tell +a little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, or hung over the +stone balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, or picked the pale +dog-roses in the hedges, or lay in the boat in a shady reed-grown bay +while he smoked to keep the mosquitoes off, were after all only +traditions, imparted to me in small doses from time to time, when his +earnest desire not to raise his remarks above the level of dulness +supposed to be wholesome for _Backfische_ was neutralised by an impulse +to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh; whereas the place +I was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with living, +first-hand memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and +eighteen. How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to +me the older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them +since; and though I have forgotten most of what happened six months +ago, every incident, almost every day of those wonderful long years is +perfectly distinct in my memory. + +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether cousinly in +my behaviour towards the people in possession. The invitations to +revisit the old home had ceased. The cousins had grown tired of +refusals, and had left me alone. I did not even know who lived in it +now, it was so long since I had had any news. For two days I fought +against the strong desire to go there that had suddenly seized me, and +assured myself that I would not go, that it would be absurd to go, +undignified, sentimental, and silly, that I did not know them and would +be in an awkward position, and that I was old enough to know better. +But who can foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? +And when does she ever know better? On the third morning I set out as +hopefully as though it were the most natural thing in the world to fall +unexpectedly upon hitherto consistently neglected cousins, and expect +to be received with open arms. + +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. During the +first part, when it was still dark, I glowed with enthusiasm, with the +spirit of adventure, with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the +loved place again; and thought with wonder of the long years I had +allowed to pass since last I was there. Of what I should say to the +cousins, and of how I should introduce myself into their midst, I did +not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon me, the unpractical +spirit that takes no thought for anything, but simply wanders along +enjoying its own emotions. It was a quiet, sad morning, and there was a +thick mist. By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got over my +first enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically examining the +changes that had been made in the last ten years. It was so misty that +I could see nothing of the familiar country from the carriage windows, +only the ghosts of pines in the front row of the forests; but the +railway itself was a new departure, unknown in our day, when we used to +drive over ten miles of deep, sandy forest roads to and from the +station, and although most people would have called it an evident and +great improvement, it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal and +energy of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he +should require more conveniences than my father had found needful? It +was no use my telling myself that in my father’s time the era of light +railways had not dawned, and that if it had, we should have done our +utmost to secure one; the thought of my cousin, stepping into my shoes, +and then altering them, was odious to me. By the time I was walking up +the hill from the station I had got over this feeling too, and had +entered a third stage of wondering uneasily what in the world I should +do next. Where was the intrepid courage with which I had started? At +the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question in +detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. +Where, indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? It had vanished +so completely that I could only suppose that it must be lunch time, the +observations of years having led to the discovery that the higher +sentiments and virtues fly affrighted on the approach of lunch, and +none fly quicker than courage. So I ate the lunch I had brought with +me, hoping that it was what I wanted; but it was chilly, made up of +sandwiches and pears, and it had to be eaten under a tree at the edge +of a field; and it was November, and the mist was thicker than ever and +very wet—the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, I +was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. Nobody’s spirits +can keep up under such conditions; and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, +I deplored the headlong courage more with each mouthful that had torn +me from a warm, dry home where I was appreciated, and had brought me +first to the damp tree in the damp field, and when I had finished my +lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to drag me into the midst of +a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. Vast sheep loomed +through the mist a few yards off. The sheep dog kept up a perpetual, +irritating yap. In the fog I could hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. After the +fashion of woman directly she is not perfectly warm and perfectly +comfortable, I began to consider the uncertainty of human life, and to +shake my head in gloomy approval as lugubrious lines of pessimistic +poetry suggested themselves to my mind. + +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want to do anything, to do +it in the way consecrated by custom, more especially if you are a +woman. The rattle of a carriage along the road just behind me, and the +fact that I started and turned suddenly hot, drove this truth home to +my soul. The mist hid me, and the carriage, no doubt full of cousins, +drove on in the direction of the house; but what an absurd position I +was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, and revealed me lunching in +the wet on their property, the cousin of the short and lofty letters, +the _unangenehme Elisabeth!_ “_Die war doch immer verdreht_,” I could +imagine them hastily muttering to each other, before advancing wreathed +in welcoming smiles. It gave me a great shock, this narrow escape, and +I got on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch under +the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, asked myself +nervously what I proposed to do next. Should I walk back to the +village, go to the _Gasthof_, write a letter craving permission to call +on my cousins, and wait there till an answer came? It would be a +discreet and sober course to pursue; the next best thing to having +written before leaving home. But the _Gasthof_ of a north German +village is a dreadful place, and the remembrance of one in which I had +taken refuge once from a thunderstorm was still so vivid that nature +itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if anything, was growing +denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. What if I gave up all +hope of seeing the house, and went through the little door in the wall +at the bottom of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? +In such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, without +the least risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, and it was +after all the garden that lay nearest my heart. What a delight it would +be to creep into it unobserved, and revisit all the corners I so well +remembered, and slip out again and get away safely without any need of +explanations, assurances, protestations, displays of affection, without +any need, in a word, of that exhausting form of conversation, so dear +to relations, known as _Redensarten!_ + +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine day I would have +gone soberly to the _Gasthof_ and written the conciliatory letter; but +the temptation was too great, it was altogether irresistible, and in +ten minutes I had found the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and +was standing with a beating heart in the garden of my childhood. + +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same +potency as those that ran through me at that moment. First of all I was +trespassing, which is in itself thrilling; but how much more thrilling +when you are trespassing on what might just as well have been your own +ground, on what actually was for years your own ground, and when you +are in deadly peril of seeing the rightful owners, whom you have never +met, but with whom you have quarrelled, appear round the corner, and of +hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful politeness “I do not +think I have the pleasure—?” Then the place was unchanged. I was +standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had +always been just there; they curled away on either side among the +shrubs, with the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of +their green stains, just as they did in my day. The overgrown lilac +bushes still met above my head. The moisture dripped from the same +ledge in the wall on to the sodden leaves beneath, as it had done all +through the afternoons of all those past Novembers. This was the place, +this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to me. Nobody +ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, and in summer so full +of mosquitoes that only a _Backfisch_ indifferent to spots could have +borne it. But it was a place where I could play unobserved, and where I +could walk up and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the +air. There was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, much +frequented by the larger black slug, where I used to pass glorious +afternoons making plans. I was for ever making plans, and if nothing +came of them, what did it matter? The mere making had been a joy. To me +this out-of-the-way corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious +place, where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant +rows, and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; +for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all +enchanted. + +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, I forgot the +existence of the cousins. I could have cried for joy at being there +again. It was the home of my fathers, the home that would have been +mine if I had been a boy, the home that was mine now by a thousand +tender and happy and miserable associations, of which the people in +possession could not dream. They were tenants, but it was my home. I +threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, every branch of +which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, and fallen from it, and +torn and bruised myself on it uncountable numbers of times? and I gave +it such a hearty kiss that my nose and chin were smudged into one green +stain, and still I did not care. Far from caring, it filled me with a +reckless, _Backfisch_ pleasure in being dirty, a delicious feeling that +I had not had for years. Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the +contents of the magic bottle, could not have grown smaller more +suddenly than I grew younger the moment I passed through that magic +door. Bad habits cling to us, however, with such persistency that I did +mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub off the +welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed of doing in the +glorious old days; but an artful scent of violets clinging to the +handkerchief brought me to my senses, and with a sudden impulse of +scorn, the fine scorn for scent of every honest _Backfisch_, I rolled +it up into a ball and flung it away into the bushes, where I daresay it +is at this moment. “Away with you,” I cried, “away with you, symbol of +conventionality, of slavery, of pandering to a desire to please—away +with you, miserable little lace-edged rag!” And so young had I grown +within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. + +As a _Backfisch_ I had never used handkerchiefs—the child of nature +scorns to blow its nose—though for decency’s sake my governess insisted +on giving me a clean one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. +It was stowed away unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, where +it was gradually pressed into a beautiful compactness by the other +contents, which were knives. After a while, I remember, the +handkerchief being brought to light on Sundays to make room for a +successor, and being manifestly perfectly clean, we came to an +agreement that it should only be changed on the first and third Sundays +in the month, on condition that I promised to turn it on the other +Sundays. My governess said that the outer folds became soiled from the +mere contact with the other things in my pocket, and that visitors +might catch sight of the soiled side if it was never turned when I +wished to blow my nose in their presence, and that one had no right to +give one’s visitors shocks. “But I never do wish——” I began with great +earnestness. “_Unsinn_,” said my governess, cutting me short. + +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, the +profound stillness of the dripping little shrubbery frightened me. It +was so still that I was afraid to move; so still, that I could count +each drop of moisture falling from the oozing wall; so still, that when +I held my breath to listen, I was deafened by my own heart-beats. I +made a step forward in the direction where the arbour ought to be, and +the rustling and jingling of my clothes terrified me into immobility. +The house was only two hundred yards off; and if any one had been +about, the noise I had already made opening the creaking door and so +foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. +Suppose an inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, should presently +loom through the fog, bearing down upon me? Suppose Fräulein +Wundermacher should pounce upon me suddenly from behind, coming up +noiselessly in her galoshes, and shatter my castles with her customary +triumphant “_Jetzt halte ich dich aber fest!_” Why, what was I thinking +of? Fräulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such an enemy of +day-dreams, such a friend of _das Praktische_, such a lover of creature +comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded long ago by others, +German sometimes, and sometimes English, and sometimes at intervals +French, and they too had all in their turn vanished, and I was here a +solitary ghost. “Come, Elizabeth,” said I to myself impatiently, “are +you actually growing sentimental over your governesses? If you think +you are a ghost, be glad at least that you are a solitary one. Would +you like the ghosts of all those poor women you tormented to rise up +now in this gloomy place against you? And do you intend to stand here +till you are caught?” And thus exhorting myself to action, and +recognising how great was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down +the little path leading to the arbour and the principal part of the +garden, going, it is true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened by the +rustling of my petticoats, but determined to see what I had come to see +and not to be scared away by phantoms. + +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the petticoats of my +youth, so short, so silent, and so woollen! And how convenient the +canvas shoes were with the india rubber soles, for creeping about +without making a sound! Thanks to them I could always run swiftly and +unheard into my hiding-places, and stay there listening to the garden +resounding with cries of “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Come in at once to your +lessons!” Or, at a different period, “_Où êtes-vous donc, petite +sotte?_” Or at yet another period, “_Warte nur, wenn ich dich erst +habe!_” As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fräulein Wundermacher, a person +of resource, who discovered that all she needed for my successful +circumvention was galoshes. She purchased a pair, wasted no breath +calling me, and would come up silently, as I stood lapped in a false +security lost in the contemplation of a squirrel or a robin, and seize +me by the shoulders from behind, to the grievous unhinging of my +nerves. Stealing along in the fog, I looked back uneasily once or +twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could hardly be +reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate twists and curls that +compose what my maid calls my _Frisur_, and that mark the gulf lying +between the present and the past; for it had happened once or twice, +awful to relate and to remember, that Fräulein Wundermacher, sooner +than let me slip through her fingers, had actually caught me by the +long plait of hair to whose other end I was attached and whose English +name I had been told was pigtail, just at the instant when I was +springing away from her into the bushes; and so had led me home +triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, and muttering with a +broad smile of special satisfaction, “_Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht +entschlüpfen!_” Fräulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must +have been a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. +But I wished at that moment that she would not haunt me so +persistently, and that I could get rid of the feeling that she was just +behind in her galoshes, with her hand stretched out to seize me. + +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started back +with my heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather’s stern eyes +shining in the darkness. It was evident that my anxiety lest the +cousins should catch me had quite upset my nerves, for I am not by +nature inclined to see eyes where eyes are not. “Don’t be foolish, +Elizabeth,” murmured my soul in rather a faint voice, “go in, and make +sure.” “But I don’t like going in and making sure,” I replied. I did go +in, however, with a sufficient show of courage, and fortunately the +eyes vanished. What I should have done if they had not I am altogether +unable to imagine. Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime and +fear at night, but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The +arbour had fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of +mouldiness. My grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, +it enjoyed a period of prosperity before being left to the ravages of +slugs and children, when he came down every afternoon in summer and +drank his coffee there and read his _Kreuzzeitung_ and dozed, while the +rest of us went about on tiptoe, and only the birds dared sing. Even +the mosquitoes that infested the place were too much in awe of him to +sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I naturally +concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my +memory skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was +exclusively his. Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I +felt how well I knew him now from the impressions he made then on my +child’s mind, though I was not conscious of them for more than twenty +years. Nobody told me about him, and he died when I was six, and yet +within the last year or two, that strange Indian summer of remembrance +that comes to us in the leisured times when the children have been born +and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. It is +rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially for +the parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though +children may not understand what is said and done before them, and have +no interest in it at the time, and though they may forget it at once +and for years, yet these things that they have seen and heard and not +noticed have after all impressed themselves for ever on their minds, +and when they are men and women come crowding back with surprising and +often painful distinctness, and away frisk all the cherished little +illusions in flocks. + +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. He never petted, and he +often frowned, and such people are generally reverenced. Besides, he +was a just man, everybody said; a just man who might have been a great +man if he had chosen, and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly +glory. That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof of +his greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in the vulgar +sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy and +potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still did +nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. People must +believe in somebody, and having pinned their faith on my grandfather in +the promising years that lie round thirty, it was more convenient to +let it remain there. He pervaded our family life till my sixth year, +and saw to it that we all behaved ourselves, and then he died, and we +were glad that he should be in heaven. He was a good German (and when +Germans are good they are very good) who kept the commandments, voted +for the Government, grew prize potatoes and bred innumerable sheep, +drove to Berlin once a year with the wool in a procession of waggons +behind him and sold it at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a +few days there, and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as +often as possible, helped his friends, punished his children, read his +Bible, said his prayers, and was genuinely astonished when his wife had +the affectation to die of a broken heart. I cannot pretend to explain +this conduct. She ought, of course, to have been happy in the +possession of so good a man; but good men are sometimes oppressive, and +to have one in the house with you and to live in the daily glare of his +goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him seven sons +and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother died in the way +described, and afforded, said my grandfather, another and a very +curious proof of the impossibility of ever being sure of your ground +with women. The incident faded more quickly from his mind than it might +otherwise have done for its having occurred simultaneously with the +production of a new kind of potato, of which he was justly proud. He +called it _Trost in Trauer_, and quoted the text of Scripture _Auge um +Auge, Zabn um Zahn_, after which he did not again allude to his wife’s +decease. In his last years, when my father managed the estate, and he +only lived with us and criticised, he came to have the reputation of an +oracle. The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of any +important phase in their lives, and he received them in this very +arbour, administering eloquent and minute advice in the deep voice that +rolled round the shrubbery and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as +I played. Sitting among the bushes playing muffled games for fear of +disturbing him, I supposed he must be reading aloud, so unbroken was +the monotony of that majestic roll. The young men used to come out +again bathed in perspiration, much stung by mosquitoes, and looking +bewildered; and when they had got over the impression made by my +grandfather’s speech and presence, no doubt forgot all he had said with +wholesome quickness, and set themselves to the interesting and +necessary work of gaining their own experience. Once, indeed, a +dreadful thing happened, whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end +to the long and close friendship between us and our nearest neighbour. +His son was brought to the arbour and left there in the usual way, and +either he must have happened on the critical half hour after the coffee +and before the _Kreuzzeitung_, when my grandfather was accustomed to +sleep, or he was more courageous than the others and tried to talk, for +very shortly, playing as usual near at hand, I heard my grandfather’s +voice, raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and quake, +saying with deliberate anger, “_Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des +Satans!_” Which was all the advice this particular young man got, and +which he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, and +though his face was very pale, there was an odd twist about the corners +of his mouth that reassured me. + +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather’s life, for +almost immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he +need have done because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with +him, in the face of his doctor’s warning that if he did he would surely +die. “What! am I to be conquered by crabs?” he demanded indignantly of +the doctor; for apart from loving them with all his heart he had never +yet been conquered by anything. “Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal—do +not, I pray you, try it again,” replied the doctor. But my grandfather +ordered crabs that very night for supper, and went in to table with the +shining eyes of one who is determined to conquer or die, and the crabs +conquered, and he died. “He was a just man,” said the neighbours, +except that nearest neighbour, formerly his best friend, “and might +have been a great one had he so chosen.” And they buried him with +profound respect, and the sunshine came into our home life with a +burst, and the birds were not the only creatures that sang, and the +arbour, from having been a temple of Delphic utterances, sank into a +home for slugs. + +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable ultimate +triumph of the insignificant and small over the important and vast, +illustrated in this instance by the easy substitution in the arbour of +slugs for grandfathers, I went slowly round the next bend of the path, +and came to the broad walk along the south side of the high wall +dividing the flower garden from the kitchen garden, in which sheltered +position my father had had his choicest flowers. Here the cousins had +been at work, and all the climbing roses that clothed the wall with +beauty were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed up at +proper intervals, reigned in their stead. Evidently the cousins knew +the value of this warm aspect, for in the border beneath, filled in my +father’s time in this month of November with the wallflowers that were +to perfume the walk in spring, there was a thick crop of—I stooped down +close to make sure—yes, a thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled with +tears at the sight of those radishes, and it is probably the only +occasion on record on which radishes have made anybody cry. My dear +father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn passionately +loved this particular border, and spent the spare moments of a busy +life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. He had no time himself for a +more near acquaintance with the delights of gardening than directing +what plants were to be used, but found rest from his daily work +strolling up and down here, or sitting smoking as close to the flowers +as possible. “It is the Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest +Refreshment to the Spirits of Man,” he would quote (for he read other +things besides the _Kreuzzeitung_), looking round with satisfaction on +reaching this fragrant haven after a hot day in the fields. Well, the +cousins did not think so. Less fanciful, and more sensible as they +probably would have said, their position plainly was that you cannot +eat flowers. Their spirits required no refreshment, but their bodies +needed much, and therefore radishes were more precious than +wallflowers. Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they +were grown in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners and +old cucumber frames, and would never have been allowed to come among +the flowers. And only because I was not a boy here they were profaning +the ground that used to be so beautiful. Oh, it was a terrible +misfortune not to have been a boy! And how sad and lonely it was, after +all, in this ghostly garden. The radish bed and what it symbolised had +turned my first joy into grief. This walk and border me too much of my +father reminded, and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he +had taught me, and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once +during all the years we lived together had we been of different +opinions and fallen out, and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. +I was four years old, and demanded one Sunday to be taken to church. My +father said no, for I had never been to church, and the German service +is long and exhausting. I implored. He again said no. I implored again, +and showed such a pious disposition, and so earnest a determination to +behave well, that he gave in, and we went off very happily hand in +hand. “Now mind, Elizabeth,” he said, turning to me at the church door, +“there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted on being +brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end.” “Oh, yes, oh, +yes,” I promised eagerly, and went in filled with holy fire. The +shortness of my legs, hanging helplessly for two hours midway between +the seat and the floor, was the weapon chosen by Satan for my +destruction. In German churches you do not kneel, and seldom stand, but +sit nearly the whole time, praying and singing in great comfort. If you +are four years old, however, this unchanged position soon becomes one +of torture. Unknown and dreadful things go on in your legs, strange +prickings and tinglings and dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying +numbness, when you think they must have dropped off but are afraid to +look, then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. I +thought I must be very ill, for I had never known my legs like that +before. My father sitting beside me was engrossed in the singing of a +chorale that evidently had no end, each verse finished with a +long-drawn-out hallelujah, after which the organ played by itself for a +hundred years—by the organist’s watch, which was wrong, two minutes +exactly—and then another verse began. My father, being the patron of +the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon with +exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little church was on +our pew, and at first I tried to imitate him; but the behaviour of my +legs became so alarming that after vainly casting imploring glances at +him and seeing that he continued his singing unmoved, I put out my hand +and pulled his sleeve. + +“Hal-le-lu-jah,” sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low +voice without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly +moving, and his eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the +organist, who was also the postman, should have finished his solo, “Did +I not tell thee to sit still, Elizabeth?” “Yes, but——” “Then do it.” +“But I want to go home.” + +“_Unsinn_.” And the next verse beginning, my father sang louder than +ever. What could I do? Should I cry? I began to be afraid I was going +to die on that chair, so extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. +What could my father do to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of +small children I felt that he could not put me in the corner in church, +nor would he whip me in public, and that with the whole village looking +on, he was helpless, and would have to give in. Therefore I tugged his +sleeve again and more peremptorily, and prepared to demand my immediate +removal in a loud voice. But my father was ready for me. Without +interrupting his singing, or altering his devout expression, he put his +hand slowly down and gave me a hard pinch—not a playful pinch, but a +good hard unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, +and then went on serenely to the next hallelujah. For a moment I was +petrified with astonishment. Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, +adorer, and friend? Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a +nicely stretched, tight skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I +opened my mouth to shriek in earnest, when my father’s clear whisper +fell on my ear, each word distinct and not to be misunderstood, his +eyes as before gazing meditatively into space, and his lips hardly +moving, “_Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du platzt_.” +And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum— + +“Will Satan mich verschlingen, +So lass die Engel singen + Hallelujah!” + +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing +slave, and after that I was his. + +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to +the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of +which my own little garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood +still a moment before going through, to hold my breath and listen. The +silence was as profound as before. The place seemed deserted; and I +should have thought the house empty and shut up but for the carefully +tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green of the path. They +were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine a +specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow +sitting on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in +my life jumped, and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my +nerves were all to pieces, for I gathered up my skirts and fled through +the door as though a whole army of ghosts and cousins were at my heels, +nor did I stop till I had reached the remote corner where my garden +was. “Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?” asked the mocking sprite +that calls itself my soul: but I was too much out of breath to answer. + +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated from the main +garden and the house by the wall, and shut in on the north side by an +orchard, and it was to the last degree unlikely that any one would come +there on such an afternoon. This plot of ground, turned now as I saw +into a rockery, had been the scene of my most untiring labours. Into +the cold earth of this north border on which the sun never shone I had +dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been spent on it, and +as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, in a fatal hour I had +borrowed from Fräulein Wundermacher, selling her my independence, +passing utterly into her power, forced as a result till my next +birthday should come round to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner +in her company, against which my very soul revolted. And after all, +nothing came up. The labour of digging and watering, the anxious zeal +with which I pounced on weeds, the poring over gardening books, the +plans made as I sat on the little seat in the middle gazing admiringly +and with the eye of faith on the trim surface so soon to be gemmed with +a thousand flowers, the reckless expenditure of _pfennings_, the +humiliation of my position in regard to Fräulein Wundermacher,—all, all +had been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. The gardener +who reigned supreme in those days had given me this big piece for that +sole reason, because he could do nothing with it himself. He was no +doubt of opinion that it was quite good enough for a child to +experiment upon, and went his way, when I had thanked him with a +profuseness of gratitude I still remember, with an unmoved countenance. +For more than a year I worked and waited, and watched the career of the +flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled feelings. The orchard was +only a few yards away, and yet, although my garden was full of manure, +and water, and attentions that were never bestowed on the orchard, all +it could show and ever did show were a few unhappy beginnings of growth +that either remained stationary and did not achieve flowers, or +dwindled down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked the gardener if +he could explain these signs and wonders, but he was a busy man with no +time for answering questions, and told me shortly that gardening was +not learned in a day. How well I remember that afternoon, and the very +shape of the lazy clouds, and the smell of spring things, and myself +going away abashed and sitting on the shaky bench in my domain and +wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made the difference +between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. The fruit trees, +far enough away from the wall to be beyond the reach of its cold shade, +were tossing their flower-laden heads in the sunshine in a carelessly +well-satisfied fashion that filled my heart with envy. There was a rise +in the field behind them, and at the foot of its protecting slope they +luxuriated in the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. It +was May, and my heart bled at the thought of the tulips I had put in in +November, and that I had never seen since. The whole of the rest of the +garden was on fire with tulips; behind me, on the other side of the +wall, were rows and rows of them,—cups of translucent loveliness, a +jewelled ring flung right round the lawn. But what was there not on the +other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew and flowered +exactly as my gardening books said they should do; and in front of me, +in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever troubled about or +cultivated or noticed throve joyously beneath the trees,—daffodils +thrusting their spears through the grass, crocuses peeping out +inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their small cold faces when the first +shivering spring days came. Only my piece that I so loved was +perpetually ugly and empty. And I sat in it thinking of these things on +that radiant day, and wept aloud. + +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me busily +digging, and noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps by the +difference between my garden and the profusion of splendour all around, +paused with his barrow on the path in front of me, and remarked that +nobody could expect to get blood out of a stone. The apparent +irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, the bitter +tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, and harangued me +from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips +and blood and stones till my tears all dried up again and I listened +attentively, for the conclusion to be drawn from his remarks was +plainly that I had been shamefully taken in by the head gardener, who +was an unprincipled person thenceforward to be for ever mistrusted and +shunned. Standing on the path from which the kindly apprentice had +expounded his proverb, this scene rose before me as clearly as though +it had taken place that very day; but how different everything looked, +and how it had shrunk! Was this the wide orchard that had seemed to +stretch away, it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of +heaven? I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a +certain time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up +my mind that on that Day the heavenly host would enter the world by +that very field, coming down the slope in shining ranks, treading the +daffodils under foot, filling the orchard with their songs of +exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from among the goats. Of +course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head gardener goats, so +that the results could not fail to be in every way satisfactory. But +looking up at the slope and remembering my visions, I laughed at the +smallness of the field I had supposed would hold all heaven. + +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my garden was +occupied by a rockery, and the orchard grass with all its treasures had +been dug up, and the spaces between the trees planted with currant +bushes and celery in admirable rows; so that no future little cousins +will be able to dream of celestial hosts coming towards them across the +fields of daffodils, and will perhaps be the better for being free from +visions of the kind, for as I grew older, uncomfortable doubts laid +hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim uncertainties as to the exact +ultimate position of the gardener and the governess, anxious +questionings as to how it would be if it were they who turned out after +all to be sheep, and I who—? For that we all three might be gathered +into the same fold at the last never, in those days, struck me as +possible, and if it had I should not have liked it. + +“Now what sort of person can that be,” I asked myself, shaking my head, +as I contemplated the changes before me, “who could put a rockery among +vegetables and currant bushes? A rockery, of all things in the +gardening world, needs consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier +to make mistakes in forming a rockery than in any other garden scheme. +Either it is a great success, or it is great failure; either it is very +charming, or it is very absurd. There is no state between the sublime +and the ridiculous possible in a rockery.” I stood shaking my head +disapprovingly at the rockery before me, lost in these reflections, +when a sudden quick pattering of feet coming along in a great hurry +made me turn round with a start, just in time to receive the shock of a +body tumbling out of the mist and knocking violently against me. + +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. + +“Hullo!” said the little girl in excellent English; and then we stared +at each other in astonishment. + +“I thought you were Miss Robinson,” said the little girl, offering no +apology for having nearly knocked me down. “Who are you?” + +“Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?” I repeated, my eyes fixed on the little +girl’s face, and a host of memories stirring within me. “Why, didn’t +she marry a missionary, and go out to some place where they ate him?” + +The little girl stared harder. “Ate him? Marry? What, has she been +married all this time to somebody who’s been eaten and never let on? +Oh, I say, what a game!” And she threw back her head and laughed till +the garden rang again. + +“O hush, you dreadful little girl!” I implored, catching her by the +arm, and terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. “Don’t +make that horrid noise—we are certain to be caught if you don’t stop——” + +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut +her mouth with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot +buttons, came still further out of her head. “Caught?” she said +eagerly. “What, are you afraid of being caught too? Well, this _is_ a +game!” And with her hands plunged deep in the pockets of her coat she +capered in front of me in the excess of her enjoyment, reminding me of +a very fat black lamb frisking round the dazed and passive sheep its +mother. + +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to the gate at +the end of the garden as quickly as possible, and I began to move away +in that direction. The little girl at once stopped capering and planted +herself squarely in front of me. “Who are you?” she said, examining me +from my hat to my boots with the keenest interest. + +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, +and, trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. + +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, was there before me. + +“Who are you?” she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. “Oh, +I—I’m a pilgrim,” I said in desperation. + +“A pilgrim!” echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, and while she +was struck I slipped past her and began to walk quickly towards the +door in the wall. “A pilgrim!” said the little girl, again, keeping +close beside me, and looking me up and down attentively. “I don’t like +pilgrims. Aren’t they people who are always walking about, and have +things the matter with their feet? Have you got anything the matter +with your feet?” + +“Certainly not,” I replied indignantly, walking still faster. + +“And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don’t either, do you?” + +“Not wash? Oh, I’m afraid you are a very badly brought-up little +girl—oh, leave me alone—I must run—” + +“So must I,” said the little girl, cheerfully, “for Miss Robinson must +be close behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you.” And she +started running by my side. + +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings to my feet, +and, casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was but little left, +to the winds, I fairly flew down the path. The little girl was not to +be outrun, and though she panted and turned weird colours, kept by my +side and even talked. Oh, I was tired, tired in body and mind, tired by +the different shocks I had received, tired by the journey, tired by the +want of food; and here I was being forced to run because this very +naughty little girl chose to hide instead of going in to her lessons. + +“I say—this is jolly—” she jerked out. + +“But why need we run to the same place?” I breathlessly asked, in the +vain hope of getting rid of her. + +“Oh, yes—that’s just—the fun. We’d get on—together—you and I—” + +“No, no,” said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. + +“I can’t stand washing—either—it’s awful—in winter—and makes one +have—chaps.” + +“But I don’t mind it in the least,” I protested faintly, not having any +energy left. + +“Oh, I say!” said the little girl, looking at my face, and making the +sound known as a guffaw. The familiarity of this little girl was wholly +revolting. + +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past the radishes, +and were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience how easy it was to +hide in the tangle of little paths, and stopped a moment to look round +and listen. The little girl opened her mouth to speak. With great +presence of mind I instantly put my muff in front of it and held it +there tight, while I listened. Dead silence, except for the laboured +breathing and struggles of the little girl. + +“I don’t hear a sound,” I whispered, letting her go again. “Now what +did you want to say?” I added, eyeing her severely. + +“I wanted to say,” she panted, “that it’s no good pretending you wash +with a nose like that.” + +“A nose like that! A nose like what?” I exclaimed, greatly offended; +and though I put up my hand and very tenderly and carefully felt it, I +could find no difference in it. “I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must +have a wretched life,” I said, in tones of deep disgust. + +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying her +compliments. “It’s all green and brown,” she said, pointing. “Is it +always like that?” + +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, and the enraptured +kiss it had received, and blushed. + +“Won’t it come off?” persisted the little girl. + +“Of course it will come off,” I answered, frowning. + +“Why don’t you rub it off?” + +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, and blushed +again. + +“Please lend me your handkerchief,” I said humbly, “I—I have lost +mine.” + +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then a +handkerchief that made me young again merely to look at it was +produced. I took it thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, +intensely interested, watching the operation and giving me advice. +“There—it’s all right now—a little more on the right—there—now it’s all +off.” + +“Are you sure? No green left?” I anxiously asked. + +“No, it’s red all over now,” she replied cheerfully. “Let me get home,” +thought I, very much upset by this information, “let me get home to my +dear, uncritical, admiring babies, who accept my nose as an example of +what a nose should be, and whatever its colour think it beautiful.” And +thrusting the handkerchief back into the little girl’s hands, I hurried +away down the path. She packed it away hastily, but it took some +seconds for it was of the size of a small sheet, and then came running +after me. “Where are you going?” she asked surprised, as I turned down +the path leading to the gate. + +“Through this gate,” I replied with decision. + +“But you mustn’t—we’re not allowed to go through there——” + +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at the words +_not allowed_ my hand dropped of itself from the latch; and at that +instant a voice calling quite close to us through the mist struck me +rigid. + +“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” called the voice, “Come in at once to your +lessons—Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” + +“It’s Miss Robinson,” whispered the little girl, twinkling with +excitement; then, catching sight of my face, she said once more with +eager insistence, “Who are you?” + +“Oh, I’m a ghost!” I cried with conviction, pressing my hands to my +forehead and looking round fearfully. + +“Pooh,” said the little girl. + +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking of +approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I +pulled the gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, +and fled out and away down the wide, misty fields. + +The _Gotha Almanach_ says that the reigning cousin married the daughter +of a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, and that in 1886 their only +child was born, Elizabeth. + + + + +_November_ 20_th_.—Last night we had ten degrees of frost (Fahrenheit), +and I went out the first thing this morning to see what had become of +the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake and quite +cheerful—covered with rime it is true, but anything but black and +shrivelled. Even those in boxes on each side of the verandah steps were +perfectly alive and full of buds, and one in particular, a Bouquet +d’Or, is a mass of buds, and would flower if it could get the least +encouragement. I am beginning to think that the tenderness of tea-roses +is much exaggerated, and am certainly very glad I had the courage to +try them in this northern garden. But I must not fly too boldly in the +face of Providence, and have ordered those in the boxes to be taken +into the greenhouse for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d’Or, in a +sunny place near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. +The greenhouse is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature just +above freezing, and is reserved entirely for such plants as cannot +stand the very coldest part of the winter out of doors. I don’t use it +for growing anything, because I don’t love things that will only bear +the garden for three or four months in the year and require coaxing and +petting for the rest of it. Give me a garden full of strong, healthy +creatures, able to stand roughness and cold without dismally giving in +and dying. I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely flowers to be +had by heat and constant coaxing, but then for each of these there are +fifty others still lovelier that will gratefully grow in God’s +wholesome air and are blessed in return with a far greater intensity of +scent and colour. + +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds into order +and planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward to next summer +with more hope than ever in spite of my many failures. I wish the years +would pass quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! The Persian +Yellows have gone into their new quarters, and their place is occupied +by the tea-rose Safrano; all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies +sown in July and transplanted in October, each bed having a separate +colour. The purple ones are the most charming and go well with every +rose, but I have white ones with Laurette Messimy, and yellow ones with +Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed of red roses. Round +the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge two rows of +annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, and just +beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard tea and +pillar roses. + +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked with +larkspurs, annual and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, pinks, +Madonna lilies, wallflowers, hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, peonies, +lavender, starworts, cornflowers, Lychnis chalcedonica, and bulbs +packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are the borders that were so +hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes for the verandah +steps have been filled with pink and white and yellow tulips. I love +tulips better than any other spring flower; they are the embodiment of +alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, and next to a hyacinth look like a +wholesome, freshly tubbed young girl beside a stout lady whose every +movement weighs down the air with patchouli. Their faint, delicate +scent is refinement itself; and is there anything in the world more +charming than the sprightly way they hold up their little faces to the +sun? I have heard them called bold and flaunting, but to me they seem +modest grace itself, only always on the alert to enjoy life as much as +they can and not afraid of looking the sun or anything else above them +in the face. On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted with +forget-me-nots; and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils +and narcissus. Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins +will (I hope) shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of +firs, is graced by Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. + +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak tree that +stands alone in the sun—groups of crocuses, daffodils, narcissus, +hyacinths, and tulips, among such flowering shrubs and trees as Pirus +Malus spectabilis, floribunda, and coronaria; Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, +serotina, triloba, and Pissardi; Cydonias and Weigelias in every +colour, and several kinds of Cratægus and other May lovelinesses. If +the weather behaves itself nicely, and we get gentle rains in due +season, I think this little corner will be beautiful—but what a big +“if” it is! Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers each +contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all the ditches +dried up and the soil was like hot pastry. At such times the watering +is naturally quite beyond the strength of two men; but as a garden is a +place to be happy in, and not one where you want to meet a dozen +curious eyes at every turn, I should not like to have more than these +two, or rather one and a half—the assistant having stork-like +proclivities and going home in the autumn to his native Russia, +returning in the spring with the first warm winds. I want to keep him +over the winter, as there is much to be done even then, and I sounded +him on the point the other day. He is the most abject-looking of human +beings—lame, and afflicted with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good +worker and plods along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. + +“Pray, my good stork,” said I, or German words to that effect, “why +don’t you stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting away +all you have earned?” + +“I would stay,” he answered, “but I have my wife there in Russia.” + +“Your wife!” I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed +creature should have found a mate—as though there were not a +superfluity of mates in the world—“I didn’t know you were married?” + +“Yes, and I have two little children, and I don’t know what they would +do if I were not to come home. But it is a very expensive journey to +Russia, and costs me every time seven marks.” + +“Seven marks!” + +“Yes, it is a great sum.” + +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, +supposing I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. + +All the labourers who work here from March to December are Russians and +Poles, or a mixture of both. We send a man over who can speak their +language, to fetch as many as he can early in the year, and they arrive +with their bundles, men and women and babies, and as soon as they have +got here and had their fares paid, they disappear in the night if they +get the chance, sometimes fifty of them at a time, to go and work +singly or in couples for the peasants, who pay them a _pfenning_ or two +more a day than we do, and let them eat with the family. From us they +get a mark and a half to two marks a day, and as many potatoes as they +can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, but because +they are women and must not be encouraged. The overseer lives with +them, and has a loaded revolver in his pocket and a savage dog at his +heels. For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters and +other permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses they are +put into. I suppose they find it sleepy work; for certain it is that +spring after spring the same thing happens, fifty of them getting away +in spite of all our precautions, and we are left with our mouths open +and much out of pocket. This spring, by some mistake, they arrived +without their bundles, which had gone astray on the road, and, as they +travel in their best clothes, they refused utterly to work until their +luggage came. Nearly a week was lost waiting, to the despair of all in +authority. + +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints’ days, +and there surely never was a church so full of them as the Russian +Church. In the spring, when every hour is of vital importance, the work +is constantly being interrupted by them, and the workers lie sleeping +in the sun the whole day, agreeably conscious that they are pleasing +themselves and the Church at one and the same time—a state of +perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided by Faith is of +course exasperated at this waste of precious time, and I confess that +during the first mild days after the long winter frost when it is +possible to begin to work the ground, I have sympathised with the gloom +of the Man of Wrath, confronted in one week by two or three empty days +on which no man will labour, and have listened in silence to his +remarks about distant Russian saints. + +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation that made me +pity these people when first I came to live among them. They herd +together like animals and do the work of animals; but in spite of the +armed overseer, the dirt and the rags, the meals of potatoes washed +down by weak vinegar and water, I am beginning to believe that they +would strongly object to soap, I am sure they would not wear new +clothes, and I hear them coming home from their work at dusk singing. +They are like little children or animals in their utter inability to +grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day in God’s +sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and ready for +rest and not much inclined to find fault with your lot. I have not yet +persuaded myself, however, that the women are happy. They have to work +as hard as the men and get less for it; they have to produce offspring, +quite regardless of times and seasons and the general fitness of +things; they have to do this as expeditiously as possible, so that they +may not unduly interrupt the work in hand; nobody helps them, notices +them, or cares about them, least of all the husband. It is quite a +usual thing to see them working in the fields in the morning, and +working again in the afternoon, having in the interval produced a baby. +The baby is left to an old woman whose duty it is to look after babies +collectively. When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man of Wrath +informed me that they did not suffer because they had never worn +corsets, nor had their mothers and grandmothers. We were riding +together at the time, and had just passed a batch of workers, and my +husband was speaking to the overseer, when a woman arrived alone, and +taking up a spade, began to dig. She grinned cheerfully at us as she +made a curtesy, and the overseer remarked that she had just been back +to the house and had a baby. + +“Poor, _poor_ woman!” I cried, as we rode on, feeling for some occult +reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. “And her wretched husband +doesn’t care a rap, and will probably beat her to-night if his supper +isn’t right. What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the +sexes when the women have the babies!” + +“Quite so, my dear,” replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. +“You have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing +this agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any +serious competition with man. How can a person who is constantly losing +a year of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never +loses any time at all? He has the brute force, and his last word on any +subject could always be his fist.” + +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning of +November, and the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses’ +feet as we rode towards the Hirschwald. + +“It is a universal custom,” proceeded the Man of Wrath, “amongst these +Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes everywhere, and +certainly commendable on the score of simplicity, to silence a woman’s +objections and aspirations by knocking her down. I have heard it said +that this apparently brutal action has anything but the maddening +effect tenderly nurtured persons might suppose, and that the patient is +soothed and satisfied with a rapidity and completeness unattainable by +other and more polite methods. Do you suppose,” he went on, flicking a +twig off a tree with his whip as we passed, “that the intellectual +husband, wrestling intellectually with the chaotic yearnings of his +intellectual wife, ever achieves the result aimed at? He may and does +go on wrestling till he is tired, but never does he in the very least +convince her of her folly; while his brother in the ragged coat has got +through the whole business in less time than it takes me to speak about +it. There is no doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far +more thoroughly than the women in our class, and, as the truest: +happiness consists in finding one’s vocation quickly and continuing in +it all one’s days, I consider they are to be envied rather than not, +since they are early taught, by the impossibility of argument with +marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour and the blessings of +content.” + +“Pray go on,” I said politely. + +“These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all +praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the +strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent +rebukes. In Russia, not only _may_ a man beat his wife, but it is laid +down in the catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation +as necessary at least once a week, whether she has done anything or +not, for the sake of her general health and happiness.” + +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat +over these castigations. + +“Pray, my dear man,” I said, pointing with my whip, “look at that baby +moon so innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind +that silver birch; and don’t talk so much about women and things you +don’t understand. What is the use of your bothering about fists and +whips and muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the +confusion of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, +and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man.” + +“And a civilised wife?” he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me +and putting his arm round my waist, “has she ceased to be a woman?” + +“I should think so indeed,—she is a goddess, and can never be +worshipped and adored enough.” + +“It seems to me,” he said, “that the conversation is growing personal.” + +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. The +Hirschwald is an enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie +low on the turf, and overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver +birches stand out clear against the soft sky, while the little moon +looks down kindly on the damp November world. Where the trees thicken +into a wood, the fragrance of the wet earth and rotting leaves kicked +up by the horses’ hoofs fills my soul with delight. I particularly love +that smell,—it brings before me the entire benevolence of Nature, for +ever working death and decay, so piteous in themselves, into the means +of fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours as she works. + + + + +_December_ 7_th_.—I have been to England. I went for at least a month +and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. Twice I +fled before the fogs into the country to see friends with gardens, but +it was raining, and except the beautiful lawns (not to be had in the +Fatherland) and the infinite possibilities, there was nothing to +interest the intelligent and garden-loving foreigner, for the good +reason that you cannot be interested in gardens under an umbrella. So I +went back to the fogs, and after groping about for a few days more +began to long inordinately for Germany. A terrific gale sprang up after +I had started, and the journey both by sea and land was full of +horrors, the trains in Germany being heated to such an extent that it +is next to impossible to sit still, great gusts of hot air coming up +under the cushions, the cushions themselves being very hot, and the +wretched traveller still hotter. + +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, +brightest snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed +to be listening, the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot +and on the trees, and a happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, +I was consoled for all my torments, only remembering them enough to +wonder why I had gone away at all. + +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant bouquet of pine +needles and grass in the other, and what with the due presentation of +the bouquets and the struggles of the kittens, the hugging and kissing +was much interfered with. Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all +somehow squeezed into the sleigh, and off we went with jingling bells +and shrieks of delight. “Directly you comes home the fun begins,” said +the May baby, sitting very close to me. “How the snow purrs!” cried the +April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their feet. The June +baby sat loudly singing “The King of Love my Shepherd is,” and swinging +her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. + +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode of peace, and +I ran through all the rooms, eager to take possession of them again, +and feeling as though I had been away for ever. When I got to the +library I came to a standstill,—ah, the dear room, what happy times I +have spent in it rummaging amongst the books, making plans for my +garden, building castles in the air, writing, dreaming, doing nothing! +There was a big peat fire blazing half up the chimney, and the old +housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, and on the writing-table was +a great bunch of violets scenting the room. “Oh, how _good_ it is to be +home again!” I sighed in my satisfaction. The babies clung about my +knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. Outside the dazzling +snow and sunshine, inside the bright room and happy faces—I thought of +those yellow fogs and shivered. The library is not used by the Man of +Wrath; it is neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour +before he disappears into his own rooms—a series of very smoky dens in +the southeast corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, rather too +gay for an ideal library; and its colouring, white and yellow, is so +cheerful as to be almost frivolous. There are white bookcases all round +the walls, and there is a great fireplace, and four windows, facing +full south, opening on to my most cherished bit of garden, the bit +round the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such a big fire and +such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, in spite of +the venerable volumes filling the shelves. Indeed, I should never be +surprised if they skipped down from their places, and, picking up their +leaves, began to dance. + +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity +to being snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go +into the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of +purity. The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that +it makes me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of +all the spotlessness. Yesterday I sat out of doors near the sun-dial +the whole afternoon, with the thermometer so many degrees below +freezing that it will be weeks finding its way up again; but there was +no wind, and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. I +even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, and +sat till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. I had to +drink the tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination to begin +to freeze. After the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their +nests in the garden with a great fuss and fluttering, and many +hesitations and squabbles before they settled on their respective +trees. They flew over my head in hundreds with a mighty swish of wings, +and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an intense hush fell +upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas card, +with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, +and lamplight shining in the windows. + +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, in the +intervals between looking round me and being happy. He came one day +with the book and begged me to read it, having discovered that my +interest in Luther was not as living as it ought to be; so I took it +out with me into the garden, because the dullest book takes on a +certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, +devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. I +read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at the +garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. His struggles +with devils amazed me; and I wondered whether such a day as that, full +of grace and the forgiveness of sins, never struck him as something to +make him relent even towards devils. He apparently never allowed +himself just to be happy. He was a wonderful man, but I am glad I was +not his wife. + +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts to +improve himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare +moment, and there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one +hand and holds a Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, of course, +getting the greater share of her attention. To most German _Hausfraus_ +the dinners and the puddings are of paramount importance, and they +pride themselves on keeping those parts of their houses that are seen +in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, and this is +exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, are there not +other things even more important? And is not plain living and high +thinking better than the other way about? And all too careful making of +dinners and dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious +time, and—and with shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the +pudding and the grammar. It cannot be right to be the slave of one’s +household gods, and I protest that if my furniture ever annoyed me by +wanting to be dusted when I wanted to be doing something else, and +there was no one to do the dusting for me, I would cast it all into the +nearest bonfire and sit and warm my toes at the flames with great +contentment, triumphantly selling my dusters to the very next pedlar +who was weak enough to buy them. Parsons’ wives have to do the +housework and cooking themselves, and are thus not only cooks and +housemaids, but if they have children—and they always do have +children—they are head and under nurse as well; and besides these +trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit and vegetable +garden, and everything to do with their poultry. This being so, is it +not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling to learn +languages and keep up with her husband? If I were that husband, those +puddings would taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin sauce. +They are both severely pious, and are for ever engaged in desperate +efforts to practise what they preach; than which, as we all know, +nothing is more difficult. He works in his parish with the most noble +self-devotion, and never loses courage, although his efforts have been +several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the +street-corners, thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden +wall. The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a +sensitive, intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before +swine. For years he has gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most +living faith and hope and charity, and I sometimes wonder whether they +are any better now in his parish than they were under his predecessor, +a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning to Saturday night, +never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty congregation +waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial nap. It +is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave the parish +to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never seems discouraged, +and goes on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when +all his tastes are literary, and all his inclinations towards the life +of the student. His convictions drag him out of his little home at all +hours to minister to the sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no +rest, and never let him feel he has done enough; and when he comes home +weary, after a day’s wrestling with his parishioners’ souls, he is +confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up on his own front +door. He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be hid? +Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, +and what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the +most astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, roomy +cottage, and a good bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. His +predecessor used to hang out his washing on the tombstones to dry, but +then he was a person entirely lost to all sense of decency, and had +finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon of a most +vituperative description, and hurling invective at the Man of Wrath, +who sat up in his box drinking in every word and enjoying himself +thoroughly. The Man of Wrath likes novelty, and such a sermon had never +been heard before. It is spoken of in the village to this day with +bated breath and awful joy. + + + + +_December_ 22_nd_.—Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. Clear +skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch now and then, +very few really cold days. My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies +of the valley; and though, as I have said, I don’t admire the smell of +hyacinths in the spring when it seems wanting in youth and chastity +next to that of other flowers, I am glad enough now to bury my nose in +their heavy sweetness. In December one cannot afford to be fastidious; +besides, one is actually less fastidious about everything in the +winter. The keen air braces soul as well as body into robustness, and +the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly welcome +then. + +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have often locked myself up +in a room alone, shutting out my unfinished duties, to study the flower +catalogues and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the +spring. It is a fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional +charm when you know you ought to be doing something else, that +Christmas is at the door, that children and servants and farm hands +depend on you for their pleasure, and that, if you don’t see to the +decoration of the trees and house, and the buying of the presents, +nobody else will. The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and +with Duty snarling on the other side of the door. I don’t like +Duty—everything in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one’s +duty. Why cannot it be my duty to make lists and plans for the dear +garden? “And so it _is_,” I insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he +protested against what he called wasting my time upstairs. “No,” he +replied sagely; “your garden is not your duty, because it is your +Pleasure.” + +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly at my +disposal! Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given to have a +sage, and the combination of both is as rare as it is useful. Indeed, +in its practical utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it is a +sofa my neighbour has bought as a Christmas surprise for her husband, +and which she showed me the last time I called there—a beautiful +invention, as she explained, combining a bedstead, a sofa, and a chest +of drawers, and into which you put your clothes, and on top of which +you put yourself, and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and +you happen to be using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the +bedclothes inside, and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa +and looking for all the world as though you had been expecting visitors +for hours. + +“Pray, does he wear pyjamas?” I inquired. + +But she had never heard of pyjamas. + +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. I want to have a border +all yellow, every shade of yellow from fieriest orange to nearly white, +and the amount of work and studying of gardening books it costs me will +only be appreciated by beginners like myself. I have been weeks +planning it, and it is not nearly finished. I want it to be a +succession of glories from May till the frosts, and the chief feature +is to be the number of “ardent marigolds”—flowers that I very tenderly +love—and nasturtiums. The nasturtiums are to be of every sort and +shade, and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show their +lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. Then there are to be +eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, +yellow violas, yellow stocks, yellow sweet-peas, yellow +lupins—everything that is yellow or that has a yellow variety. The +place I have chosen for it is a long, wide border in the sun, at the +foot of a grassy slope crowned with lilacs and pines, and facing +southeast. You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a corner, +are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. I want it +to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, cool path through the +wood. + +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon the probable +difference between the idea and its realisation. I am ignorant, and the +gardener is, I do believe, still more so; for he was forcing some +tulips, and they have all shrivelled up and died, and he says he cannot +imagine why. Besides, he is in love with the cook, and is going to +marry her after Christmas, and refuses to enter into any of my plans +with the enthusiasm they deserve, but sits with vacant eye dreamily +chopping wood from morning till night to keep the beloved one’s kitchen +fire well supplied. I cannot understand any one preferring cooks to +marigolds; those future marigolds, shadowy as they are, and whose seeds +are still sleeping at the seedsman’s, have shone through my winter days +like golden lamps. + +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first thing I +should do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I should +have the delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands +and need not waste time explaining what I want done to somebody else. +It is dull work giving orders and trying to describe the bright visions +of one’s brain to a person who has no visions and no brain, and who +thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias edged with blue. + +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those +humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my +soil is by no means all that it might be, and to most plants the +climate is rather trying. I feel really grateful to any flower that is +sturdy and willing enough to flourish here. Pansies seem to like the +place and so do sweet-peas; pinks don’t, and after much coaxing gave +hardly any flowers last summer. Nearly all the roses were a success, in +spite of the sandy soil, except the tea-rose Adam, which was covered +with buds ready to open, when they suddenly turned brown and died, and +three standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. I had +been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description in the catalogues +being specially fascinating, and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I +got. “Never be excited, my dears, about _anything_,” shall be the +advice I will give the three babies when the time comes to take them +out to parties, “or, if you are, don’t show it. If by nature you are +volcanoes, at least be only smouldering ones. Don’t look pleased, don’t +look interested, don’t, above all things, look eager. Calm indifference +should be written on every feature of your faces. Never show that you +like any one person, or any one thing. Be cool, languid, and reserved. +If you don’t do as your mother tells you and are just gushing, frisky, +young idiots, snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you’ll marry princes and live happily ever after.” + +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of the world the more you +are pleased to see a person the less is he pleased to see you; whereas, +if you are disagreeable, he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance +expanding into wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. +But I was not prepared for that sort of thing in a rose, and was +disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the best place in the garden—warm, +sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared with the tenderest care; +he was given the most dainty mixture of compost, clay, and manure; he +was watered assiduously all through the drought when more willing +flowers got nothing; and he refused to do anything but look black and +shrivel. He did not die, but neither did he live—he just existed; and +at the end of the summer not one of him had a scrap more shoot or leaf +than when he was first put in in April. It would have been better if he +had died straight away, for then I should have known what to do; as it +is, there he is still occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully +for the winter, excluding kinder roses, and probably intending to +repeat the same conduct next year. Well, trials are the portion of +mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any case it is better +to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that with plants you know +that it is you who are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the +other way about—and who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of +injured innocence, and known them to be grievous? + +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing to +provoke such an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy +little Christmas alone with the Man of Wrath and the babies. Fate +decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, if I look forward to anything, Fate +steps in and decrees otherwise; I don’t know why it should, but it +does. I had not even invited these good ladies—like greatness on the +modest, they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet singer of the +summer, whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly thought I +had seen the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I +would have her over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she +didn’t like him in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, +full of sympathy, I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other +is Minora. + +Why I have to have Minora I don’t know, for I was not even aware of her +existence a fortnight ago. Then coming down cheerfully one morning to +breakfast—it was the very day after my return from England—I found a +letter from an English friend, who up till then had been perfectly +innocuous, asking me to befriend Minora. I read the letter aloud for +the benefit of the Man of Wrath, who was eating _Spickgans_, a delicacy +much sought after in these parts. “Do, my dear Elizabeth,” wrote my +friend, “take some notice of the poor thing. She is studying art in +Dresden, and has nowhere literally to go for Christmas. She is very +ambitious and hardworking—” + +“Then,” interrupted the Man of Wrath, “she is not pretty. Only ugly +girls work hard.” + +“—and she is really very clever—” + +“I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid,” again interrupted the +Man of Wrath. + +“—and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity on her she +will be very lonely.” + +“Then let her be lonely.” + +“Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to +think that her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a +season.” + +“I do not mind the distress of the mother.” + +“Oh, dear me,” I exclaimed impatiently, “I shall have to ask her to +come!” + +“If you _should_ be inclined,” the letter went on, “to play the good +Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would find Minora a +bright, intelligent companion—” + +“Minora?” questioned the Man of Wrath. + +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether +alarmingly zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, +looked up from her bread and milk. + +“It sounds like islands,” she remarked pensively. + +The governess coughed. + +“Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark,” explained her pupil. + +I looked at her severely. + +“If you are not careful, April,” I said, “you’ll be a genius when you +grow up and disgrace your parents.” + +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. I am afraid she +despises us because she thinks we are foreigners—an attitude of mind +quite British and wholly to her credit; but we, on the other hand, +regard _her_ as a foreigner, which, of course, makes things +complicated. + +“Shall I really have to have this strange girl?” I asked, addressing +nobody in particular and not expecting a reply. + +“You need not have her,” said the Man of Wrath composedly, “but you +will. You will write to-day and cordially invite her, and when she has +been here twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. I know you, my +dear.” + +“Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?” + +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually scenting a scene, and +is always ready to bring whole batteries of discretion and tact and +good taste to bear on us, and seems to know we are disputing in an +unseemly manner when we would never dream it ourselves but for the +warning of her downcast eyes. I would take my courage in both hands and +ask her to go, for besides this superfluity of discreet behaviour she +is, although only nursery, much too zealous, and inclined to be always +teaching and never playing; but, unfortunately, the April baby adores +her and is sure there never was any one so beautiful before. She comes +every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of her wardrobe, and +feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; and Miss Jones looks +offended and purses up her lips. In common with most governesses, she +has a little dark down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared +one day at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, having +achieved it after much struggling, with the aid of a lead pencil and +unbounded love. Miss Jones put her in the corner for impertinence. I +wonder why governesses are so unpleasant. The Man of Wrath says it is +because they are not married. Without venturing to differ entirely from +the opinion of experience, I would add that the strain of continually +having to set an example must surely be very great. It is much easier, +and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, and +governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, and when +you want to be foolish it must be annoying to have to be wise. + +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, when the +carriage drove up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed me that +there was a strange girl on a bicycle a little way behind. I sent back +the carriage to pick her up, for it was dusk and the roads are +terrible. + +“But why do you have strange girls here at all?” asked Irais rather +peevishly, taking off her hat in the library before the fire, and +otherwise making herself very much at home; “I don’t like them. I’m not +sure that they’re not worse than husbands who are out of order. Who is +she? She would bicycle from the station, and is, I am sure, the first +woman who has done it. The little boys threw stones at her.” + +“Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. Never +mind her. Let us have tea in peace before she comes.” + +“But we should be much happier without her,” she grumbled. “Weren’t we +happy enough in the summer, Elizabeth—just you and I?” + +“Yes, indeed we were,” I answered heartily, putting my arms round her. +The flame of my affection for Irais burns very brightly on the day of +her arrival; besides, this time I have prudently provided against her +sinning with the salt-cellars by ordering them to be handed round like +vegetable dishes. We had finished tea and she had gone up to her room +to dress before Minora and her bicycle were got here. I hurried out to +meet her, feeling sorry for her, plunged into a circle of strangers at +such a very personal season as Christmas. But she was not very shy; +indeed, she was less shy than I was, and lingered in the hall, giving +the servants directions to wipe the snow off the tyres of her machine +before she lent an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. + +“I couldn’t make your man understand me at the station,” she said at +last, when her mind was at rest about her bicycle; “I asked him how far +it was, and what the roads were like, and he only smiled. Is he German? +But of course he is—how odd that he didn’t understand. You speak +English very well,—very well indeed, do you know.” By this time we were +in the library, and she stood on the hearth-rug warming her back while +I poured her out some tea. + +“What a quaint room,” she remarked, looking round, “and the hall is so +curious too. Very old, isn’t it? There’s a lot of copy here.” + +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival and had come +in with us, began to look about on the carpet. “Copy?” he inquired, +“Where’s copy?” + +“Oh—material, you know, for a book. I’m just jotting down what strikes +me in your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book +form.” She spoke very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. + +“My dear,” I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room +and shut the door and Minora was safely in hers, “what do you think—she +writes books!” + +“What—the bicycling girl?” + +“Yes—Minora—imagine it!” + +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. + +“How dreadful!” murmured Irais. “I never met a young girl who did that +before.” + +“She says this place is full of copy.” + +“Full of what?” + +“That’s what you make books with.” + +“Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is always a +bore among good friends, but one can generally manage her. But a girl +who writes books—why, it isn’t respectable! And you can’t snub that +sort of people; they’re unsnubbable.” + +“Oh, but we’ll try!” I cried, with such heartiness that we both +laughed. + +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she lingered so +long after dinner in the hall, which is cold, that the Man of Wrath put +on his fur coat by way of a gentle hint. His hints are always gentle. + +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and the nuns and +Gustavus Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book began to take down +what I said. I at once relapsed into silence. + +“Well?” she said. + +“That’s all.” + +“Oh, but you’ve only just begun.” + +“It doesn’t go any further. Won’t you come into the library?” + +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire and warmed +herself, and we sat in a row and were cold. She has a wonderfully good +profile, which is irritating. The wind, however, is tempered to the +shorn lamb by her eyes being set too closely together. + +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, contemplated her +critically beneath her long eyelashes. “You are writing a book?” she +asked presently. + +“Well—yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, you +know, of your country. Anything that strikes me as curious or amusing—I +jot it down, and when I have time shall work it up into something, I +daresay.” + +“Are you not studying painting?” + +“Yes, but I can’t study that for ever. We have an English proverb: +‘Life is short and Art is long’—too long, I sometimes think—and writing +is a great relaxation when I am tired.” + +“What shall you call it?” + +“Oh, I thought of calling it _Journeyings in Germany_. It sounds well, +and would be correct. Or _Jottings from German Journeyings_,—I haven’t +quite decided yet which.” + +“By the author of _Prowls in Pomerania_, you might add,” suggested +Irais. + +“And _Drivel from Dresden_,” said I. + +“And _Bosh from Berlin_,” added Irais. + +Minora stared. “I don’t think those two last ones would do,” she said, +“because it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is rather +a good title,” she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her +note-book. “I think I’ll just jot that down.” + +“If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your +book?” asked Irais. + +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. + +“And have _you_ no suggestions to make, Sage?” asked Irais, turning to +the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. + +“Oh, do you call him Sage?” cried Minora; “and always in English?” + +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and +were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her +note-book. The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded +to under his very nose by our new guest as “him.” + +“Husbands are always sages,” said I gravely. + +“Though sages are not always husbands,” said Irais with equal gravity. +“Sages and husbands—sage and husbands—” she went on musingly, “what +does that remind you of, Miss Minora?” + +“Oh, I know,—how stupid of me!” cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in +mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, “sage +and,—why,—yes,—no,—yes, of course—oh,” disappointedly, “but that’s +vulgar—I can’t put it in.” + +“What is vulgar?” I asked. + +“She thinks sage and onions is vulgar,” said Irais languidly; “but it +isn’t, it is very good.” She got up and walked to the piano, and, +sitting down, began, after a little wandering over the keys, to sing. + +“Do you play?” I asked Minora. + +“Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice.” + +I said no more. I know what _that_ sort of playing is. + +When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to +speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. “What is the matter with her?” +murmured Irais. + +“I thought, perhaps,” said Minora in English, “you might prefer to talk +German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk—” + +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Irais. “We like airing our English—don’t +we, Elizabeth?” + +“I don’t want my German to get rusty though,” said Minora; “I shouldn’t +like to forget it.” + +“Oh, but isn’t there an English song,” said Irais, twisting round her +neck as she preceded us upstairs, “‘’Tis folly to remember, ’tis wisdom +to forget’?” + +“You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope,” I said hastily. + +“What room is she in?” asked Irais. + +“No. 12.” + +“Oh!—do you believe in ghosts?” + +Minora turned pale. + +“What nonsense,” said I; “we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you +want anything, mind you ring.” + +“And if you see anything curious in that room,” called Irais from her +bedroom door, “mind you jot it down.” + + + + +_December_ 27_th_—It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas as +a bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are +invited to over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just +cause. As a matter of fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic +institutions possible, if observed in the proper manner, and after +having been more or less unpleasant to everybody for a whole year, it +is a blessing to be forced on that one day to be amiable, and it is +certainly delightful to be able to give presents without being haunted +by the conviction that you are spoiling the recipient, and will suffer +for it afterward. Servants are only big children, and are made just as +happy as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, for +days beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden they +expect to meet the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They +firmly believe that it is thus their presents are brought, and it is +such a charming idea that Christmas would be worth celebrating for its +sake alone. + +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve entirely on me, +and it is not very easy work, with so many people in our own house and +on each of the farms, and all the children, big and little, expecting +their share of happiness. The library is uninhabitable for several days +before and after, as it is there that we have the trees and presents. +All down one side are the trees, and the other three sides are lined +with tables, a separate one for each person in the house. When the +trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance shining down on the +happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, and the number of +times I have had to run up and down stairs, and the various aches in +head and feet, and enjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby +is ushered in, then the others and ourselves according to age, then the +servants, then come the head inspector and his family, the other +inspectors from the different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and +secretaries, and then all the children, troops and troops of them—the +big ones leading the little ones by the hand and carrying the babies in +their arms, and the mothers peeping round the door. As many as can get +in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or three carols; then they +are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, making room for the +next batch. My three babies sang lustily too, whether they happened to +know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses in honour of +the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed in a low-necked and +short-sleeved garment, after the manner of Teutonic infants, whatever +the state of the thermometer. Her arms are like miniature +prize-fighter’s arms—I never saw such things; they are the pride and +joy of her little nurse, who had tied them up with blue ribbons, and +kept on kissing them. I shall certainly not be able to take her to +balls when she grows up, if she goes on having arms like that. + +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. +The April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, which +she said she was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but because +she was so sorry for him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me +absently, and went away, only the April baby glancing at the trees as +she passed and making them a curtesy. + +“Good-bye, trees,” I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese doll +bow to them, which he did, in a very languid and blasé fashion. +“_You’ll_ never see such trees again,” she told him, giving him a +vindictive shake, “for you’ll be brokened _long_ before next time.” + +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. + +“Thank the _Christkind_ so _much_, Mummy, won’t you, for all the lovely +things He brought us. I suppose you’re writing to Him now, isn’t you?” + +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, and we +were perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least two +days it brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. +Happiness is so wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety far +more effectually than any amount of trials and griefs, and an +unexpected pleasure is the surest means of bringing me to my knees. In +spite of the protestations of some peculiarly constructed persons that +they are the better for trials, I don’t believe it. Such things must +sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, and make us kinder, and +more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it behoves us to be more +thankful for trials than for blessings? We were meant to be happy, and +to accept all the happiness offered with thankfulness—indeed, we are +none of us ever thankful enough, and yet we each get so much, so very +much, more than we deserve. I know a woman—she stayed with me last +summer—who rejoices grimly when those she loves suffer. She believes +that it is our lot, and that it braces us and does us good, and she +would shield no one from even unnecessary pain; she weeps with the +sufferer, but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her +continue in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the +beauty and the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire +to possess one; her convictions have the sad gray colouring of the +dingy streets and houses she lives amongst—the sad colour of humanity +in masses. Submission to what people call their “lot” is simply +ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and +take another; strike out for yourself; don’t listen to the shrieks of +your relations, to their gibes or their entreaties; don’t let your own +microscopic set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don’t be +afraid of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next +house, when all the world is before you new and shining, and everything +is possible, if you will only be energetic and independent and seize +opportunity by the scruff of the neck. + +“To hear you talk,” said Irais, “no one would ever imagine that you +dream away your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in +your life seized anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is +scruff? I hope I have not got any on me.” And she craned her neck +before the glass. + +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon +Irais wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a +book; so I called in Miss Jones and the babies—it was Miss Jones’s last +public appearance, as I shall relate—and after working for the best +part of two days they were finished, and looked like lovely ladies in +widespreading, sparkling petticoats, holding up their skirts with +glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long description of them for a +chapter of her book which is headed _Noel_,—I saw that much, because +she left it open on the table while she went to talk to Miss Jones. +They were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said to be +natural to take to one’s own countrymen, I am unable altogether to +sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection. + +“I wonder what they talk about?” I said to Irais yesterday, when there +was no getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in +conversation with Miss Jones. + +“Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think +they are clever, and then they talk rubbish.” + +“Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever.” + +“I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your +governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine +she must have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can’t hear that +every day. What is the matter with her?” + +“I don’t think she feels quite as proper as she looks,” I said +doubtfully; I was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones’s +expression. + +“But that must be rather nice,” said Irais. “It would be awful for her +if she felt exactly the same as she looks.” + +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, and +the April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, +leaving the door open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying— + +“Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be +terrible. Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have +continually to pose before their flock as such. As for governesses, +Miss Minora, I know what I am saying when I affirm that there is +nothing more intolerable than to have to be polite, and even humble, to +persons whose weaknesses and follies are glaringly apparent in every +word they utter, and to be forced by the presence of children and +employers to a dignity of manner in no way corresponding to one’s +feelings. The grave father of a family, who was probably one of the +least respectable of bachelors, is an interesting study at his own +table, where he is constrained to assume airs of infallibility merely +because his children are looking at him. The fact of his being a parent +does not endow him with any supreme and sudden virtue; and I can assure +you that among the eyes fixed upon him, not the least critical and +amused are those of the humble person who fills the post of governess.” + +“Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!” we heard Minora say in accents of +rapture, while we sat transfixed with horror at these sentiments. “Do +you mind if I put that down in my book? You say it all so beautifully.” + +“Without a few hours of relaxation,” continued Miss Jones, “of private +indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed in public, who could +wade through days of correct behaviour? There would be no reaction, no +room for better impulses, no place for repentance. Parents, priests, +and governesses would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has +a quiet moment in which she can take off her corsets.” + +“My dear, what a firebrand!” whispered Irais. I got up and went in. +They were sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing +admiringly into Miss Jones’s face, which wore a very different +expression from the one of sour and unwilling propriety I have been +used to seeing. + +“May I ask you to come to tea?” I said to Minora. “And I should like to +have the children a little while.” + +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door open until she +had gone in and the two babies had followed. They had been playing at +stuffing each other’s ears with pieces of newspaper while Miss Jones +provided Minora with noble thoughts for her work, and had to be +tortured afterward with tweezers. I said nothing to Minora, but kept +her with us till dinner-time, and this morning we went for a long +sleigh-drive. When we came in to lunch there was no Miss Jones. + +“Is Miss Jones ill?” asked Minora. + +“She is gone,” I said. + +“Gone?” + +“Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?” asked Irais +blandly; and we talked resolutely of something else. + +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, and +it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often +are. It is enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, poor +thing, that she should have preferred the society of a Miss Jones to +that of Irais and myself. + +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. “You look so +pale,” she said; “are you not well?” + +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one who likes +to be thought a sufferer. “I have a slight headache,” she replied +gently. + +“I hope you are not going to be ill,” said Irais with great concern, +“because there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means +well, I believe he is rather rough.” Minora was plainly startled. “But +what do you do if you are ill?” she asked. + +“Oh, we are never ill,” said I; “the very knowledge that there would be +no one to cure us seems to keep us healthy.” + +“And if any one takes to her bed,” said Irais, “Elizabeth always calls +in the cow-doctor.” + +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part +of the world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised +creature besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. +Whatever her reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. + + + + +_January_ 1_st_.—The service on New Year’s Eve is the only one in the +whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and +then the very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial +produce an effect that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. +Last night we took Irais and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles +in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, and blowing great guns. We sat wrapped +up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a funeral procession. + +“We are going to the burial of our last year’s sins,” said Irais, as we +started; and there certainly was a funereal sort of feeling in the air. +Up in our gallery pew we tried to decipher our chorales by the light of +the spluttering tallow candles stuck in holes in the woodwork, the +flames wildly blown about by the draughts. The wind banged against the +windows in great gusts, screaming louder than the organ, and +threatening to blow out the agitated lights together. The parson in his +gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a framework of dusty carved angels, took +on an awful appearance of menacing Authority as he raised his voice to +make himself heard above the clatter. Sitting there in the dark, I felt +very small, and solitary, and defenceless, alone in a great, big, black +world. The church was as cold as a tomb; some of the candles guttered +and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke of death and judgment; +I thought I heard a child’s voice screaming, and could hardly believe +it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; all my +faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I +should probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise +idea. If it had not been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so +despairingly, I should have paid little attention to the threats +issuing from the pulpit; but, as it was, I fell to making good +resolutions. This is always a bad sign,—only those who break them make +them; and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is right as +it comes, any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely +superfluous. I have for some years past left off making them on New +Year’s Eve, and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing +so last night; for I have long since discovered that, though the year +and the resolutions may be new, I myself am not, and it is worse than +useless putting new wine into old bottles. + +“But I am not an old bottle,” said Irais indignantly, when I held forth +to her to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored +to all my philosophy by the warmth and light, “and I find my +resolutions carry me very nicely into the spring. I revise them at the +end of each month, and strike out the unnecessary ones. By the end of +April they have been so severely revised that there are none left.” + +“There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new +contents would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, +and the practice of your resolutions would lose its bitterness by +becoming a habit.” + +She shook her head. “Such things never lose their bitterness,” she +said, “and that is why I don’t let them cling to me right into the +summer. When May comes, I give myself up to jollity with all the rest +of the world, and am too busy being happy to bother about anything I +may have resolved when the days were cold and dark.” + +“And that is just why I love you,” I thought. She often says what I +feel. + +“I wonder,” she went on after a pause, “whether men ever make +resolutions?” + +“I don’t think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. It is a +nice sort of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, giving way to +endless grief and penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes in +contrition; but it is silly. Why cry over things that are done? Why do +naughty things at all, if you are going to repent afterward? Nobody is +naughty unless they like being naughty; and nobody ever really repents +unless they are afraid they are going to be found out.” + +“By ‘nobody’ of course you mean women,” said Irais. + +“Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the +courage of their opinions.” + +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais in the amiably +polite tone she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. + +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting round the fire, +waiting for the New Year, and sipping _Glühwein_, prepared at a small +table by the Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, and rather nasty, but +it is proper to drink it on this one night, so of course we did. + +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon discovered +that, and laugh about it when we are alone together. I can understand +her disliking Irais, but she must be a perverse creature not to like +me. Irais has poked fun at her, and I have been, I hope, very kind; yet +we are bracketed together in her black books. It is also apparent that +she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an interesting example of an +ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is disposed to take him +under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against us. He never +speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, as far as +Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, and sits +sphinx-like and impenetrable while she takes us to task about some +remark of a profane nature that we may have addressed to him. One +night, some days after her arrival, she developed a skittishness of +manner which has since disappeared, and tried to be playful with him; +but you might as well try to be playful with a graven image. The wife +of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the first after a +series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health of all +parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink a +glass off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. +Minora thought the incident typical of German manners, and not only +made notes about it, but joined heartily in the health-drinking, and +afterward grew skittish. + +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the +Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England; and, +to induce us to learn, she played the tune to us on the piano. We +remained untouched by its beauties, each buried in an easy-chair +toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst those toes were those of the Man +of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and smoking. Minora +volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, danced +solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look, +and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve +to be placed in Minora’s list of disagreeable people side by side with +Irais? Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. + +“It wants the music, of course,” observed Minora breathlessly, darting +in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing +at the Man of Wrath. + +No answer from anybody. + +“It is _such_ a pretty dance,” she panted again, after a few more +gyrations. + +No answer. + +“And is all the rage at home.” + +No answer. + +“Do let me teach you. Won’t _you_ try, Herr Sage?” + +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she +always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to +every one else, that he resents it. + +“Oh come, put away that tiresome old book,” she went on gaily, as he +did not move; “I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that +you just nod over. Dancing is much better for you.” Irais and I looked +at one another quite frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the +unhappy girl actually laid hold forcibly of his book, and, with a +playful little shriek, ran away with it into the next room, hugging it +to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she +ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. Then the +Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of his +cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his +own rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, +I must say, been skittish since. + +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais, “because this sort +of conversation is likely to do you good.” + +“I always listen when people talk sensibly,” replied Minora, stirring +her grog. + +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. “Do you agree +with our hostess’s description of women?” she asked after a pause. + +“As nobodies? No, of course I do not.” + +“Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally nobodies in +our country. Did you know that women are forbidden to go to political +meetings here?” + +“Really?” Out came the note-book. + +“The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings of women, +children, and idiots.” + +“Children and idiots—I understand that,” said Minora; “but women—and +classed with children and idiots?” + +“Classed with children and idiots,” repeated Irais, gravely nodding her +head. “Did you know that the law forbids females of any age to ride on +the top of omnibuses or tramcars?” + +“Not really?” + +“Do you know why?” + +“I can’t imagine.” + +“Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps +catch a glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles.” + +“But what—” + +“Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?” + +“But I don’t see how a stocking—” + +“With stripes round it,” said Irais. + +“And darns in it,” I added. + +“—could possibly be pernicious?” + +“‘The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,’” +said Irais. “Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany.” + +“I never know,” complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, “whether +you are in earnest or not.” + +“Don’t you?” said Irais sweetly. + +“Is it true,” appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons +in the background, “that your law classes women with children and +idiots?” + +“Certainly,” he answered promptly, “and a very proper classification, +too.” + +We all looked blank. “That’s rude,” said I at last. + +“Truth is always rude, my dear,” he replied complacently. Then he +added, “If I were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had +previously enjoyed the privilege, as I have been doing lately, of +listening to the conversation of you three young ladies, I should make +precisely the same classification.” + +Even Minora was incensed at this. + +“You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we are idiots,” +said Irais. + +“Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,—nice little agreeable +children. I very much like to hear you talk together. It is all so +young and fresh what you think and what you believe, and not of the +least consequence to any one.” + +“Not of the least consequence?” cried Minora. “What we believe is of +very great consequence indeed to us.” + +“Are you jeering at our beliefs?” inquired Irais sternly. + +“Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb or change your +pretty little beliefs. It is your chief charm that you always believe +every-thing. How desperate would our case be if young ladies only +believed facts, and never accepted another person’s assurance, but +preferred the evidence of their own eyes! They would have no illusions, +and a woman without illusions is the dreariest and most difficult thing +to manage possible.” + +“Thing?” protested Irais. + +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it from time to time +by holding forth at unnecessary length. He took up his stand now with +his back to the fire, and a glass of _Glühwein_ in his hand. Minora had +hardly heard his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, and +sat with her pencil raised, ready to fix for ever the wisdom that +should flow from his lips. + +“What would become of poetry if women became so sensible that they +turned a deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? That love does +indulge in platitudes I suppose you will admit.” He looked at Irais. + +“Yes, they all say exactly the same thing,” she acknowledged. + +“Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, +if the listener’s want of imagination was such as to enable her only to +distinguish one victim in the picture, and that one herself?” + +Minora took that down word for word,—much good may it do her. + +“Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused he will die, if +his assurances merely elicit a recommendation to diet himself, and take +plenty of outdoor exercise? Women are responsible for such lies, +because they believe them. Their amazing vanity makes them swallow +flattery so gross that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to +tell the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to. Who +indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than the lover who +hopes, and has not yet obtained? He will, like the nightingale, sing +with unceasing modulations, display all his talent, untiringly repeat +his sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his song, like the +nightingale’s, immediately ceases, never again to be heard.” + +“Take that down,” murmured Irais aside to Minora—unnecessary advice, +for her pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. + +“A woman’s vanity is so immeasurable that, after having had ninety-nine +object-lessons in the difference between promise and performance and +the emptiness of pretty speeches, the beginning of the hundredth will +find her lending the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence of +flattery as she did on the occasion of the first. What can the +exhortations of the strong-minded sister, who has never had these +experiences, do for such a woman? It is useless to tell her she is +man’s victim, that she is his plaything, that she is cheated, +down-trodden, kept under, laughed at, shabbily treated in every +way—that is not a true statement of the case. She is simply the victim +of her own vanity, and against that, against the belief in her own +fascinations, against the very part of herself that gives all the +colour to her life, who shall expect a woman to take up arms?” + +“Are you so vain, Elizabeth?” inquired Irais with a shocked face, “and +had you lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine before +you reached your final destiny?” + +“I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose,” I replied, “for nobody ever +wanted me to listen to blandishments.” + +Minora sighed. + +“I like to hear you talk together about the position of women,” he went +on, “and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly the +position they are fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a +better, no power on earth will be able to keep them out of it. +Meanwhile, let me warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded +women wish to see you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are +invariably plain. The pretty ones would rather see men their slaves +than their equals.” + +“You know,” said Irais, frowning, “that I consider myself +strong-minded.” + +“And never rise till lunch-time?” + +Irais blushed. Although I don’t approve of such conduct, it is very +convenient in more ways than one; I get through my housekeeping +undisturbed, and whenever she is disposed to lecture me, I begin about +this habit of hers. Her conscience must be terribly stricken on the +point, for she is by no means as a rule given to meekness. + +“A woman without vanity would be unattackable,” resumed the Man of +Wrath. “When a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, she +is led solely by her own vanity; for in these days of policemen no +young woman can be forced against her will from the path of virtue, and +the cries of the injured are never heard until the destroyer begins to +express his penitence for having destroyed. If his passion could remain +at white-heat and he could continue to feed her ear with the +protestations she loves, no principles of piety or virtue would disturb +the happiness of his companion; for a mournful experience teaches that +piety begins only where passion ends, and that principles are strongest +where temptations are most rare.” + +“But what has all this to do with us?” I inquired severely. + +“You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, and I merely +wish to justify it,” he answered. “Creatures who habitually say _yes_ +to everything a man proposes, when no one can oblige them to say it, +and when it is so often fatal, are plainly not responsible beings.” + +“I shall never say it to you again, my dear man,” I said. + +“And not only _that_ fatal weakness,” he continued, “but what is there, +candidly, to distinguish you from children? You are older, but not +wiser,—really not so wise, for with years you lose the common sense you +had as children. Have you ever heard a group of women talking +reasonably together?” + +“Yes—we do!” Irais and I cried in a breath. + +“It has interested me,” went on the Man of Wrath, “in my idle moments, +to listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little +stories they told of their best friends who were absent, to note the +spiteful little digs they gave their best friends who were present, to +watch the utter incredulity with which they listened to the tale of +some other woman’s conquests, the radiant good faith they displayed in +connection with their own, the instant collapse into boredom, if some +topic of so-called general interest, by some extraordinary chance, were +introduced.” + +“You must have belonged to a particularly nice set,” remarked Irais. + +“And as for politics,” he said, “I have never heard them mentioned +among women.” + +“Children and idiots are not interested in such things,” I said. + +“And we are much too frightened of being put in prison,” said Irais. + +“In prison?” echoed Minora. + +“Don’t you know,” said Irais, turning to her “that if you talk about +such things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?” + +“But why?” + +“But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant nothing but what +was innocent, your words may have suggested something less innocent to +the evil minds of your hearers; and then the law steps in, and calls it +_dolus eventualis_, and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to +prison and are punished as you deserve to be.” + +Minora looked mystified. + +“That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them,” said +the Man of Wrath; “they simply do not interest you. Or it may be, that +you do not consider your female friends’ opinions worth listening to, +for you certainly display an astonishing thirst for information when +male politicians are present. I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly +in her twenties, sitting a whole evening drinking in the doubtful +wisdom of an elderly political star, with every appearance of eager +interest. He was a bimetallic star, and was giving her whole +pamphletsful of information.” + +“She wanted to make up to him for some reason,” said Irais, “and got +him to explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken +in. Now which was the sillier in that case?” + +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, beating +her foot impatiently on the carpet. + +“She wanted to be thought clever,” said the Man of Wrath. “What puzzled +me,” he went on musingly, “was that she went away apparently as serene +and happy as when she came. The explanation of the principles of +bimetallism produce, as a rule, a contrary effect.” + +“Why, she hadn’t been listening,” cried Irais, “and your simple star +had been making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. + +“Prattle, prattle, simple star, +Bimetallic, _wunderbar_. +Though you’re given to describe +Woman as a _dummes Weib_. +You yourself are sillier far, +Prattling, bimetallic star!” + +“No doubt she had understood very little,” said the Man of Wrath, +taking no notice of this effusion. + +“And no doubt the gentleman hadn’t understood much either.” Irais was +plainly irritated. + +“Your opinion of woman,” said Minora in a very small voice, “is not a +high one. But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree that no one +could take her place?” + +“If you are thinking of hospital-nurses,” I said, “I must tell you that +I believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife instead of a +strange woman to nurse him when he is sick.” + +“But,” said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being +knocked about, “the sick-room is surely the very place of all others in +which a woman’s gentleness and tact are most valuable.” + +“Gentleness and tact?” repeated the Man of Wrath. “I have never met +those qualities in the professional nurse. According to my experience, +she is a disagreeable person who finds in private nursing exquisite +opportunities for asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate +mankind. I know of no more humiliating position for a man than to be in +bed having his feverish brow soothed by a sprucely-dressed strange +woman, bristling with starch and spotlessness. He would give half his +income for his clothes, and probably the other half if she would leave +him alone, and go away altogether. He feels her superiority through +every pore; he never before realised how absolutely inferior he is; he +is abjectly polite, and contemptibly conciliatory; if a friend comes to +see him, he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening behind +the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far more +intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really belongs to him; he +has read of ministering angels and the light touch of a woman’s hand, +but the day on which he can ring for his servant and put on his socks +in private fills him with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt +as a homesick schoolboy at the end of his first term.” + +Minora was silent. Irais’s foot was livelier than ever. The Man of +Wrath stood smiling blandly down upon us. You can’t argue with a person +so utterly convinced of his infallibility that he won’t even get angry +with you; so we sat round and said nothing. + +“If,” he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, “you doubt +the truth of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of +noble, self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the +rough places on the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try +for yourself, next time any one in your house is ill, whether the +actual fact in any way corresponds to the picturesque belief. The angel +who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in such a questionable shape, +that to the unimaginative she appears merely as an extremely +self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first of all in securing +her personal comfort, much given to complaints about her food and to +helplessness where she should be helpful, possessing an extraordinary +capacity for fancying herself slighted, or not regarded as the superior +being she knows herself to be, morbidly anxious lest the servants +should, by some mistake, treat her with offensive cordiality, pettish +if the patient gives more trouble than she had expected, intensely +injured and disagreeable if he is made so courageous by his +wretchedness as to wake her during the night—an act of desperation of +which I was guilty once, and once only. Oh, these good women! What sane +man wants to have to do with angels? And especially do we object to +having them about us when we are sick and sorry, when we feel in every +fibre what poor things we are, and when all our fortitude is needed to +enable us to bear our temporary inferiority patiently, without being +forced besides to assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness +towards the angel in the house.” + +There was a pause. + +“I didn’t know you could talk so much, Sage,” said Irais at length. + +“What would you have women do, then?” asked Minora meekly. Irais began +to beat her foot up and down again,—what did it matter what Men of +Wrath would have us do? “There are not,” continued Minora, blushing, +“husbands enough for every one, and the rest must do something.” + +“Certainly,” replied the oracle. “Study the art of pleasing by dress +and manner as long as you are of an age to interest us, and above all, +let all women, pretty and plain, married and single, study the art of +cookery. If you are an artist in the kitchen you will always be +esteemed.” + +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, has +learned to cook; I seem to have been the only one who was naughty and +wouldn’t. + +“Only be careful,” he went on, “in studying both arts, never to forget +the great truth that dinner precedes blandishments and not +blandishments dinner. A man must be made comfortable before he will +make love to you; and though it is true that if you offered him a +choice between _Spickgans_ and kisses, he would say he would take both, +yet he would invariably begin with the _Spickgans_, and allow the +kisses to wait.” + +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. “Your cynicism is +disgusting,” I said icily. + +“You two are always exceptions to anything I may say,” he said, smiling +amiably. + +He stooped and kissed Irais’s hand. She is inordinately vain of her +hands, and says her husband married her for their sake, which I can +quite believe. I am glad they are on her and not on Minora, for if +Minora had had them I should have been annoyed. Minora’s are bony, with +chilly-looking knuckles, ignored nails, and too much wrist. I feel very +well disposed towards her when my eye falls on them. She put one +forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed too. + +“Did you know,” said Irais, seeing the movement, “that it is the custom +here to kiss women’s hands?” + +“But only married women’s,” I added, not desiring her to feel out of +it, “never young girls’.” + +She drew it in again. “It is a pretty custom,” she said with a sigh; +and pensively inscribed it in her book. + + + + +_January_ 15_th_.—The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last +year’s horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down +to breakfast this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is +expensive, I find, when it has to be paid for out of one’s own private +pin-money. The Man of Wrath does not in the least want roses, or +flowering shrubs, or plantations, or new paths, and therefore, he asks, +why should he pay for them? So he does not and I do, and I have to make +up for it by not indulging all too riotously in new clothes, which is +no doubt very chastening. I certainly prefer buying new rose-trees to +new dresses, if I cannot comfortably have both; and I see a time coming +when the passion for my garden will have taken such a hold on me that I +shall not only entirely cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell +those that I already have. The garden is so big that everything has to +be bought wholesale; and I fear I shall not be able to go on much +longer with only one man and a stork, because the more I plant the more +there will be to water in the inevitable drought, and the watering is a +serious consideration when it means going backwards and forwards all +day long to a pump near the house, with a little water-cart. People +living in England, in almost perpetual mildness and moisture, don’t +really know what a drought is. If they have some weeks of cloudless +weather, it is generally preceded and followed by good rains; but we +have perhaps an hour’s shower every week, and then comes a month or six +weeks’ drought. The soil is very light, and dries so quickly that, +after the heaviest thunder-shower, I can walk over any of my paths in +my thin shoes; and to keep the garden even moderately damp it should +pour with rain regularly every day for three hours. My only means of +getting water is to go to the pump near the house, or to the little +stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little stream dries up +too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times difficult +to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. I possess +one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted with silver +birches in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted between +the birches with flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy—the +soil for pines and acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what +love will do—there are more roses in my garden than any other flower! +Next spring the bare places are to be filled with trees that I have +ordered: pines behind the delicate acacias, and startling +mountain-ashes, oaks, copper-beeches, maples, larches, +juniper-trees—was it not Elijah who sat down to rest under a +juniper-tree? I have often wondered how he managed to get under it. It +is a compact little tree, not more than two to three yards high here, +and all closely squeezed up together. Perhaps they grew more +aggressively where he was. By the time the babies have grown old and +disagreeable it will be very pretty here, and then possibly they won’t +like it; and, if they have inherited the Man of Wrath’s indifference to +gardens, they will let it run wild and leave it to return to the state +in which I found it. Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to +live in it, or to come to such a lonely place at all, and then of +course its fate is sealed. My only comfort is that husbands don’t +flourish in the desert, and that the three will have to wait a long +time before enough are found to go round. Mothers tell me that it is a +dreadful business finding one husband; how much more painful then to +have to look for three at once!—the babies are so nearly the same age +that they only just escaped being twins. But I won’t look. I can +imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, I +don’t think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. I +shall do my best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love +the garden, and out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a +spark of their mother in them, they will want and ask for nothing +better. My hope of success is however exceedingly small, and there is +probably a fearful period in store for me when I shall be taken every +day during the winter to the distant towns to balls—a poor old mother +shivering in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made to start +after an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next +morning. Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go +to “partings” as they call them, the April baby announcing her +intention of beginning to do so when she is twelve. “Are _you_ twelve, +Mummy?” she asked. + +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am trying to find +another. It is grievous changing so often—in two years I shall have had +three—because at each change a great part of my plants and plans +necessarily suffers. Seeds get lost, seedlings are not pricked out in +time, places already sown are planted with something else, and there is +confusion out of doors and despair in my heart. But he was to have +married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost and immediately left, and he +is going after her as soon as he can, and meanwhile is wasting visibly +away. What she saw was doors that are locked opening with a great +clatter all by themselves _on the hinge-side_, and then somebody +invisible cursed at her. These phenomena now go by the name of “the +ghost.” She asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had never been +in a place where there was a ghost before. I suggested that she should +try and get used to it; but she thought it would be wasting time, and +she looked so ill that I let her go, and the garden has to suffer. I +don’t know why it should be given to cooks to see such interesting +things and withheld from me, but I have had two others since she left, +and they both have seen the ghost. Minora grows very silent as bed-time +approaches, and relents towards Irais and myself; and, after having +shown us all day how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles +are brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice anxiously +inquired whether Irais is sure she does not object to sleeping alone. + +“If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company,” she +said; “I don’t mind at all, I assure you.” + +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, and has told me +she would rather sleep with fifty ghosts than with one Minora. + +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her parent’s +bedside I have seen a good deal of the babies; and it is so nice +without a governess that I would put off engaging another for a year or +two, if it were not that I should in so doing come within the reach of +the arm of the law, which is what every German spends his life in +trying to avoid. The April baby will be six next month, and, after her +sixth birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to receive a +visit from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the +state of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, +all sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, +probably beginning with fines, and going on _crescendo_ to dungeons if, +owing to gaps between governesses and difficulties in finding the right +one, we persisted in our evil courses. Shades of the prison-house begin +to close here upon the growing boy, and prisons compass the Teuton +about on every side all through life to such an extent that he has to +walk very delicately indeed if he would stay outside them and pay for +their maintenance. Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect to +teach their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, and +are apt to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector into their +homes; but it does not much matter after all, and I daresay it is very +good for us to be worried; indeed, a philosopher of my acquaintance +declares that people who are not regularly and properly worried are +never any good for anything. In the eye of the law we are all sinners, +and every man is held to be guilty until he has proved that he is +innocent. + +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly trying to get +out of their way for several days, she thought it better to resign +herself, and make the best of it by regarding them as copy, and using +them to fill a chapter in her book. So she took to dogging their +footsteps wherever they went, attended their uprisings and their lyings +down, engaged them, if she could, in intelligent conversation, went +with them into the garden to study their ways when they were sleighing, +drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a burden to them. +This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write the +result with the Man of Wrath’s typewriter, borrowed whenever her notes +for any chapter have reached the state of ripeness necessary for the +process she describes as “throwing into form.” She writes everything +with a typewriter, even her private letters. + +“Don’t forget to put in something about a mother’s knee,” said Irais; +“you can’t write effectively about children without that.” + +“Oh, of course I shall mention that,” replied Minora. + +“And pink toes,” I added. “There are always toes, and they are never +anything but pink.” + +“I have that somewhere,” said Minora, turning over her notes. + +“But, after all, babies are not a German speciality,” said Irais, “and +I don’t quite see why you should bring them into a book of German +travels. Elizabeth’s babies have each got the fashionable number of +arms and legs, and are exactly the same as English ones.” + +“Oh, but they can’t be _just_ the same, you know,” said Minora, looking +worried. “It must make a difference living here in this place, and +eating such odd things, and never having a doctor, and never being ill. +Children who have never had measles and those things can’t be quite the +same as other children; it must all be in their systems and can’t get +out for some reason or other. And a child brought up on chicken and +rice-pudding must be different to a child that eats _Spickgans_ and +liver sausages. And they _are_ different; I can’t tell in what way, but +they certainly are; and I think if I steadily describe them from the +materials I have collected the last three days, I may perhaps hit on +the points of difference.” + +“Why bother about points of difference?” asked Irais. “I should write +some little thing, bringing in the usual parts of the picture, such as +knees and toes, and make it mildly pathetic.” + +“But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do,” said Minora +plaintively; “I have so little experience of children.” + +“Then why write it at all?” asked that sensible person Elizabeth. + +“I have as little experience as you,” said Irais, “because I have no +children; but if you don’t yearn after startling originality, nothing +is easier than to write bits about them. I believe I could do a dozen +in an hour.” + +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, and scribbled +for about five minutes. “There,” she said, throwing it to Minora, “you +may have it—pink toes and all complete.” + +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: + +“When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at bed-time my stale +and battered soul is filled with awe. All sorts of vague memories crowd +into my mind—memories of my own mother and myself—how many years +ago!—of the sweet helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in her +arms, and undressed, and put in my cot, without being wakened; of the +angels I believed in; of little children coming straight from heaven, +and still being surrounded, so long as they were good, by the shadow of +white wings,—all the dear poetic nonsense learned, just as my baby is +learning it, at her mother’s knee. She has not an idea of the beauty of +the charming things she is told, and stares wide-eyed, with heavenly +eyes, while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come from, +and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. At +two years old she does not understand angels, and does understand bread +and milk; at five she has vague notions about them, and prefers bread +and milk; at ten both bread and milk and angels have been left behind +in the nursery, and she has already found out that they are luxuries +not necessary to her everyday life. In later years she may be +disinclined to accept truths second-hand, insist on thinking for +herself, be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded traditions, be +untiring in her efforts to live according to a high moral standard and +to be strong, and pure, and good—” + +“Like tea,” explained Irais. + +“—yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth part +of the charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, +her first reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother’s knees. I love to +come in at bed-time and sit in the window in the setting sunshine +watching the mysteries of her going to bed. Her mother tubs her, for +she is far too precious to be touched by any nurse, and then she is +rolled up in a big bath towel, and only her little pink toes peep out; +and when she is powdered, and combed, and tied up in her night-dress, +and all her curls are on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt down +on her mother’s lap, a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face +reflects the quiet of her mother’s face as she goes through her evening +prayer for pity and for peace.” + +“How very curious!” said Minora, when she had finished. “That is +exactly what I was going to say.” + +“Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; you can +copy that if you like.” + +“But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?” I asked. + +“Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch,” she replied; +“it will make people really think a man wrote the book. You know I am +going to take a man’s name.” + +“That is precisely what I imagined,” said Irais. “You will call +yourself John Jones, or George Potts, or some such sternly commonplace +name, to emphasise your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine +weaknesses, and no one will be taken in.” + +“I really think, Elizabeth,” said Irais to me later, when the click of +Minora’s typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room, “that you +and I are writing her book for her. She takes down everything we say. +Why does she copy all that about the baby? I wonder why mothers’ knees +are supposed to be touching? I never learned anything at them, did you? +But then in my case they were only stepmother’s, and nobody ever sings +their praises.” + +“My mother was always at parties,” I said; “and the nurse made me say +my prayers in French.” + +“And as for tubs and powder,” went on Irais, “when I was a baby such +things were not the fashion. There were never any bathrooms, and no +tubs; our faces and hands were washed, and there was a foot-bath in the +room, and in the summer we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards +for fear we might catch cold. My stepmother didn’t worry much; she used +to wear pink dresses all over lace, and the older she got the prettier +the dresses got. When is she going?” + +“Who? Minora? I haven’t asked her that.” + +“Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. +She has been here an unconscionable time,—it must be nearly three +weeks.” + +“Yes, she came the same day you did,” I said pleasantly. + +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to +neglect one’s art than one’s husband, and her husband is lying all this +time stretched on a bed of sickness, while she is spending her days so +agreeably with me. She has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or +any other business in the world than just to stay on chatting with me, +and reading, and singing, and laughing at any one there is to laugh at, +and kissing the babies, and tilting with the Man of Wrath. Naturally I +love her—she is so pretty that anybody with eyes in his head must love +her—but too much of anything is bad, and next month the passages and +offices are to be whitewashed, and people who have ever whitewashed +their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while it +is being done; and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those +succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. I +shall begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring +every day anxiously after her husband’s health. She is not very fond of +him, because he does not run and hold the door open for her every time +she gets up to leave the room; and though she has asked him to do so, +and told him how much she wishes he would, he still won’t. She stayed +once in a house where there was an Englishman, and his nimbleness in +regard to doors and chairs so impressed her that her husband has had no +peace since, and each time she has to go out of a room she is reminded +of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut door is to her symbolic of +the failure of her married life, and the very sight of one makes her +wonder why she was born; at least, that is what she told me once, in a +burst of confidence. He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant +to talk to, good-tempered, and full of fun; but he thinks he is too old +to begin to learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has that horror of +being made better by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men, +and is shared by the Man of Wrath, who persists in holding his glass in +his left hand at meals, because if he did not (and I don’t believe he +particularly likes doing it) his relations might say that marriage has +improved him, and thus drive the iron into his soul. This habit +occasions an almost daily argument between one or other of the babies +and myself. + +“April, hold your glass in your right hand.” + +“But papa doesn’t.” + +“When you are as old as papa you can do as you like.” + +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, +“And only think how strange it would look if _everybody_ held their +glasses so.” + +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. + + + + +_January_ 28_th_.—It is very cold,—fifteen degrees of frost _Réaumur_, +but perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels jolly and +energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. The two young ladies +are still here, but the air is so buoyant that even they don’t weigh on +me any longer, and besides, they have both announced their approaching +departure, so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace, +and the house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the +spring. + +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a parting +gift to the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, and sat +meekly times innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, that I am not +vain. When Irais first saw it she laughed till she cried, and at once +commissioned her to paint hers, so that she may take it away with her +and give it to her husband on his birthday, which happens to be early +in February. Indeed, if it were not for this birthday, I really think +she would have forgotten to go at all; but birthdays are great and +solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by unnoticed, and +always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of relations +(gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, and +that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), who +stand round a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years are +offered up as a burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink +and white candles, stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. The cake +with its candles is the chief feature, and on the table round it lie +the gifts each person present is more or less bound to give. As my +birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as blotting-books +and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer I should get +photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; but whatever the +present may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be welcomed with the +noisiest gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, and such words as +_entzückend, reizend, herrlich, wundervoll_, and _süss_ repeated over +and over again, until the unfortunate _Geburtstagskind_ feels indeed +that another year has gone, and that she has grown older, and wiser, +and more tired of folly and of vain repetitions. A flag is hoisted, and +all the morning the rites are celebrated, the cake eaten, healths +drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly shaken off. The neighbouring +parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their wives count the +candles in the cake; the active lady in the next _Schloss_ spares time +to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the _Gotha +Almanach;_ a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief +inspector in white kid gloves who invokes Heaven’s blessings on the +gracious lady’s head; and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner +trying on all the mittens. In the evening there is a dinner for the +relations and the chief local authorities, with more health-drinking +and speechifying, and the next morning, when I come downstairs thankful +to have done with it, I am confronted by the altar still in its place, +cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, because any hasty removal of it +would imply a most lamentable want of sentiment, deplorable in anybody, +but scandalous and disgusting in a tender female. All birthdays are +observed in this fashion, and not a few wise persons go for a short +trip just about the time theirs is due, and I think I shall imitate +them next year; only trips to the country or seaside in December are +not usually pleasant, and if I go to a town there are sure to be +relations in it, and then the cake will spring up mushroom-like from +the teeming soil of their affection. + +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais and +myself are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further proof +were needed, it is furnished by the fact that we both, in defiance of +tradition, scorn this celebration of birthday rites. Years ago, when +first I knew her, and long before we were either of us married, I sent +her a little brass candlestick on her birthday; and when mine followed +a few months later, she sent me a note-book. No notes were written in +it, and on her next birthday I presented it to her; she thanked me +profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came I received the +brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy the possession of +each of these articles, and the present question is comfortably settled +once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. We never mention +this little arrangement except at the proper time, when we send a +letter of fervid thanks. + +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, and sitting still over +the fire out of the question, has been going on for more than a week. +Sleighing and skating have been our chief occupation, especially +skating, which is more than usually fascinating here, because the place +is intersected by small canals communicating with a lake and the river +belonging to the lake, and as everything is frozen black and hard, we +can skate for miles straight ahead without being obliged to turn round +and come back again,—at all times an annoying, and even mortifying, +proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: modesty is the only obstacle to +my saying the same of myself; but I may remark that all Germans skate +well, for the simple reason that every year of their lives, for three +or four months, they may do it as much as they like. Minora was +astonished and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and +arriving at the place where tea meets us half an hour after we had +finished. In some places the banks of the canals are so high that only +our heads appear level with the fields, and it is, as Minora noted in +her book, a curious sight to see three female heads skimming along +apparently by themselves, and enjoying it tremendously. When the banks +are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously over the roughest ploughed +fields, with or without legs according to circumstances. Before we +start, I fix on the place where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and we +drive home again; because skating against the wind is as detestable as +skating with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its +blowing without the smallest regard for our convenience. Yesterday, by +way of a change, we went for a picnic to the shores of the Baltic, +ice-bound at this season, and utterly desolate at our nearest point. I +have a weakness for picnics, especially in winter, when the mosquitoes +cease from troubling and the ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many +favourite picnic spots this one on the Baltic is the loveliest and +best. As it is a three-hours’ drive, the Man of Wrath is loud in his +lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which means, as +experience has taught him, this particular excursion. There must be +deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; and when, on +waking up, I see these conditions fulfilled, then it would need some +very potent reason to keep me from having out a sleigh and going off. +It is, I admit, a hard day for the horses; but why have horses if they +are not to take you where you want to go to, and at the time you want +to go? And why should not horses have hard days as well as everybody +else? The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for nature and +frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive through a forest that +does not belong to him; a single turnip on his own place is more +admirable in his eyes than the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that +ever reared its snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. Now +observe the superiority of woman, who sees that both are good, and +after having gazed at the pine and been made happy by its beauty, goes +home and placidly eats the turnip. He went once and only once to this +particular place, and made us feel so small by his _blasé_ behaviour +that I never invite him now. It is a beautiful spot, endless forest +stretching along the shore as far as the eye can reach; and after +driving through it for miles you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue +of arching trees, upon the glistening, oily sea, with the +orange-coloured sails of distant fishing-smacks shilling in the +sunlight. Whenever I have been there it has been windless weather, and +the silence so profound that I could hear my pulses beating. The +humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are the only sounds +in summer, and in winter the stillness is the stillness of death. + +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is so infested by +mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem most natural, that those +of my visitors who have been taken there for a treat have invariably +lost their tempers, and made the quiet shores ring with their wailing +and lamentations. These despicable but irritating insects don’t seem to +have anything to do but to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for +any prey Providence may send them; and as soon as the carriage appears +they rise up in a cloud, and rush to meet us, almost dragging us out +bodily, and never leave us until we drive away again. The sudden view +of the sea from the messy, pine-covered height directly above it where +we picnic; the wonderful stretch of lonely shore with the forest to the +water’s edge; the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness—all is lost upon the picnickers, and made +worse than indifferent to them, by the perpetual necessity they are +under of fighting these horrid creatures. It is nice being the only +person who ever goes there or shows it to anybody, but if more people +went, perhaps the mosquitoes would be less lean, and hungry, and +pleased to see us. It has, however, the advantage of being a suitable +place to which to take refractory visitors when they have stayed too +long, or left my books out in the garden all night, or otherwise made +their presence a burden too grievous to be borne; then one fine hot +morning when they are all looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on +the Baltic. I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted with +exclamations of surprise and delight. + +“The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? How +_heavenly_ to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! The very +_thought_ puts new life into one! And how _delightful_ to see the +Baltic! Oh, _please_ take us!” And then I take them. + +But on a brilliant winter’s day my conscience is as clear as the frosty +air itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of +spirits, even Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least +provocation. Only our eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and +woollen wrappings necessary to our heads if we would come back with our +ears and noses in the same places they were in when we started, and for +the first two miles the mirth created by each other’s strange +appearance was uproarious,—a fact I mention merely to show what an +effect dry, bright, intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how +much better it is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and +sulk. As we passed through the neighbouring village with cracking of +whip and jingling of bells, heads popped up at the windows to stare, +and the only living thing in the silent, sunny street was a melancholy +fowl with ruffled feathers, which looked at us reproachfully, as we +dashed with so much energy over the crackling snow. + +“Oh, foolish bird!” Irais called out as we passed; “you’ll be indeed a +cold fowl if you stand there motionless, and every one prefers them hot +in weather like this!” + +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid joke +had been made, and before we had done we were out of the village and in +the open country beyond, and could see my house and garden far away +behind, glittering in the sunshine; and in front of us lay the forest, +with its vistas of pines stretching away into infinity, and a drive +through it of fourteen miles before we reached the sea. It was a +hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted forest leading into +fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often before, and +always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the +place. For a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep +blue line, and a cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a +narrow strip of pale yellow sand; right and left the line of sparkling +forest; and we ourselves standing in a world of white and diamond +traceries. The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay on the place like a +benediction. + +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, but she +thought this beat it almost. + +“I don’t quite see,” said Irais in a hushed voice, as though she were +in a holy place, “how the two can be compared.” + +“Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course,” replied Minora; after +which we turned away and thought we would keep her quiet by feeding +her, so we went back to the sleigh and had the horses taken out and +their cloths put on, and they were walked up and down a distant glade +while we sat in the sleigh and picnicked. It _is_ a hard day for the +horses,—nearly thirty miles there and back and no stable in the middle; +but they are so fat and spoiled that it cannot do them much harm +sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. I warmed soup in a little +apparatus I have for such occasions, which helped to take the +chilliness off the sandwiches,—this is the only unpleasant part of a +winter picnic, the clammy quality of the provisions just when you most +long for something very hot. Minora let her nose very carefully out of +its wrappings, took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She +was nervous lest it should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add +that her nose is not a bad nose, and might even be pretty on anybody +else; but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in the +angle at which one’s nose is held just as in everything else, and +really noses were intended for something besides mere blowing. + +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches with +immense fur and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost as much +fur as anything, and choked exceedingly during the process. Minora was +angry at this, and at last pulled off her glove, but quickly put it on +again. + +“How very unpleasant,” she remarked after swallowing a large piece of +fur. + +“It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm,” said Irais. + +“Pipes!” echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. + +“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” I said, as she continued to choke and +splutter; “we are all in the same case, and I don’t know how to alter +it.” + +“There are such things as forks, I suppose,” snapped Minora. + +“That’s true,” said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; but of +what use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? So Minora had to +continue to eat her gloves. + +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind the trees +and the clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. The old coachman was +given sandwiches and soup, and while he led the horses up and down with +one hand and held his lunch in the other, we packed up—or, to be +correct, I packed, and the others looked on and gave me valuable +advice. + +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was born on the +place, and has driven its occupants for fifty years, and I am nearly as +fond of him as I am of the sun-dial; indeed, I don’t know what I should +do without him, so entirely does he appear to understand and approve of +my tastes and wishes. No drive is too long or difficult for the horses +if I want to take it, no place impossible to reach if I want to go to +it, no weather or roads too bad to prevent my going out if I wish to: +to all my suggestions he responds with the readiest cheerfulness, and +smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of Wrath, who rewards +his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking of him as an _alter +Esel_. In the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and alone +in the scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and +sit quite still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little +tune over and over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there are +no nightingales, listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its +blessedness descend into my very soul. The nightingales in the forests +about here all sing the same tune, and in the same key of (E flat). + + +I don’t know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar to +this particular spot. When they have sung it once, they clear their +throats a little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the +prettiest little song in the world. How could I indulge my passion for +these drives with their pauses without Peter? He is so used to them +that he stops now at the right moment without having to be told, and he +is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, with no sign of anything +but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. The Man of Wrath +deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, of mine; but has +given up trying to prevent my indulging them because, while he is +deploring in one part of the house, I have slipped out at a door in the +other, and am gone before he can catch me, and have reached and am lost +in the shadows of the forest by the time he has discovered that I am +nowhere to be found. + +The brightness of Peter’s perfections are sullied however by one spot, +and that is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold the +horses in if they don’t want to be held in, but he goes to sleep +sometimes on his box if I have him out too soon after lunch, and has +upset me twice within the last year—once last winter out of a sleigh, +and once this summer, when the horses shied at a bicycle, and bolted +into the ditch on one side of the _chaussée_ (German for high road), +and the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it shied too +into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and the +bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who +never lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue +clave to the roof of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him. + +“But I should think he ought to have been _thoroughly_ scolded on an +occasion like that,” said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story +as we wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in +the sleigh; and she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was +visible between the bushes above us. “Shall we get home before dark?” +she asked. + +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very +highest of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were +creeping up, and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull +brown; a flight of wild geese passed across the disc of the moon with +loud cacklings. + +“Before dark?” echoed Irais, “I should think not. It is dark now nearly +in the forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back.” + +“But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive +you,” said Minora apprehensively. + +“But he’s such an old dear,” I said. + +“Yes, yes, no doubt,” she replied tastily; “but there are wakeful old +dears to be had, and on a box they are preferable.” + +Irais laughed. “You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora,” she said. + +“He isn’t on a box to-day,” said I; “and I never knew him to go to +sleep standing up behind us on a sleigh.” But Minora was not to be +appeased, and muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, +which shows how alarmed she was, for it was rude. + +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, and Irais and I at +least were as happy as possible driving back, with all the glories of +the western sky flashing at us every now and then at the end of a long +avenue as we swiftly passed, and later on, when they had faded, myriads +of stars in the narrow black strip of sky over our heads. It was +bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and not in the least inclined to +laugh with us as she had been six hours before. + +“Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?’ inquired Irais, as we got out +of the forest on to the _chaussée_, and the lights of the village +before ours twinkled in the distance. + +“How many degrees do you suppose there are now?” was Minora’s reply to +this question. + +“Degrees?—Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold,” cried Irais +solicitously. + +“Well, it isn’t exactly warm, is it?” said Minora sulkily; and Irais +pinched me. “Well, but think how much colder you would have been +without all that fur you ate for lunch inside you,” she said. + +“And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic,” +said I. “Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English +person who has ever been to just this part of it.” + +“Isn’t there some English poem,” said Irais, “about being the first who +ever burst—” + +“‘Into that silent sea,’” finished Minora hastily. “You can’t quote +that without its context, you know.” + +“But I wasn’t going to,” said Irais meekly; “I only paused to breathe. +I must breathe, or perhaps I might die.” + +The lights from my energetic friend’s _Schloss_ shone brightly down +upon us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; she +is very proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it is the +only one in the whole district. + +“Do you never go there?” asked Minora, jerking her head in the +direction of the house. + +“Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel I was in the +way if I went often.” + +“It would be interesting to see another North German interior,” said +Minora; “and I should be obliged if you would take me.” + +“But I can’t fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl,” I protested; +“and we are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking +all my visitors to see her.” + +“What do you want to see another interior for?” asked Irais. “I can +tell you what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak to you, +and if you were to ask questions, and began to take notes, the good +lady would stare at you in the frankest amazement, and think Elizabeth +had brought a young lunatic out for an airing. _Everybody_ is not as +patient as Elizabeth,” added Irais, anxious to pay off old scores. + +“I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora,” I said, “but I can’t do +that.” + +“If we went,” said Irais, “Elizabeth and I would be placed with great +ceremony on a sofa behind a large, polished oval table with a +crochet-mat in the centre—it _has_ got a crochet-mat in the centre, +hasn’t it?” I nodded. “And you would sit on one of the four little +podgy, buttony, tasselly red chairs that are ranged on the other side +of the table facing the sofa. They _are_ red, Elizabeth?” Again I +nodded. “The floor is painted yellow, and there is no carpet except a +rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark chocolate colour, almost +black; that is in order that after years of use the dirt may not show, +and the room need not be done up. Dirt is like wickedness, you see, +Miss Minora—its being there never matters; it is only when it shows so +much as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. At +intervals round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with lamps on +them, and in one corner is a great white cold stove—or is it majolica?” +she asked, turning to me. + +“No, it is white.” + +“There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let in the air +and the sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown lace curtains +under heavy stuff ones as though a whole row of houses were just +opposite, with peering eyes at every window trying to look in, instead +of there only being fields, and trees, and birds. No fire, no sunlight, +no books, no flowers; but a consoling smell of red cabbage coming up +under the door, mixed, in due season, with soapsuds.” + +“When did you go there?” asked Minora. + +“Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been +calling there all my life.” + +Minora’s eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the +depths of her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark +eyelashes, and far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself +is fine, but they are put in all wrong. + +“The only thing you would learn there,” went on Irais, “would be the +significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went there +together, I should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, +because it is the place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; +Elizabeth would be invited to seat herself in the left-hand corner, as +next in importance; the hostess would sit near us in an arm-chair; and +you, as a person of no importance whatever, would either be left to sit +where you could, or would be put on a chair facing us, and with the +entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense social gulf +that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. These sofa +corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible in a way that +nothing else could. The world might come to an end, and create less +sensation in doing it, than you would, Miss Minora, if by any chance +you got into the right-hand corner of one. That you are put on a chair +on the other side of the table places you at once in the scale of +precedence, and exactly defines your social position, or rather your +complete want of a social position.” And Irais tilted her nose ever so +little heavenwards. + +“Note it,” she added, “as the heading of your next chapter.” + +“Note what?” asked Minora impatiently. + +“Why, ‘The Subtle Significance of Sofas’, of course,” replied Irais. +“If,” she continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this +suggestion, “you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues +the innocent would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the +distracted mistress of the house would keep you waiting in the cold +room so long while she changed her dress, that you would begin to fear +you were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and when she did +appear, would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the rage +that was boiling in her heart.” + +“But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing?” + +“What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent—pardon my +familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs is very +touching in one who is writing a book about them.” + +“Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant,” said Minora loftily. + +“Seasons of washing,” explained Irais, “are seasons set apart by the +_Hausfrau_ to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, +and while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every +other consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into +insignificance, and no one approaching, or interfering with the +mistress of the house during these days of purification, but at their +peril.” + +“You don’t really mean,” said Minora, “that you only wash your clothes +four times a year?” + +“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Irais. + +“Well, I think that is very disgusting,” said Minora emphatically. + +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. “Then you must +take care and not marry a German,” she said. + +“But what is the object of it?” went on Minora. + +“Why, to clean the linen, I suppose.” + +“Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?” + +“It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape of +linen. If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, as +you do in England, you would be put down as a person who only has just +enough to last that length of time, and would be an object of general +contempt.” + +“But I should be a clean object,” cried Minora, “and my house would not +be full of accumulated dirt.” + +We said nothing—there was nothing to be said. + +“It must be a happy land, that England of yours,” Irais remarked after +a while with a sigh—a beatific vision no doubt presenting itself to her +mind of a land full of washerwomen and agile gentlemen darting at +door-handles. + +“It is a _clean_ land, at any rate,” replied Minora. + +“_I_ don’t want to go and live in it,” I said—for we were driving up to +the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came into my mind as I +looked up fondly at its dear old west front, and I felt that what I +want is to live and die just here, and that there never was such a +happy woman as Elizabeth. + + + + +_April_ 18_th_.—I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying +on its green and flowered petticoat—only its petticoat as yet, for +though the underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, the trees +above are still quite bare. + +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, so deeply was I +engaged in making hot-beds, and having them sown with petunias, +verbenas, and nicotina affinis; while no less than thirty are dedicated +solely to vegetables, it having been borne in upon me lately that +vegetables must be interesting things to grow, besides possessing solid +virtues not given to flowers, and that I might as well take the orchard +and kitchen garden under my wing. So I have rushed in with all the zeal +of utter inexperience, and my February evenings were spent poring over +gardening books, and my days in applying the freshly absorbed wisdom. +Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the country? It +was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, and its mild days +enabled me to get on beautifully with the digging and manuring, and +filled my rooms with snowdrops. The longer I live the greater is my +respect and affection for manure in all its forms, and already, though +the year is so young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been +spent on artificial manure. The Man of Wrath says he never met a young +woman who spent her money that way before; I remarked that it must be +nice to have an original wife; and he retorted that the word original +hardly described me, and that the word eccentric was the one required. +Very well, I suppose I am eccentric, since even my husband says so; but +if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature as to result later +in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest lettuce in Prussia, why then +he ought to be the first to rise up and call me blessed. + +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they are not grown +here, and people try and make boiled cucumbers take their place; but +boiled cucumbers are nasty things, and I don’t see why marrows should +not do here perfectly well. These, and primrose-roots, are the English +contributions to my garden. I brought over the roots in a tin box last +time I came from England, and am anxious to see whether they will +consent to live here. Certain it is that they don’t exist in the +Fatherland, so I can only conclude the winter kills them, for surely, +if such lovely things would grow, they never would have been +overlooked. Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so +many English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they +have got so mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and +Disraelis, that she longs to see this mysterious political flower, and +has made me promise to telegraph when it appears, and she will come +over. Bur they are not going to do anything this year, and I only hope +those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of flowers. I am +afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. + +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and the +babies, and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the +numerous relations staying with her have left,—“which they won’t do,” +she wrote the other day, “until the first frosts nip them off, when +they will disappear like belated dahlias—double ones of course, for +single dahlias are too charming to be compared to relations. I have +every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and here they have been +ever since my husband’s birthday—not the same ones exactly, but I get +so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. My +husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I +am left at their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at—I should +be grateful even for one, and would look at it from morning till night, +and quite stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay at home and +have the truth told me by enigmatic aunts. Do you know my Aunt Bertha? +she, in particular, spends her time propounding obscure questions for +my solution. I get so tired and worried trying to guess the answers, +which are always truths supposed to be good for me to hear. ‘Why do you +wear your hair on your forehead?’ she asks,—and that sets me off +wondering why I _do_ wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to know +for, or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer +truthfully. ‘I am sure I don’t know, aunt,’ I say meekly, after +puzzling over it for ever so long; ‘perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring +and ask her?’ And then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly +line she says I have down the middle of my forehead, and that betokens +a listless and discontented disposition. Well, if she knew, what did +she ask me for? Whenever I am with them they ask me riddles like that, +and I simply lead a _dog’s_ life. Oh, my dear, relations are like +drugs,—useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if taken in small +quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, and the +truly wise avoid them.” + +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, in +which she thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending +me a bottle of English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; +that it was wonderful stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that +it cost two marks, and would I send stamps. I pondered long over this. +Was it a parting hit, intended as revenge for our having laughed at +her? Was she personally interested in the sale of embrocation? Or was +it merely Minora’s idea of a graceful return for my hospitality? As for +bruises, nobody who skates decently regards it as a bruise-producing +exercise, and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; but she +did happen to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of +tumbling down for the first and only time, and her delight was but +thinly veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the +stamps, received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my +life; I had been a good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, +but the best of Samaritans resents the offer of healing oil for his own +use. But why waste a thought on Minora at Easter, the real beginning of +the year in defiance of calendars. She belongs to the winter that is +past, to the darkness that is over, and has no part or lot in the life +I shall lead for the next six months. Oh, I could dance and sing for +joy that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there is in +my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant +Easter day I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the +windflowers and celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to +the Hirschwald, to see what the spring had been doing there; and the +afternoon was so hot that we lay a long time on the turf, blinking up +through the leafless branches of the silver birches at the soft, fat +little white clouds floating motionless in the blue. We had tea on the +grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, and the babies were +in bed, and all the little wind-flowers folded up for the night, I +still wandered in the green paths, my heart full of happiest gratitude. +It makes one very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of +beauty and perfection _anonymously_ lavished, and to think of the +infinite meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we +are if they are not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely +trust that the benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may +by degrees be more deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and +patience, and cheerfulness, just like the happy flowers I so much love. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN +GARDEN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Elizabeth and her German Garden</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Elizabeth Von Arnim, [AKA Marie Annette Beauchamp]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May, 1998 [eBook #1327]<br> +[Most recently updated: August 7, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: R. McGowan</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]"> +</div> + +<h1>ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Elizabeth Von Arnim</h2> + +<hr> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION TO THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EDITION</h2> + +<p> +Originally published in 1898, “Elizabeth and her German Garden” is the first +book by Marie Annette Beauchamp—known all her life as “Elizabeth”. The book, +anonymously published, was an incredible success, going through printing after +printing by several publishers over the next few years. (I myself own three +separate early editions of this book by different publishers on both sides of +the Atlantic.) The present Gutenberg edition was scanned from the illustrated +deluxe MacMillan (London) edition of 1900. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth was a cousin of the better-known writer Katherine Mansfield (whose +real name was Kathleen Mansfield Beauchamp). Born in Australia, Elizabeth was +educated in England. She was reputed to be a fine organist and musician. At a +young age, she captured the heart of a German Count, was persuaded to marry +him, and went to live in Germany. Over the next years she bore five daughters. +After her husband’s death and the decline of the estate, she returned to +England. She was a friend to many of high social standing, including people +such as H. G. Wells (who considered her one of the finest wits of the day). +Some time later she married the brother of Bertrand Russell; which marriage was +a failure and ended in divorce. Eventually Elizabeth fled to America at the +outbreak of the Second World War, and there died in 1941. +</p> + +<p> +Elizabeth is best known to modern readers by the name “Elizabeth von Arnim”, +author of “The Enchanted April” which was recently made into a successful film +by the same title. Another of her books, “Mr. Skeffington” was also once made +into a film starring Bette Davis, circa 1940. +</p> + +<p> +Some of Elizabeth’s work is published in modern editions by Virago and other +publishers. Among these are: “Love”, “The Enchanted April”, “Caravaners”, +“Christopher and Columbus”, “The Pastor’s Wife”, “Mr. Skeffington”, “The +Solitary Summer”, and “Elizabeth’s Adventures in Rugen”. Also published by +Virago is her non-autobiography “All the Dogs of My Life”—as the title +suggests, it is the story not of her life, but of the lives of the many dogs +she owned; though of course it does touch upon her own experiences. +</p> + +<p> +In the centennial year of this book’s first publication, I hope that its +availability through Project Gutenberg will stir some renewed interest in +Elizabeth and her delightful work. She is, I would venture, my favorite author; +and I hope that soon she will be one of your favorites. +</p> + +<p> +R. McGowan San Jose, April 11 1998. +</p> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 7<i>th</i>.—I love my garden. I am writing in it now in the late +afternoon loveliness, much interrupted by the mosquitoes and the temptation to +look at all the glories of the new green leaves washed half an hour ago in a +cold shower. Two owls are perched near me, and are carrying on a long +conversation that I enjoy as much as any warbling of nightingales. The +gentleman owl says <span class="figfloat"><img src="images/img01.jpg" +width="100" height="43" alt=""></span>, and she answers from her tree a +little way off, <span class="figfloat"><img src="images/img02.jpg" width="100" +height="48" alt=""></span>, beautifully assenting to and completing her +lord’s remark, as becomes a properly constructed German she-owl. They say the +same thing over and over again so emphatically that I think it must be +something nasty about me; but I shall not let myself be frightened away by the +sarcasm of owls. +</p> + +<p> +This is less a garden than a wilderness. No one has lived in the house, much +less in the garden, for twenty-five years, and it is such a pretty old place +that the people who might have lived here and did not, deliberately preferring +the horrors of a flat in a town, must have belonged to that vast number of +eyeless and earless persons of whom the world seems chiefly composed. Noseless +too, though it does not sound pretty; but the greater part of my spring +happiness is due to the scent of the wet earth and young leaves. +</p> + +<p> +I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are +servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring happiness +bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more +intense, and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out in my +frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. But I did it behind a +bush, having a due regard for the decencies. +</p> + +<p> +There are so many bird-cherries round me, great trees with branches sweeping +the grass, and they are so wreathed just now with white blossoms and tenderest +green that the garden looks like a wedding. I never saw such masses of them; +they seemed to fill the place. Even across a little stream that bounds the +garden on the east, and right in the middle of the cornfield beyond, there is +an immense one, a picture of grace and glory against the cold blue of the +spring sky. +</p> + +<p> +My garden is surrounded by cornfields and meadows, and beyond are great +stretches of sandy heath and pine forests, and where the forests leave off the +bare heath begins again; but the forests are beautiful in their lofty, +pink-stemmed vastness, far overhead the crowns of softest gray-green, and +underfoot a bright green wortleberry carpet, and everywhere the breathless +silence; and the bare heaths are beautiful too, for one can see across them +into eternity almost, and to go out on to them with one’s face towards the +setting sun is like going into the very presence of God. +</p> + +<p> +In the middle of this plain is the oasis of bird-cherries and greenery where I +spend my happy days, and in the middle of the oasis is the gray stone house +with many gables where I pass my reluctant nights. The house is very old, and +has been added to at various times. It was a convent before the Thirty Years’ +War, and the vaulted chapel, with its brick floor worn by pious peasant knees, +is now used as a hall. Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes passed through more +than once, as is duly recorded in archives still preserved, for we are on what +was then the high-road between Sweden and Brandenburg the unfortunate. The Lion +of the North was no doubt an estimable person and acted wholly up to his +convictions, but he must have sadly upset the peaceful nuns, who were not +without convictions of their own, sending them out on to the wide, empty plain +to piteously seek some life to replace the life of silence here. +</p> + +<p> +From nearly all the windows of the house I can look out across the plain, with +no obstacle in the shape of a hill, right away to a blue line of distant +forest, and on the west side uninterruptedly to the setting sun—nothing but a +green, rolling plain, with a sharp edge against the sunset. I love those west +windows better than any others, and have chosen my bedroom on that side of the +house so that even times of hair-brushing may not be entirely lost, and the +young woman who attends to such matters has been taught to fulfil her duties +about a mistress recumbent in an easy-chair before an open window, and not to +profane with chatter that sweet and solemn time. This girl is grieved at my +habit of living almost in the garden, and all her ideas as to the sort of life +a respectable German lady should lead have got into a sad muddle since she came +to me. The people round about are persuaded that I am, to put it as kindly as +possible, exceedingly eccentric, for the news has travelled that I spend the +day out of doors with a book, and that no mortal eye has ever yet seen me sew +or cook. But why cook when you can get some one to cook for you? And as for +sewing, the maids will hem the sheets better and quicker than I could, and all +forms of needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for +keeping the foolish from applying their heart to wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +We had been married five years before it struck us that we might as well make +use of this place by coming down and living in it. Those five years were spent +in a flat in a town, and during their whole interminable length I was perfectly +miserable and perfectly healthy, which disposes of the ugly notion that has at +times disturbed me that my happiness here is less due to the garden than to a +good digestion. And while we were wasting our lives there, here was this dear +place with dandelions up to the very door, all the paths grass-grown and +completely effaced, in winter so lonely, with nobody but the north wind taking +the least notice of it, and in May—in all those five lovely Mays—no one to look +at the wonderful bird-cherries and still more wonderful masses of lilacs, +everything glowing and blowing, the virginia creeper madder every year, until +at last, in October, the very roof was wreathed with blood-red tresses, the +owls and the squirrels and all the blessed little birds reigning supreme, and +not a living creature ever entering the empty house except the snakes, which +got into the habit during those silent years of wriggling up the south wall +into the rooms on that side whenever the old housekeeper opened the windows. +All that was here,—peace, and happiness, and a reasonable life,—and yet it +never struck me to come and live in it. Looking back I am astonished, and can +in no way account for the tardiness of my discovery that here, in this far-away +corner, was my kingdom of heaven. Indeed, so little did it enter my head to +even use the place in summer, that I submitted to weeks of seaside life with +all its horrors every year; until at last, in the early spring of last year, +having come down for the opening of the village school, and wandering out +afterwards into the bare and desolate garden, I don’t know what smell of wet +earth or rotting leaves brought back my childhood with a rush and all the happy +days I had spent in a garden. Shall I ever forget that day? It was the +beginning of my real life, my coming of age as it were, and entering into my +kingdom. Early March, gray, quiet skies, and brown, quiet earth; leafless and +sad and lonely enough out there in the damp and silence, yet there I stood +feeling the same rapture of pure delight in the first breath of spring that I +used to as a child, and the five wasted years fell from me like a cloak, and +the world was full of hope, and I vowed myself then and there to nature, and +have been happy ever since. +</p> + +<p> +My other half being indulgent, and with some faint thought perhaps that it +might be as well to look after the place, consented to live in it at any rate +for a time; whereupon followed six specially blissful weeks from the end of +April into June, during which I was here alone, supposed to be superintending +the painting and papering, but as a matter of fact only going into the house +when the workmen had gone out of it. +</p> + +<p> +How happy I was! I don’t remember any time quite so perfect since the days when +I was too little to do lessons and was turned out with sugar on my eleven +o’clock bread and butter on to a lawn closely strewn with dandelions and +daisies. The sugar on the bread and butter has lost its charm, but I love the +dandelions and daisies even more passionately now than then, and never would +endure to see them all mown away if I were not certain that in a day or two +they would be pushing up their little faces again as jauntily as ever. During +those six weeks I lived in a world of dandelions and delights. The dandelions +carpeted the three lawns,—they used to be lawns, but have long since blossomed +out into meadows filled with every sort of pretty weed,—and under and among the +groups of leafless oaks and beeches were blue hepaticas, white anemones, +violets, and celandines in sheets. The celandines in particular delighted me +with their clean, happy brightness, so beautifully trim and newly varnished, as +though they too had had the painters at work on them. Then, when the anemones +went, came a few stray periwinkles and Solomon’s Seal, and all the +bird-cherries blossomed in a burst. And then, before I had a little got used to +the joy of their flowers against the sky, came the lilacs—masses and masses of +them, in clumps on the grass, with other shrubs and trees by the side of walks, +and one great continuous bank of them half a mile long right past the west +front of the house, away down as far as one could see, shining glorious against +a background of firs. When that time came, and when, before it was over, the +acacias all blossomed too, and four great clumps of pale, silvery-pink peonies +flowered under the south windows, I felt so absolutely happy, and blest, and +thankful, and grateful, that I really cannot describe it. My days seemed to +melt away in a dream of pink and purple peace. +</p> + +<p> +There were only the old housekeeper and her handmaiden in the house, so that on +the plea of not giving too much trouble I could indulge what my other half +calls my <i>fantaisie déréglée</i> as regards meals—that is to say, meals so +simple that they could be brought out to the lilacs on a tray; and I lived, I +remember, on salad and bread and tea the whole time, sometimes a very tiny +pigeon appearing at lunch to save me, as the old lady thought, from starvation. +Who but a woman could have stood salad for six weeks, even salad sanctified by +the presence and scent of the most gorgeous lilac masses? I did, and grew in +grace every day, though I have never liked it since. How often now, oppressed +by the necessity of assisting at three dining-room meals daily, two of which +are conducted by the functionaries held indispensable to a proper maintenance +of the family dignity, and all of which are pervaded by joints of meat, how +often do I think of my salad days, forty in number, and of the blessedness of +being alone as I was then alone! +</p> + +<p> +And then the evenings, when the workmen had all gone and the house was left to +emptiness and echoes, and the old housekeeper had gathered up her rheumatic +limbs into her bed, and my little room in quite another part of the house had +been set ready, how reluctantly I used to leave the friendly frogs and owls, +and with my heart somewhere down in my shoes lock the door to the garden behind +me, and pass through the long series of echoing south rooms full of shadows and +ladders and ghostly pails of painters’ mess, and humming a tune to make myself +believe I liked it, go rather slowly across the brick-floored hall, up the +creaking stairs, down the long whitewashed passage, and with a final rush of +panic whisk into my room and double lock and bolt the door! +</p> + +<p> +There were no bells in the house, and I used to take a great dinner-bell to bed +with me so that at least I might be able to make a noise if frightened in the +night, though what good it would have been I don’t know, as there was no one to +hear. The housemaid slept in another little cell opening out of mine, and we +two were the only living creatures in the great empty west wing. She evidently +did not believe in ghosts, for I could hear how she fell asleep immediately +after getting into bed; nor do I believe in them, “<i>mais je les redoute</i>,” +as a French lady said, who from her books appears to have been strongminded. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner-bell was a great solace; it was never rung, but it comforted me to +see it on the chair beside my bed, as my nights were anything but placid, it +was all so strange, and there were such queer creakings and other noises. I +used to lie awake for hours, startled out of a light sleep by the cracking of +some board, and listen to the indifferent snores of the girl in the next room. +In the morning, of course, I was as brave as a lion and much amused at the cold +perspirations of the night before; but even the nights seem to me now to have +been delightful, and myself like those historic boys who heard a voice in every +wind and snatched a fearful joy. I would gladly shiver through them all over +again for the sake of the beautiful purity of the house, empty of servants and +upholstery. +</p> + +<p> +How pretty the bedrooms looked with nothing in them but their cheerful new +papers! Sometimes I would go into those that were finished and build all sorts +of castles in the air about their future and their past. Would the nuns who had +lived in them know their little white-washed cells again, all gay with delicate +flower papers and clean white paint? And how astonished they would be to see +cell No. 14 turned into a bathroom, with a bath big enough to insure a +cleanliness of body equal to their purity of soul! They would look upon it as a +snare of the tempter; and I know that in my own case I only began to be shocked +at the blackness of my nails the day that I began to lose the first whiteness +of my soul by falling in love at fifteen with the parish organist, or rather +with the glimpse of surplice and Roman nose and fiery moustache which was all I +ever saw of him, and which I loved to distraction for at least six months; at +the end of which time, going out with my governess one day, I passed him in the +street, and discovered that his unofficial garb was a frock-coat combined with +a turn-down collar and a “bowler” hat, and never loved him any more. +</p> + +<p> +The first part of that time of blessedness was the most perfect, for I had not +a thought of anything but the peace and beauty all round me. Then he appeared +suddenly who has a right to appear when and how he will and rebuked me for +never having written, and when I told him that I had been literally too happy +to think of writing, he seemed to take it as a reflection on himself that I +could be happy alone. I took him round the garden along the new paths I had had +made, and showed him the acacia and lilac glories, and he said that it was the +purest selfishness to enjoy myself when neither he nor the offspring were with +me, and that the lilacs wanted thoroughly pruning. I tried to appease him by +offering him the whole of my salad and toast supper which stood ready at the +foot of the little verandah steps when we came back, but nothing appeased that +Man of Wrath, and he said he would go straight back to the neglected family. So +he went; and the remainder of the precious time was disturbed by twinges of +conscience (to which I am much subject) whenever I found myself wanting to jump +for joy. I went to look at the painters every time my feet were for taking me +to look at the garden; I trotted diligently up and down the passages; I +criticised and suggested and commanded more in one day than I had done in all +the rest of the time; I wrote regularly and sent my love; but I could not +manage to fret and yearn. What are you to do if your conscience is clear and +your liver in order and the sun is shining? +</p> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 10<i>th</i>.—I knew nothing whatever last year about gardening and +this year know very little more, but I have dawnings of what may be done, and +have at least made one great stride—from ipomæa to tea-roses. +</p> + +<p> +The garden was an absolute wilderness. It is all round the house, but the +principal part is on the south side and has evidently always been so. The south +front is one-storied, a long series of rooms opening one into the other, and +the walls are covered with virginia creeper. There is a little verandah in the +middle, leading by a flight of rickety wooden steps down into what seems to +have been the only spot in the whole place that was ever cared for. This is a +semicircle cut into the lawn and edged with privet, and in this semicircle are +eleven beds of different sizes bordered with box and arranged round a sun-dial, +and the sun-dial is very venerable and moss-grown, and greatly beloved by me. +These beds were the only sign of any attempt at gardening to be seen (except a +solitary crocus that came up all by itself each spring in the grass, not +because it wanted to, but because it could not help it), and these I had sown +with ipomæa, the whole eleven, having found a German gardening book, according +to which ipomæa in vast quantities was the one thing needful to turn the most +hideous desert into a paradise. Nothing else in that book was recommended with +anything like the same warmth, and being entirely ignorant of the quantity of +seed necessary, I bought ten pounds of it and had it sown not only in the +eleven beds but round nearly every tree, and then waited in great agitation for +the promised paradise to appear. It did not, and I learned my first lesson. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily I had sown two great patches of sweet-peas which made me very happy all +the summer, and then there were some sunflowers and a few hollyhocks under the +south windows, with Madonna lilies in between. But the lilies, after being +transplanted, disappeared to my great dismay, for how was I to know it was the +way of lilies? And the hollyhocks turned out to be rather ugly colours, so that +my first summer was decorated and beautified solely by sweet-peas. At present +we are only just beginning to breathe after the bustle of getting new beds and +borders and paths made in time for this summer. The eleven beds round the +sun-dial are filled with roses, but I see already that I have made mistakes +with some. As I have not a living soul with whom to hold communion on this or +indeed on any matter, my only way of learning is by making mistakes. All eleven +were to have been carpeted with purple pansies, but finding that I had not +enough and that nobody had any to sell me, only six have got their pansies, the +others being sown with dwarf mignonette. Two of the eleven are filled with +Marie van Houtte roses, two with Viscountess Folkestone, two with Laurette +Messimy, one with Souvenir de la Malmaison, one with Adam and Devoniensis, two +with Persian Yellow and Bicolor, and one big bed behind the sun-dial with three +sorts of red roses (seventy-two in all), Duke of Teck, Cheshunt Scarlet, and +Prefet de Limburg. This bed is, I am sure, a mistake, and several of the others +are, I think, but of course I must wait and see, being such an ignorant person. +Then I have had two long beds made in the grass on either side of the +semicircle, each sown with mignonette, and one filled with Marie van Houtte, +and the other with Jules Finger and the Bride; and in a warm corner under the +drawing-room windows is a bed of Madame Lambard, Madame de Watteville, and +Comtesse Riza du Parc; while farther down the garden, sheltered on the north +and west by a group of beeches and lilacs, is another large bed, containing +Rubens, Madame Joseph Schwartz, and the Hen. Edith Gifford. All these roses are +dwarf; I have only two standards in the whole garden, two Madame George +Bruants, and they look like broomsticks. How I long for the day when the +tea-roses open their buds! Never did I look forward so intensely to anything; +and every day I go the rounds, admiring what the dear little things have +achieved in the twenty-four hours in the way of new leaf or increase of lovely +red shoot. +</p> + +<p> +The hollyhocks and lilies (now flourishing) are still under the south windows +in a narrow border on the top of a grass slope, at the foot of which I have +sown two long borders of sweet-peas facing the rose beds, so that my roses may +have something almost as sweet as themselves to look at until the autumn, when +everything is to make place for more tea-roses. The path leading away from this +semicircle down the garden is bordered with China roses, white and pink, with +here and there a Persian Yellow. I wish now I had put tea-roses there, and I +have misgivings as to the effect of the Persian Yellows among the Chinas, for +the Chinas are such wee little baby things, and the Persian Yellows look as +though they intended to be big bushes. +</p> + +<p> +There is not a creature in all this part of the world who could in the least +understand with what heart-beatings I am looking forward to the flowering of +these roses, and not a German gardening book that does not relegate all +tea-roses to hot-houses, imprisoning them for life, and depriving them for ever +of the breath of God. It was no doubt because I was so ignorant that I rushed +in where Teutonic angels fear to tread and made my tea-roses face a northern +winter; but they did face it under fir branches and leaves, and not one has +suffered, and they are looking to-day as happy and as determined to enjoy +themselves as any roses, I am sure, in Europe. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 14<i>th</i>.—To-day I am writing on the verandah with the three +babies, more persistent than mosquitoes, raging round me, and already several +of the thirty fingers have been in the ink-pot and the owners consoled when +duty pointed to rebukes. But who can rebuke such penitent and drooping +sunbonnets? I can see nothing but sunbonnets and pinafores and nimble black +legs. +</p> + +<p> +These three, their patient nurse, myself, the gardener, and the gardener’s +assistant, are the only people who ever go into my garden, but then neither are +we ever out of it. The gardener has been here a year and has given me notice +regularly on the first of every month, but up to now has been induced to stay +on. On the first of this month he came as usual, and with determination written +on every feature told me he intended to go in June, and that nothing should +alter his decision. I don’t think he knows much about gardening, but he can at +least dig and water, and some of the things he sows come up, and some of the +plants he plants grow, besides which he is the most unflaggingly industrious +person I ever saw, and has the great merit of never appearing to take the +faintest interest in what we do in the garden. So I have tried to keep him on, +not knowing what the next one may be like, and when I asked him what he had to +complain of and he replied “Nothing,” I could only conclude that he has a +personal objection to me because of my eccentric preference for plants in +groups rather than plants in lines. Perhaps, too, he does not like the extracts +from gardening books I read to him sometimes when he is planting or sowing +something new. Being so helpless myself, I thought it simpler, instead of +explaining, to take the book itself out to him and let him have wisdom at its +very source, administering it in doses while he worked. I quite recognise that +this must be annoying, and only my anxiety not to lose a whole year through +some stupid mistake has given me the courage to do it. I laugh sometimes behind +the book at his disgusted face, and wish we could be photographed, so that I +may be reminded in twenty years’ time, when the garden is a bower of loveliness +and I learned in all its ways, of my first happy struggles and failures. +</p> + +<p> +All through April he was putting the perennials we had sown in the autumn into +their permanent places, and all through April he went about with a long piece +of string making parallel lines down the borders of beautiful exactitude and +arranging the poor plants like soldiers at a review. Two long borders were done +during my absence one day, and when I explained that I should like the third to +have plants in groups and not in lines, and that what I wanted was a natural +effect with no bare spaces of earth to be seen, he looked even more gloomily +hopeless than usual; and on my going out later on to see the result, I found he +had planted two long borders down the sides of a straight walk with little +lines of five plants in a row—first five pinks, and next to them five rockets, +and behind the rockets five pinks, and behind the pinks five rockets, and so on +with different plants of every sort and size down to the end. When I protested, +he said he had only carried out my orders and had known it would not look well; +so I gave in, and the remaining borders were done after the pattern of the +first two, and I will have patience and see how they look this summer, before +digging them up again; for it becomes beginners to be humble. +</p> + +<p> +If I could only dig and plant myself! How much easier, besides being so +fascinating, to make your own holes exactly where you want them and put in your +plants exactly as you choose instead of giving orders that can only be half +understood from the moment you depart from the lines laid down by that long +piece of string! In the first ecstasy of having a garden all my own, and in my +burning impatience to make the waste places blossom like a rose, I did one warm +Sunday in last year’s April during the servants’ dinner hour, doubly secure +from the gardener by the day and the dinner, slink out with a spade and a rake +and feverishly dig a little piece of ground and break it up and sow +surreptitious ipomæa, and run back very hot and guilty into the house, and get +into a chair and behind a book and look languid just in time to save my +reputation. And why not? It is not graceful, and it makes one hot; but it is a +blessed sort of work, and if Eve had had a spade in Paradise and known what to +do with it, we should not have had all that sad business of the apple. +</p> + +<p> +What a happy woman I am living in a garden, with books, babies, birds, and +flowers, and plenty of leisure to enjoy them! Yet my town acquaintances look +upon it as imprisonment, and burying, and I don’t know what besides, and would +rend the air with their shrieks if condemned to such a life. Sometimes I feel +as if I were blest above all my fellows in being able to find my happiness so +easily. I believe I should always be good if the sun always shone, and could +enjoy myself very well in Siberia on a fine day. And what can life in town +offer in the way of pleasure to equal the delight of any one of the calm +evenings I have had this month sitting alone at the foot of the verandah steps, +with the perfume of young larches all about, and the May moon hanging low over +the beeches, and the beautiful silence made only more profound in its peace by +the croaking of distant frogs and hooting of owls? A cockchafer darting by +close to my ear with a loud hum sends a shiver through me, partly of pleasure +at the reminder of past summers, and partly of fear lest he should get caught +in my hair. The Man of Wrath says they are pernicious creatures and should be +killed. I would rather get the killing done at the end of the summer and not +crush them out of such a pretty world at the very beginning of all the fun. +</p> + +<p> +This has been quite an eventful afternoon. My eldest baby, born in April, is +five years old, and the youngest, born in June, is three; so that the +discerning will at once be able to guess the age of the remaining middle or May +baby. While I was stooping over a group of hollyhocks planted on the top of the +only thing in the shape of a hill the garden possesses, the April baby, who had +been sitting pensive on a tree stump close by, got up suddenly and began to run +aimlessly about, shrieking and wringing her hands with every symptom of terror. +I stared, wondering what had come to her; and then I saw that a whole army of +young cows, pasturing in a field next to the garden, had got through the hedge +and were grazing perilously near my tea-roses and most precious belongings. The +nurse and I managed to chase them away, but not before they had trampled down a +border of pinks and lilies in the cruellest way, and made great holes in a bed +of China roses, and even begun to nibble at a Jackmanni clematis that I am +trying to persuade to climb up a tree trunk. The gloomy gardener happened to be +ill in bed, and the assistant was at vespers—as Lutheran Germany calls +afternoon tea or its equivalent—so the nurse filled up the holes as well as she +could with mould, burying the crushed and mangled roses, cheated for ever of +their hopes of summer glory, and I stood by looking on dejectedly. The June +baby, who is two feet square and valiant beyond her size and years, seized a +stick much bigger than herself and went after the cows, the cowherd being +nowhere to be seen. She planted herself in front of them brandishing her stick, +and they stood in a row and stared at her in great astonishment; and she kept +them off until one of the men from the farm arrived with a whip, and having +found the cowherd sleeping peacefully in the shade, gave him a sound beating. +The cowherd is a great hulking young man, much bigger than the man who beat +him, but he took his punishment as part of the day’s work and made no remark of +any sort. It could not have hurt him much through his leather breeches, and I +think he deserved it; but it must be demoralising work for a strong young man +with no brains looking after cows. Nobody with less imagination than a poet +ought to take it up as a profession. +</p> + +<p> +After the June baby and I had been welcomed back by the other two with as many +hugs as though we had been restored to them from great perils, and while we +were peacefully drinking tea under a beech tree, I happened to look up into its +mazy green, and there, on a branch quite close to my head, sat a little baby +owl. I got on the seat and caught it easily, for it could not fly, and how it +had reached the branch at all is a mystery. It is a little round ball of gray +fluff, with the quaintest, wisest, solemn face. Poor thing! I ought to have let +it go, but the temptation to keep it until the Man of Wrath, at present on a +journey, has seen it was not to be resisted, as he has often said how much he +would like to have a young owl and try and tame it. So I put it into a roomy +cage and slung it up on a branch near where it had been sitting, and which +cannot be far from its nest and its mother. We had hardly subsided again to our +tea when I saw two more balls of fluff on the ground in the long grass and +scarcely distinguishable at a little distance from small mole-hills. These were +promptly united to their relation in the cage, and now when the Man of Wrath +comes home, not only shall he be welcomed by a wife decked with the orthodox +smiles, but by the three little longed-for owls. Only it seems wicked to take +them from their mother, and I know that I shall let them go again some +day—perhaps the very next time the Man of Wrath goes on a journey. I put a +small pot of water in the cage, though they never could have tasted water yet +unless they drink the raindrops off the beech leaves. I suppose they get all +the liquid they need from the bodies of the mice and other dainties provided +for them by their fond parents. But the raindrop idea is prettier. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 15<i>th</i>.—How cruel it was of me to put those poor little owls +into a cage even for one night! I cannot forgive myself, and shall never pander +to the Man of Wrath’s wishes again. This morning I got up early to see how they +were getting on, and I found the door of the cage wide open and no owls to be +seen. I thought of course that somebody had stolen them—some boy from the +village, or perhaps the chastised cowherd. But looking about I saw one perched +high up in the branches of the beech tree, and then to my dismay one lying dead +on the ground. The third was nowhere to be seen, and is probably safe in its +nest. The parents must have torn at the bars of the cage until by chance they +got the door open, and then dragged the little ones out and up into the tree. +The one that is dead must have been blown off the branch, as it was a windy +night and its neck is broken. There is one happy life less in the garden to-day +through my fault, and it is such a lovely, warm day—just the sort of weather +for young soft things to enjoy and grow in. The babies are greatly distressed, +and are digging a grave, and preparing funeral wreaths of dandelions. +</p> + +<p> +Just as I had written that I heard sounds of arrival, and running out I +breathlessly told the Man of Wrath how nearly I had been able to give him the +owls he has so often said he would like to have, and how sorry I was they were +gone, and how grievous the death of one, and so on after the voluble manner of +women. +</p> + +<p> +He listened till I paused to breathe, and then he said, “I am surprised at such +cruelty. How could you make the mother owl suffer so? She had never done you +any harm.” +</p> + +<p> +Which sent me out of the house and into the garden more convinced than ever +that he sang true who sang— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Two paradises ’twere in one to live in Paradise alone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>May</i> 16<i>th</i>.—The garden is the place I go to for refuge and shelter, +not the house. In the house are duties and annoyances, servants to exhort and +admonish, furniture, and meals; but out there blessings crowd round me at every +step—it is there that I am sorry for the unkindness in me, for those selfish +thoughts that are so much worse than they feel; it is there that all my sins +and silliness are forgiven, there that I feel protected and at home, and every +flower and weed is a friend and every tree a lover. When I have been vexed I +run out to them for comfort, and when I have been angry without just cause, it +is there that I find absolution. Did ever a woman have so many friends? And +always the same, always ready to welcome me and fill me with cheerful thoughts. +Happy children of a common Father, why should I, their own sister, be less +content and joyous than they? Even in a thunder storm, when other people are +running into the house, I run out of it. I do not like thunder storms—they +frighten me for hours before they come, because I always feel them on the way; +but it is odd that I should go for shelter to the garden. I feel better there, +more taken care of, more petted. When it thunders, the April baby says, +“There’s <i>lieber Gott</i> scolding those angels again.” And once, when there +was a storm in the night, she complained loudly, and wanted to know why +<i>lieber Gott</i> didn’t do the scolding in the daytime, as she had been so +<i>tight</i> asleep. They all three speak a wonderful mixture of German and +English, adulterating the purity of their native tongue by putting in English +words in the middle of a German sentence. It always reminds me of Justice +tempered by Mercy. +</p> + +<p> +We have been cowslipping to-day in a little wood dignified by the name of the +Hirschwald, because it is the happy hunting-ground of innumerable deer who +fight there in the autumn evenings, calling each other out to combat with +bayings that ring through the silence and send agreeable shivers through the +lonely listener. I often walk there in September, late in the evening, and +sitting on a fallen tree listen fascinated to their angry cries. +</p> + +<p> +We made cowslip balls sitting on the grass. The babies had never seen such +things nor had imagined anything half so sweet. The Hirschwald is a little open +wood of silver birches and springy turf starred with flowers, and there is a +tiny stream meandering amiably about it and decking itself in June with yellow +flags. I have dreams of having a little cottage built there, with the daisies +up to the door, and no path of any sort—just big enough to hold myself and one +baby inside and a purple clematis outside. Two rooms—a bedroom and a kitchen. +How scared we would be at night, and how completely happy by day! I know the +exact spot where it should stand, facing south-east, so that we should get all +the cheerfulness of the morning, and close to the stream, so that we might wash +our plates among the flags. Sometimes, when in the mood for society, we would +invite the remaining babies to tea and entertain them with wild strawberries on +plates of horse-chestnut leaves; but no one less innocent and easily pleased +than a baby would be permitted to darken the effulgence of our sunny +cottage—indeed, I don’t suppose that anybody wiser would care to come. Wise +people want so many things before they can even begin to enjoy themselves, and +I feel perpetually apologetic when with them, for only being able to offer them +that which I love best myself—apologetic, and ashamed of being so easily +contented. +</p> + +<p> +The other day at a dinner party in the nearest town (it took us the whole +afternoon to get there) the women after dinner were curious to know how I had +endured the winter, cut off from everybody and snowed up sometimes for weeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, these husbands!” sighed an ample lady, lugubriously shaking her head; +“they shut up their wives because it suits them, and don’t care what their +sufferings are.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the others sighed and shook their heads too, for the ample lady was a +great local potentate, and one began to tell how another dreadful husband had +brought his young wife into the country and had kept her there, concealing her +beauty and accomplishments from the public in a most cruel manner, and how, +after spending a certain number of years in alternately weeping and producing +progeny, she had quite lately run away with somebody unspeakable—I think it was +the footman, or the baker, or some one of that sort. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am quite happy,” I began, as soon as I could put in a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, a good little wife, making the best of it,” and the female potentate +patted my hand, but continued gloomily to shake her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot possibly be happy in the winter entirely alone,” asserted another +lady, the wife of a high military authority and not accustomed to be +contradicted. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can you possibly be at your age? No, it is not possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I <i>am</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your husband ought to bring you to town in the winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t want to be brought to town.” +</p> + +<p> +“And not let you waste your best years buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I like being buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such solitude is not right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not solitary.” +</p> + +<p> +“And can come to no good.” She was getting quite angry. +</p> + +<p> +There was a chorus of No Indeeds at her last remark, and renewed shaking of +heads. +</p> + +<p> +“I enjoyed the winter immensely,” I persisted when they were a little quieter; +“I sleighed and skated, and then there were the children, and shelves and +shelves full of—” I was going to say books, but stopped. Reading is an +occupation for men; for women it is reprehensible waste of time. And how could +I talk to them of the happiness I felt when the sun shone on the snow, or of +the deep delight of hoar-frost days? +</p> + +<p> +“It is entirely my doing that we have come down here,” I proceeded, “and my +husband only did it to please me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such a good little wife,” repeated the patronising potentate, again patting my +hand with an air of understanding all about it, “really an excellent little +wife. But you must not let your husband have his own way too much, my dear, and +take my advice and insist on his bringing you to town next winter.” And then +they fell to talking about their cooks, having settled to their entire +satisfaction that my fate was probably lying in wait for me too, lurking +perhaps at that very moment behind the apparently harmless brass buttons of the +man in the hall with my cloak. +</p> + +<p> +I laughed on the way home, and I laughed again for sheer satisfaction when we +reached the garden and drove between the quiet trees to the pretty old house; +and when I went into the library, with its four windows open to the moonlight +and the scent, and looked round at the familiar bookshelves, and could hear no +sounds but sounds of peace, and knew that here I might read or dream or idle +exactly as I chose with never a creature to disturb me, how grateful I felt to +the kindly Fate that has brought me here and given me a heart to understand my +own blessedness, and rescued me from a life like that I had just seen—a life +spent with the odours of other people’s dinners in one’s nostrils, and the +noise of their wrangling servants in one’s ears, and parties and tattle for all +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +But I must confess to having felt sometimes quite crushed when some grand +person, examining the details of my home through her eyeglass, and coolly +dissecting all that I so much prize from the convenient distance of the open +window, has finished up by expressing sympathy with my loneliness, and on my +protesting that I like it, has murmured, “<i>sehr anspruchslos</i>.” Then +indeed I have felt ashamed of the fewness of my wants; but only for a moment, +and only under the withering influence of the eyeglass; for, after all, the +owner’s spirit is the same spirit as that which dwells in my servants—girls +whose one idea of happiness is to live in a town where there are others of +their sort with whom to drink beer and dance on Sunday afternoons. The passion +for being for ever with one’s fellows, and the fear of being left for a few +hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible. I can entertain myself quite +well for weeks together, hardly aware, except for the pervading peace, that I +have been alone at all. Not but what I like to have people staying with me for +a few days, or even for a few weeks, should they be as <i>anspruchslos</i> as I +am myself, and content with simple joys; only, any one who comes here and would +be happy must have something in him; if he be a mere blank creature, empty of +head and heart, he will very probably find it dull. I should like my house to +be often full if I could find people capable of enjoying themselves. They +should be welcomed and sped with equal heartiness; for truth compels me to +confess that, though it pleases me to see them come, it pleases me just as much +to see them go. +</p> + +<p> +On some very specially divine days, like today, I have actually longed for some +one else to be here to enjoy the beauty with me. There has been rain in the +night, and the whole garden seems to be singing—not the untiring birds only, +but the vigorous plants, the happy grass and trees, the lilac bushes—oh, those +lilac bushes! They are all out to-day, and the garden is drenched with the +scent. I have brought in armfuls, the picking is such a delight, and every pot +and bowl and tub in the house is filled with purple glory, and the servants +think there is going to be a party and are extra nimble, and I go from room to +room gazing at the sweetness, and the windows are all flung open so as to join +the scent within to the scent without; and the servants gradually discover that +there is no party, and wonder why the house should be filled with flowers for +one woman by herself, and I long more and more for a kindred spirit—it seems so +greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself—but kindred spirits are so very, +very rare; I might almost as well cry for the moon. It is true that my garden +is full of friends, only they are—dumb. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>June</i> 3<i>rd</i>.—This is such an out-of-the-way corner of the world that +it requires quite unusual energy to get here at all, and I am thus delivered +from casual callers; while, on the other hand, people I love, or people who +love me, which is much the same thing, are not likely to be deterred from +coming by the roundabout train journey and the long drive at the end. Not the +least of my many blessings is that we have only one neighbour. If you have to +have neighbours at all, it is at least a mercy that there should be only one; +for with people dropping in at all hours and wanting to talk to you, how are +you to get on with your life, I should like to know, and read your books, and +dream your dreams to your satisfaction? Besides, there is always the certainty +that either you or the dropper-in will say something that would have been +better left unsaid, and I have a holy horror of gossip and mischief-making. A +woman’s tongue is a deadly weapon and the most difficult thing in the world to +keep in order, and things slip off it with a facility nothing short of +appalling at the very moment when it ought to be most quiet. In such cases the +only safe course is to talk steadily about cooks and children, and to pray that +the visit may not be too prolonged, for if it is you are lost. Cooks I have +found to be the best of all subjects—the most phlegmatic flush into life at the +mere word, and the joys and sufferings connected with them are experiences +common to us all. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily, our neighbour and his wife are both busy and charming, with a whole +troop of flaxen-haired little children to keep them occupied, besides the +business of their large estate. Our intercourse is arranged on lines of the +most beautiful simplicity. I call on her once a year, and she returns the call +a fortnight later; they ask us to dinner in the summer, and we ask them to +dinner in the winter. By strictly keeping to this, we avoid all danger of that +closer friendship which is only another name for frequent quarrels. She is a +pattern of what a German country lady should be, and is not only a pretty woman +but an energetic and practical one, and the combination is, to say the least, +effective. She is up at daylight superintending the feeding of the stock, the +butter-making, the sending off of the milk for sale; a thousand things get done +while most people are fast asleep, and before lazy folk are well at breakfast +she is off in her pony-carriage to the other farms on the place, to rate the +“mamsells,” as the head women are called, to poke into every corner, lift the +lids off the saucepans, count the new-laid eggs, and box, if necessary, any +careless dairymaid’s ears. We are allowed by law to administer “slight corporal +punishment” to our servants, it being left entirely to individual taste to +decide what “slight” shall be, and my neighbour really seems to enjoy using +this privilege, judging from the way she talks about it. I would give much to +be able to peep through a keyhole and see the dauntless little lady, terrible +in her wrath and dignity, standing on tiptoe to box the ears of some great +strapping girl big enough to eat her. +</p> + +<p> +The making of cheese and butter and sausages <i>excellently</i> well is a work +which requires brains, and is, to my thinking, a very admirable form of +activity, and entirely worthy of the attention of the intelligent. That my +neighbour is intelligent is at once made evident by the bright alertness of her +eyes—eyes that nothing escapes, and that only gain in prettiness by being used +to some good purpose. She is a recognised authority for miles around on the +mysteries of sausage-making, the care of calves, and the slaughtering of swine; +and with all her manifold duties and daily prolonged absences from home, her +children are patterns of health and neatness, and of what dear little German +children, with white pigtails and fearless eyes and thick legs, should be. Who +shall say that such a life is sordid and dull and unworthy of a high order of +intelligence? I protest that to me it is a beautiful life, full of wholesome +outdoor work, and with no room for those listless moments of depression and +boredom, and of wondering what you will do next, that leave wrinkles round a +pretty woman’s eyes, and are not unknown even to the most brilliant. But while +admiring my neighbour, I don’t think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, +my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather of +that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume +of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow +trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green +pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous +fields. And it would make me perfectly wretched to be confronted by ears so +refractory as to require boxing. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes callers from a distance invade my solitude, and it is on these +occasions that I realise how absolutely alone each individual is, and how far +away from his neighbour; and while they talk (generally about babies, past, +present, and to come), I fall to wondering at the vast and impassable distance +that separates one’s own soul from the soul of the person sitting in the next +chair. I am speaking of comparative strangers, people who are forced to stay a +certain time by the eccentricities of trains, and in whose presence you grope +about after common interests and shrink back into your shell on finding that +you have none. Then a frost slowly settles down on me and I grow each minute +more benumbed and speechless, and the babies feel the frost in the air and look +vacant, and the callers go through the usual form of wondering who they most +take after, generally settling the question by saying that the May baby, who is +the beauty, is like her father, and that the two more or less plain ones are +the image of me, and this decision, though I know it of old and am sure it is +coming, never fails to depress me as much as though I heard it for the first +time. The babies are very little and inoffensive and good, and it is hard that +they should be used as a means of filling up gaps in conversation, and their +features pulled to pieces one by one, and all their weak points noted and +criticised, while they stand smiling shyly in the operator’s face, their very +smile drawing forth comments on the shape of their mouths; but, after all, it +does not occur very often, and they are one of those few interests one has in +common with other people, as everybody seems to have babies. A garden, I have +discovered, is by no means a fruitful topic, and it is amazing how few persons +really love theirs—they all pretend they do, but you can hear by the very tone +of their voice what a lukewarm affection it is. About June their interest is at +its warmest, nourished by agreeable supplies of strawberries and roses; but on +reflection I don’t know a single person within twenty miles who really cares +for his garden, or has discovered the treasures of happiness that are buried in +it, and are to be found if sought for diligently, and if needs be with tears. +It is after these rare calls that I experience the only moments of depression +from which I ever suffer, and then I am angry at myself, a well-nourished +person, for allowing even a single precious hour of life to be spoiled by +anything so indifferent. That is the worst of being fed enough, and clothed +enough, and warmed enough, and of having everything you can reasonably +desire—on the least provocation you are made uncomfortable and unhappy by such +abstract discomforts as being shut out from a nearer approach to your +neighbour’s soul; which is on the face of it foolish, the probability being +that he hasn’t got one. +</p> + +<p> +The rockets are all out. The gardener, in a fit of inspiration, put them right +along the very front of two borders, and I don’t know what his feelings can be +now that they are all flowering and the plants behind are completely hidden; +but I have learned another lesson, and no future gardener shall be allowed to +run riot among my rockets in quite so reckless a fashion. They are charming +things, as delicate in colour as in scent, and a bowl of them on my +writing-table fills the room with fragrance. Single rows, however, are a +mistake; I had masses of them planted in the grass, and these show how lovely +they can be. A border full of rockets, mauve and white, and nothing else, must +be beautiful; but I don’t know how long they last nor what they look like when +they have done flowering. This I shall find out in a week or two, I suppose. +Was ever a would-be gardener left so entirely to his own blundering? No doubt +it would be a gain of years to the garden if I were not forced to learn solely +by my failures, and if I had some kind creature to tell me when to do things. +At present the only flowers in the garden are the rockets, the pansies in the +rose beds, and two groups of azaleas—mollis and pontica. The azaleas have been +and still are gorgeous; I only planted them this spring and they almost at once +began to flower, and the sheltered corner they are in looks as though it were +filled with imprisoned and perpetual sunsets. Orange, lemon, pink in every +delicate shade—what they will be next year and in succeeding years when the +bushes are bigger, I can imagine from the way they have begun life. On gray, +dull days the effect is absolutely startling. Next autumn I shall make a great +bank of them in front of a belt of fir trees in rather a gloomy nook. My +tea-roses are covered with buds which will not open for at least another week, +so I conclude this is not the sort of climate where they will flower from the +very beginning of June to November, as they are said to do. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>July</i> 11<i>th</i>.—There has been no rain since the day before +Whitsunday, five weeks ago, which partly, but not entirely, accounts for the +disappointment my beds have been. The dejected gardener went mad soon after +Whitsuntide, and had to be sent to an asylum. He took to going about with a +spade in one hand and a revolver in the other, explaining that he felt safer +that way, and we bore it quite patiently, as becomes civilised beings who +respect each other’s prejudices, until one day, when I mildly asked him to tie +up a fallen creeper—and after he bought the revolver my tones in addressing him +were of the mildest, and I quite left off reading to him aloud—he turned round, +looked me straight in the face for the first time since he has been here, and +said, “Do I look like Graf X———— (a great local celebrity), or like a monkey?” +After which there was nothing for it but to get him into an asylum as +expeditiously as possible. There was no gardener to be had in his place, and I +have only just succeeded in getting one; so that what with the drought, and the +neglect, and the gardener’s madness, and my blunders, the garden is in a sad +condition; but even in a sad condition it is the dearest place in the world, +and all my mistakes only make me more determined to persevere. +</p> + +<p> +The long borders, where the rockets were, are looking dreadful. The rockets +have done flowering, and, after the manner of rockets in other walks of life, +have degenerated into sticks; and nothing else in those borders intends to +bloom this summer. The giant poppies I had planted out in them in April have +either died off or remained quite small, and so have the columbines; here and +there a delphinium droops unwillingly, and that is all. I suppose poppies +cannot stand being moved, or perhaps they were not watered enough at the time +of transplanting; anyhow, those borders are going to be sown to-morrow with +more poppies for next year; for poppies I will have, whether they like it or +not, and they shall not be touched, only thinned out. +</p> + +<p> +Well, it is no use being grieved, and after all, directly I come out and sit +under the trees, and look at the dappled sky, and see the sunshine on the +cornfields away on the plain, all the disappointment smooths itself out, and it +seems impossible to be sad and discontented when everything about me is so +radiant and kind. +</p> + +<p> +To-day is Sunday, and the garden is so quiet, that, sitting here in this shady +corner watching the lazy shadows stretching themselves across the grass, and +listening to the rooks quarrelling in the treetops, I almost expect to hear +English church bells ringing for the afternoon service. But the church is three +miles off, has no bells, and no afternoon service. Once a fortnight we go to +morning prayer at eleven and sit up in a sort of private box with a room +behind, whither we can retire unobserved when the sermon is too long or our +flesh too weak, and hear ourselves being prayed for by the black-robed parson. +In winter the church is bitterly cold; it is not heated, and we sit muffled up +in more furs than ever we wear out of doors; but it would of course be very +wicked for the parson to wear furs, however cold he may be, so he puts on a +great many extra coats under his gown, and, as the winter progresses, swells to +a prodigious size. We know when spring is coming by the reduction in his +figure. The congregation sit at ease while the parson does the praying for +them, and while they are droning the long-drawn-out chorales, he retires into a +little wooden box just big enough to hold him. He does not come out until he +thinks we have sung enough, nor do we stop until his appearance gives us the +signal. I have often thought how dreadful it would be if he fell ill in his box +and left us to go on singing. I am sure we should never dare to stop, +unauthorised by the Church. I asked him once what he did in there; he looked +very shocked at such a profane question, and made an evasive reply. +</p> + +<p> +If it were not for the garden, a German Sunday would be a terrible day; but in +the garden on that day there is a sigh of relief and more profound peace, +nobody raking or sweeping or fidgeting; only the little flowers themselves and +the whispering trees. +</p> + +<p> +I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors—not stray callers to be got +rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are sorry afterwards +that you said, but people staying in the house and not to be got rid of at all. +All June was lost to me in this way, and it was from first to last a radiant +month of heat and beauty; but a garden where you meet the people you saw at +breakfast, and will see again at lunch and dinner, is not a place to be happy +in. Besides, they had a knack of finding out my favourite seats and lounging in +them just when I longed to lounge myself; and they took books out of the +library with them, and left them face downwards on the seats all night to get +well drenched with dew, though they might have known that what is meat for +roses is poison for books; and they gave me to understand that if they had had +the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long ago—whereas I +don’t believe a garden ever is finished. They have all gone now, thank heaven, +except one, so that I have a little breathing space before others begin to +arrive. It seems that the place interests people, and that there is a sort of +novelty in staying in such a deserted corner of the world, for they were in a +perpetual state of mild amusement at being here at all. +</p> + +<p> +Irais is the only one left. She is a young woman with a beautiful, refined +face, and her eyes and straight, fine eyebrows are particularly lovable. At +meals she dips her bread into the salt-cellar, bites a bit off, and repeats the +process, although providence (taking my shape) has caused salt-spoons to be +placed at convenient intervals down the table. She lunched to-day on beer, +<i>Schweinekoteletten</i>, and cabbage-salad with caraway seeds in it, and now +I hear her through the open window, extemporising touching melodies in her +charming, cooing voice. She is thin, frail, intelligent, and lovable, all on +the above diet. What better proof can be needed to establish the superiority of +the Teuton than the fact that after such meals he can produce such music? +Cabbage salad is a horrid invention, but I don’t doubt its utility as a means +of encouraging thoughtfulness; nor will I quarrel with it, since it results so +poetically, any more than I quarrel with the manure that results in roses, and +I give it to Irais every day to make her sing. She is the sweetest singer I +have ever heard, and has a charming trick of making up songs as she goes along. +When she begins, I go and lean out of the window and look at my little friends +out there in the borders while listening to her music, and feel full of +pleasant sadness and regret. It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to +be sad about. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby came panting up just as I had written that, the others hurrying +along behind, and with flaming cheeks displayed for my admiration three +brand-new kittens, lean and blind, that she was carrying in her pinafore, and +that had just been found motherless in the woodshed. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” she cried breathlessly, “such a much!” +</p> + +<p> +I was glad it was only kittens this time, for she had been once before this +afternoon on purpose, as she informed me, sitting herself down on the grass at +my feet, to ask about the <i>lieber Gott</i>, it being Sunday and her pious +little nurse’s conversation having run, as it seems, on heaven and angels. +</p> + +<p> +Her questions about the <i>lieber Gott</i> are better left unrecorded, and I +was relieved when she began about the angels. +</p> + +<p> +“What do they wear for clothes?” she asked in her German-English. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve seen them in pictures,” I answered, “in beautiful, long dresses, +and with big, white wings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Feathers?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,—and long dresses, all white and beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are they girlies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Girls? Ye—es.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t boys go into the <i>Himmel?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, if they’re good.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then what do <i>they</i> wear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the same as all the other angels, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Dwesses?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She began to laugh, looking at me sideways as though she suspected me of making +jokes. “What a funny Mummy!” she said, evidently much amused. She has a fat +little laugh that is very infectious. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said I, gravely, “you had better go and play with the other babies.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer, and sat still a moment watching the clouds. I began writing +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Mummy,” she said presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do the angels get their dwesses?” +</p> + +<p> +I hesitated. “From <i>lieber Gott</i>,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Are there shops in the <i>Himmel?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Shops? No.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, then, where does <i>lieber Gott</i> buy their dwesses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now run away like a good baby; I’m busy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you said yesterday, when I asked about <i>lieber Gott</i>, that you would +tell about Him on Sunday, and it is Sunday. Tell me a story about Him.” +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing for it but resignation, so I put down my pencil with a sigh. +“Call the others, then.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran away, and presently they all three emerged from the bushes one after +the other, and tried all together to scramble on to my knee. The April baby got +the knee as she always seems to get everything, and the other two had to sit on +the grass. +</p> + +<p> +I began about Adam and Eve, with an eye to future parsonic probings. The April +baby’s eyes opened wider and wider, and her face grew redder and redder. I was +surprised at the breathless interest she took in the story—the other two were +tearing up tufts of grass and hardly listening. I had scarcely got to the +angels with the flaming swords and announced that that was all, when she burst +out, “Now <i>I’ll</i> tell about it. Once upon a time there was Adam and Eva, +and they had <i>plenty</i> of clothes, and there was no snake, and <i>lieber +Gott</i> wasn’t angry with them, and they could eat as many apples as they +liked, and was happy for ever and ever—there now!” +</p> + +<p> +She began to jump up and down defiantly on my knee. +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s not the story,” I said rather helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! It’s a much nicelier one! Now another.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these stories are <i>true</i>,” I said severely; “and it’s no use my +telling them if you make them up your own way afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another! another!” she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled energy, +all her silvery curls flying. +</p> + +<p> +I began about Noah and the flood. +</p> + +<p> +“Did it rain <i>so</i> badly?” she asked with a face of the deepest concern and +interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks——” +</p> + +<p> +“And was everybody so wet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—” +</p> + +<p> +“But why didn’t they open their umbwellas?” +</p> + +<p> +Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you the rest another time,” I said, putting her off my knee, greatly +relieved; “you must all go to Anna now and have tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like Anna,” remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened her +lips; “she is a stupid girl.” +</p> + +<p> +The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for, besides +being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not to hurt any +one’s feelings, they had been brought up to love and respect their kind little +nurse. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger, pointed it +at the criminal in just indignation. “Such a child will never go into the +<i>Himmel</i>,” she said with great emphasis, and the air of one who delivers +judgment. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>September</i> 15<i>th</i>.—This is the month of quiet days, crimson +creepers, and blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea +under the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in the +library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon and +blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit cleaning +themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath shoots partridges +across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as though it would dream on +for ever. It is hard to believe that in three months we shall probably be +snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling about this month that +reminds me of March and the early days of April, when spring is still +hesitating on the threshold and the garden holds its breath in expectation. +There is the same mildness in the air, and the sky and grass have the same look +as then; but the leaves tell a different tale, and the reddening creeper on the +house is rapidly approaching its last and loveliest glory. +</p> + +<p> +My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected, and the +Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most beautiful, the +latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden, each flower an exquisite +loose cluster of coral-pink petals, paling at the base to a yellow-white. I +have ordered a hundred standard tea-roses for planting next month, half of +which are Viscountess Folkestones, because the tea-roses have such a way of +hanging their little heads that one has to kneel down to be able to see them +well in the dwarf forms—not but what I entirely approve of kneeling before such +perfect beauty, only it dirties one’s clothes. So I am going to put standards +down each side of the walk under the south windows, and shall have the flowers +on a convenient level for worship. My only fear is, that they will stand the +winter less well than the dwarf sorts, being so difficult to pack up snugly. +The Persian Yellows and Bicolors have been, as I predicted, a mistake among the +tea-roses; they only flower twice in the season and all the rest of the time +look dull and moping; and then the Persian Yellows have such an odd smell and +so many insects inside them eating them up. I have ordered Safrano tea-roses to +put in their place, as they all come out next month and are to be grouped in +the grass; and the semicircle being immediately under the windows, besides +having the best position in the place, must be reserved solely for my choicest +treasures. I have had a great many disappointments, but feel as though I were +really beginning to learn. Humility, and the most patient perseverance, seem +almost as necessary in gardening as rain and sunshine, and every failure must +be used as a stepping-stone to something better. +</p> + +<p> +I had a visitor last week who knows a great deal about gardening and has had +much practical experience. When I heard he was coming, I felt I wanted to put +my arms right round my garden and hide it from him; but what was my surprise +and delight when he said, after having gone all over it, “Well, I think you +have done wonders.” Dear me, how pleased I was! It was so entirely unexpected, +and such a complete novelty after the remarks I have been listening to all the +summer. I could have hugged that discerning and indulgent critic, able to look +beyond the result to the intention, and appreciating the difficulties of every +kind that had been in the way. After that I opened my heart to him, and +listened reverently to all he had to say, and treasured up his kind and +encouraging advice, and wished he could stay here a whole year and help me +through the seasons. But he went, as people one likes always do go, and he was +the only guest I have had whose departure made me sorry. +</p> + +<p> +The people I love are always somewhere else and not able to come to me, while I +can at any time fill the house with visitors about whom I know little and care +less. Perhaps, if I saw more of those absent ones, I would not love them so +well—at least, that is what I think on wet days when the wind is howling round +the house and all nature is overcome with grief; and it has actually happened +once or twice when great friends have been staying with me that I have wished, +when they left, I might not see them again for at least ten years. I suppose +the fact is, that no friendship can stand the breakfast test, and here, in the +country, we invariably think it our duty to appear at breakfast. Civilisation +has done away with curl-papers, yet at that hour the soul of the +<i>Hausfrau</i> is as tightly screwed up in them as was ever her grandmother’s +hair; and though my body comes down mechanically, having been trained that way +by punctual parents, my soul never thinks of beginning to wake up for other +people till lunch-time, and never does so completely till it has been taken out +of doors and aired in the sunshine. Who can begin conventional amiability the +first thing in the morning? It is the hour of savage instincts and natural +tendencies; it is the triumph of the Disagreeable and the Cross. I am convinced +that the Muses and the Graces never thought of having breakfast anywhere but in +bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>November</i> 11<i>th</i>.—When the gray November weather came, and hung its +soft dark clouds low and unbroken over the brown of the ploughed fields and the +vivid emerald of the stretches of winter corn, the heavy stillness weighed my +heart down to a forlorn yearning after the pleasant things of childhood, the +petting, the comforting, the warming faith in the unfailing wisdom of elders. A +great need of something to lean on, and a great weariness of independence and +responsibility took possession of my soul; and looking round for support and +comfort in that transitory mood, the emptiness of the present and the blankness +of the future sent me back to the past with all its ghosts. Why should I not go +and see the place where I was born, and where I lived so long; the place where +I was so magnificently happy, so exquisitely wretched, so close to heaven, so +near to hell, always either up on a cloud of glory, or down in the depths with +the waters of despair closing over my head? Cousins live in it now, distant +cousins, loved with the exact measure of love usually bestowed on cousins who +reign in one’s stead; cousins of practical views, who have dug up the +flower-beds and planted cabbages where roses grew; and though through all the +years since my father’s death I have held my head so high that it hurt, and +loftily refused to listen to their repeated suggestions that I should revisit +my old home, something in the sad listlessness of the November days sent my +spirit back to old times with a persistency that would not be set aside, and I +woke from my musings surprised to find myself sick with longing. It is foolish +but natural to quarrel with one’s cousins, and especially foolish and natural +when they have done nothing, and are mere victims of chance. Is it their fault +that my not being a boy placed the shoes I should otherwise have stepped into +at their disposal? I know it is not; but their blamelessness does not make me +love them more. “<i>Noch ein dummes Frauenzimmer!</i>” cried my father, on my +arrival into the world—he had three of them already, and I was his last +hope,—and a <i>dummes Frauenzimmer</i> I have remained ever since; and that is +why for years I would have no dealings with the cousins in possession, and that +is why, the other day, overcome by the tender influence of the weather, the +purely sentimental longing to join hands again with my childhood was enough to +send all my pride to the winds, and to start me off without warning and without +invitation on my pilgrimage. +</p> + +<p> +I have always had a liking for pilgrimages, and if I had lived in the Middle +Ages would have spent most of my time on the way to Rome. The pilgrims, leaving +all their cares at home, the anxieties of their riches or their debts, the wife +that worried and the children that disturbed, took only their sins with them, +and turning their backs on their obligations, set out with that sole burden, +and perhaps a cheerful heart. How cheerful my heart would have been, starting +on a fine morning, with the smell of the spring in my nostrils, fortified by +the approval of those left behind, accompanied by the pious blessings of my +family, with every step getting farther from the suffocation of daily duties, +out into the wide fresh world, out into the glorious free world, so poor, so +penitent, and so happy! My dream, even now, is to walk for weeks with some +friend that I love, leisurely wandering from place to place, with no route +arranged and no object in view, with liberty to go on all day or to linger all +day, as we choose; but the question of luggage, unknown to the simple pilgrim, +is one of the rocks on which my plans have been shipwrecked, and the other is +the certain censure of relatives, who, not fond of walking themselves, and +having no taste for noonday naps under hedges, would be sure to paralyse my +plans before they had grown to maturity by the honest horror of their cry, “How +very unpleasant if you were to meet any one you know!” The relative of five +hundred years back would simply have said, “How holy!” +</p> + +<p> +My father had the same liking for pilgrimages—indeed, it is evident that I have +it from him—and he encouraged it in me when I was little, taking me with him on +his pious journeys to places he had lived in as a boy. Often have we been +together to the school he was at in Brandenburg, and spent pleasant days +wandering about the old town on the edge of one of those lakes that lie in a +chain in that wide green plain; and often have we been in Potsdam, where he was +quartered as a lieutenant, the Potsdam pilgrimage including hours in the woods +around and in the gardens of Sans Souci, with the second volume of Carlyle’s +Frederick under my father’s arm; and often did we spend long summer days at the +house in the Mark, at the head of the same blue chain of lakes, where his +mother spent her young years, and where, though it belonged to cousins, like +everything else that was worth having, we could wander about as we chose, for +it was empty, and sit in the deep windows of rooms where there was no +furniture, and the painted Venuses and cupids on the ceiling still smiled +irrelevantly and stretched their futile wreaths above the emptiness beneath. +And while we sat and rested, my father told me, as my grandmother had a hundred +times told him, all that had happened in those rooms in the far-off days when +people danced and sang and laughed through life, and nobody seemed ever to be +old or sorry. +</p> + +<p> +There was, and still is, an inn within a stone’s throw of the great iron gates, +with two very old lime trees in front of it, where we used to lunch on our +arrival at a little table spread with a red and blue check cloth, the lime +blossoms dropping into our soup, and the bees humming in the scented shadows +overhead. I have a picture of the house by my side as I write, done from the +lake in old times, with a boat full of ladies in hoops and powder in the +foreground, and a youth playing a guitar. The pilgrimages to this place were +those I loved the best. +</p> + +<p> +But the stories my father told me, sometimes odd enough stories to tell a +little girl, as we wandered about the echoing rooms, or hung over the stone +balustrade and fed the fishes in the lake, or picked the pale dog-roses in the +hedges, or lay in the boat in a shady reed-grown bay while he smoked to keep +the mosquitoes off, were after all only traditions, imparted to me in small +doses from time to time, when his earnest desire not to raise his remarks above +the level of dulness supposed to be wholesome for <i>Backfische</i> was +neutralised by an impulse to share his thoughts with somebody who would laugh; +whereas the place I was bound for on my latest pilgrimage was filled with +living, first-hand memories of all the enchanted years that lie between two and +eighteen. How enchanted those years are is made more and more clear to me the +older I grow. There has been nothing in the least like them since; and though I +have forgotten most of what happened six months ago, every incident, almost +every day of those wonderful long years is perfectly distinct in my memory. +</p> + +<p> +But I had been stiffnecked, proud, unpleasant, altogether cousinly in my +behaviour towards the people in possession. The invitations to revisit the old +home had ceased. The cousins had grown tired of refusals, and had left me +alone. I did not even know who lived in it now, it was so long since I had had +any news. For two days I fought against the strong desire to go there that had +suddenly seized me, and assured myself that I would not go, that it would be +absurd to go, undignified, sentimental, and silly, that I did not know them and +would be in an awkward position, and that I was old enough to know better. But +who can foretell from one hour to the next what a woman will do? And when does +she ever know better? On the third morning I set out as hopefully as though it +were the most natural thing in the world to fall unexpectedly upon hitherto +consistently neglected cousins, and expect to be received with open arms. +</p> + +<p> +It was a complicated journey, and lasted several hours. During the first part, +when it was still dark, I glowed with enthusiasm, with the spirit of adventure, +with delight at the prospect of so soon seeing the loved place again; and +thought with wonder of the long years I had allowed to pass since last I was +there. Of what I should say to the cousins, and of how I should introduce +myself into their midst, I did not think at all: the pilgrim spirit was upon +me, the unpractical spirit that takes no thought for anything, but simply +wanders along enjoying its own emotions. It was a quiet, sad morning, and there +was a thick mist. By the time I was in the little train on the light railway +that passed through the village nearest my old home, I had got over my first +enthusiasm, and had entered the stage of critically examining the changes that +had been made in the last ten years. It was so misty that I could see nothing +of the familiar country from the carriage windows, only the ghosts of pines in +the front row of the forests; but the railway itself was a new departure, +unknown in our day, when we used to drive over ten miles of deep, sandy forest +roads to and from the station, and although most people would have called it an +evident and great improvement, it was an innovation due, no doubt, to the zeal +and energy of the reigning cousin; and who was he, thought I, that he should +require more conveniences than my father had found needful? It was no use my +telling myself that in my father’s time the era of light railways had not +dawned, and that if it had, we should have done our utmost to secure one; the +thought of my cousin, stepping into my shoes, and then altering them, was +odious to me. By the time I was walking up the hill from the station I had got +over this feeling too, and had entered a third stage of wondering uneasily what +in the world I should do next. Where was the intrepid courage with which I had +started? At the top of the first hill I sat down to consider this question in +detail, for I was very near the house now, and felt I wanted time. Where, +indeed, was the courage and joy of the morning? It had vanished so completely +that I could only suppose that it must be lunch time, the observations of years +having led to the discovery that the higher sentiments and virtues fly +affrighted on the approach of lunch, and none fly quicker than courage. So I +ate the lunch I had brought with me, hoping that it was what I wanted; but it +was chilly, made up of sandwiches and pears, and it had to be eaten under a +tree at the edge of a field; and it was November, and the mist was thicker than +ever and very wet—the grass was wet with it, the gaunt tree was wet with it, I +was wet with it, and the sandwiches were wet with it. Nobody’s spirits can keep +up under such conditions; and as I ate the soaked sandwiches, I deplored the +headlong courage more with each mouthful that had torn me from a warm, dry home +where I was appreciated, and had brought me first to the damp tree in the damp +field, and when I had finished my lunch and dessert of cold pears, was going to +drag me into the midst of a circle of unprepared and astonished cousins. Vast +sheep loomed through the mist a few yards off. The sheep dog kept up a +perpetual, irritating yap. In the fog I could hardly tell where I was, though I +knew I must have played there a hundred times as a child. After the fashion of +woman directly she is not perfectly warm and perfectly comfortable, I began to +consider the uncertainty of human life, and to shake my head in gloomy approval +as lugubrious lines of pessimistic poetry suggested themselves to my mind. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is clearly a desirable plan, if you want to do anything, to do it in the +way consecrated by custom, more especially if you are a woman. The rattle of a +carriage along the road just behind me, and the fact that I started and turned +suddenly hot, drove this truth home to my soul. The mist hid me, and the +carriage, no doubt full of cousins, drove on in the direction of the house; but +what an absurd position I was in! Suppose the kindly mist had lifted, and +revealed me lunching in the wet on their property, the cousin of the short and +lofty letters, the <i>unangenehme Elisabeth!</i> “<i>Die war doch immer +verdreht</i>,” I could imagine them hastily muttering to each other, before +advancing wreathed in welcoming smiles. It gave me a great shock, this narrow +escape, and I got on to my feet quickly, and burying the remains of my lunch +under the gigantic molehill on which I had been sitting, asked myself nervously +what I proposed to do next. Should I walk back to the village, go to the +<i>Gasthof</i>, write a letter craving permission to call on my cousins, and +wait there till an answer came? It would be a discreet and sober course to +pursue; the next best thing to having written before leaving home. But the +<i>Gasthof</i> of a north German village is a dreadful place, and the +remembrance of one in which I had taken refuge once from a thunderstorm was +still so vivid that nature itself cried out against this plan. The mist, if +anything, was growing denser. I knew every path and gate in the place. What if +I gave up all hope of seeing the house, and went through the little door in the +wall at the bottom of the garden, and confined myself for this once to that? In +such weather I would be able to wander round as I pleased, without the least +risk of being seen by or meeting any cousins, and it was after all the garden +that lay nearest my heart. What a delight it would be to creep into it +unobserved, and revisit all the corners I so well remembered, and slip out +again and get away safely without any need of explanations, assurances, +protestations, displays of affection, without any need, in a word, of that +exhausting form of conversation, so dear to relations, known as +<i>Redensarten!</i> +</p> + +<p> +The mist tempted me. I think if it had been a fine day I would have gone +soberly to the <i>Gasthof</i> and written the conciliatory letter; but the +temptation was too great, it was altogether irresistible, and in ten minutes I +had found the gate, opened it with some difficulty, and was standing with a +beating heart in the garden of my childhood. +</p> + +<p> +Now I wonder whether I shall ever again feel thrills of the same potency as +those that ran through me at that moment. First of all I was trespassing, which +is in itself thrilling; but how much more thrilling when you are trespassing on +what might just as well have been your own ground, on what actually was for +years your own ground, and when you are in deadly peril of seeing the rightful +owners, whom you have never met, but with whom you have quarrelled, appear +round the corner, and of hearing them remark with an inquiring and awful +politeness “I do not think I have the pleasure—?” Then the place was unchanged. +I was standing in the same mysterious tangle of damp little paths that had +always been just there; they curled away on either side among the shrubs, with +the brown tracks of recent footsteps in the centre of their green stains, just +as they did in my day. The overgrown lilac bushes still met above my head. The +moisture dripped from the same ledge in the wall on to the sodden leaves +beneath, as it had done all through the afternoons of all those past Novembers. +This was the place, this damp and gloomy tangle, that had specially belonged to +me. Nobody ever came to it, for in winter it was too dreary, and in summer so +full of mosquitoes that only a <i>Backfisch</i> indifferent to spots could have +borne it. But it was a place where I could play unobserved, and where I could +walk up and down uninterrupted for hours, building castles in the air. There +was an unwholesome little arbour in one dark corner, much frequented by the +larger black slug, where I used to pass glorious afternoons making plans. I was +for ever making plans, and if nothing came of them, what did it matter? The +mere making had been a joy. To me this out-of-the-way corner was always a +wonderful and a mysterious place, where my castles in the air stood close +together in radiant rows, and where the strangest and most splendid adventures +befell me; for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all +enchanted. +</p> + +<p> +Standing there and looking round with happy eyes, I forgot the existence of the +cousins. I could have cried for joy at being there again. It was the home of my +fathers, the home that would have been mine if I had been a boy, the home that +was mine now by a thousand tender and happy and miserable associations, of +which the people in possession could not dream. They were tenants, but it was +my home. I threw my arms round the trunk of a very wet fir tree, every branch +of which I remembered, for had I not climbed it, and fallen from it, and torn +and bruised myself on it uncountable numbers of times? and I gave it such a +hearty kiss that my nose and chin were smudged into one green stain, and still +I did not care. Far from caring, it filled me with a reckless, <i>Backfisch</i> +pleasure in being dirty, a delicious feeling that I had not had for years. +Alice in Wonderland, after she had drunk the contents of the magic bottle, +could not have grown smaller more suddenly than I grew younger the moment I +passed through that magic door. Bad habits cling to us, however, with such +persistency that I did mechanically pull out my handkerchief and begin to rub +off the welcoming smudge, a thing I never would have dreamed of doing in the +glorious old days; but an artful scent of violets clinging to the handkerchief +brought me to my senses, and with a sudden impulse of scorn, the fine scorn for +scent of every honest <i>Backfisch</i>, I rolled it up into a ball and flung it +away into the bushes, where I daresay it is at this moment. “Away with you,” I +cried, “away with you, symbol of conventionality, of slavery, of pandering to a +desire to please—away with you, miserable little lace-edged rag!” And so young +had I grown within the last few minutes that I did not even feel silly. +</p> + +<p> +As a <i>Backfisch</i> I had never used handkerchiefs—the child of nature scorns +to blow its nose—though for decency’s sake my governess insisted on giving me a +clean one of vast size and stubborn texture on Sundays. It was stowed away +unfolded in the remotest corner of my pocket, where it was gradually pressed +into a beautiful compactness by the other contents, which were knives. After a +while, I remember, the handkerchief being brought to light on Sundays to make +room for a successor, and being manifestly perfectly clean, we came to an +agreement that it should only be changed on the first and third Sundays in the +month, on condition that I promised to turn it on the other Sundays. My +governess said that the outer folds became soiled from the mere contact with +the other things in my pocket, and that visitors might catch sight of the +soiled side if it was never turned when I wished to blow my nose in their +presence, and that one had no right to give one’s visitors shocks. “But I never +do wish——” I began with great earnestness. “<i>Unsinn</i>,” said my governess, +cutting me short. +</p> + +<p> +After the first thrills of joy at being there again had gone, the profound +stillness of the dripping little shrubbery frightened me. It was so still that +I was afraid to move; so still, that I could count each drop of moisture +falling from the oozing wall; so still, that when I held my breath to listen, I +was deafened by my own heart-beats. I made a step forward in the direction +where the arbour ought to be, and the rustling and jingling of my clothes +terrified me into immobility. The house was only two hundred yards off; and if +any one had been about, the noise I had already made opening the creaking door +and so foolishly apostrophising my handkerchief must have been noticed. Suppose +an inquiring gardener, or a restless cousin, should presently loom through the +fog, bearing down upon me? Suppose Fräulein Wundermacher should pounce upon me +suddenly from behind, coming up noiselessly in her galoshes, and shatter my +castles with her customary triumphant “<i>Jetzt halte ich dich aber fest!</i>” +Why, what was I thinking of? Fräulein Wundermacher, so big and masterful, such +an enemy of day-dreams, such a friend of <i>das Praktische</i>, such a lover of +creature comforts, had died long ago, had been succeeded long ago by others, +German sometimes, and sometimes English, and sometimes at intervals French, and +they too had all in their turn vanished, and I was here a solitary ghost. +“Come, Elizabeth,” said I to myself impatiently, “are you actually growing +sentimental over your governesses? If you think you are a ghost, be glad at +least that you are a solitary one. Would you like the ghosts of all those poor +women you tormented to rise up now in this gloomy place against you? And do you +intend to stand here till you are caught?” And thus exhorting myself to action, +and recognising how great was the risk I ran in lingering, I started down the +little path leading to the arbour and the principal part of the garden, going, +it is true, on tiptoe, and very much frightened by the rustling of my +petticoats, but determined to see what I had come to see and not to be scared +away by phantoms. +</p> + +<p> +How regretfully did I think at that moment of the petticoats of my youth, so +short, so silent, and so woollen! And how convenient the canvas shoes were with +the india rubber soles, for creeping about without making a sound! Thanks to +them I could always run swiftly and unheard into my hiding-places, and stay +there listening to the garden resounding with cries of “Elizabeth! Elizabeth! +Come in at once to your lessons!” Or, at a different period, “<i>Où êtes-vous +donc, petite sotte?</i>” Or at yet another period, “<i>Warte nur, wenn ich dich +erst habe!</i>” As the voices came round one corner, I whisked in my noiseless +clothes round the next, and it was only Fräulein Wundermacher, a person of +resource, who discovered that all she needed for my successful circumvention +was galoshes. She purchased a pair, wasted no breath calling me, and would come +up silently, as I stood lapped in a false security lost in the contemplation of +a squirrel or a robin, and seize me by the shoulders from behind, to the +grievous unhinging of my nerves. Stealing along in the fog, I looked back +uneasily once or twice, so vivid was this disquieting memory, and could hardly +be reassured by putting up my hand to the elaborate twists and curls that +compose what my maid calls my <i>Frisur</i>, and that mark the gulf lying +between the present and the past; for it had happened once or twice, awful to +relate and to remember, that Fräulein Wundermacher, sooner than let me slip +through her fingers, had actually caught me by the long plait of hair to whose +other end I was attached and whose English name I had been told was pigtail, +just at the instant when I was springing away from her into the bushes; and so +had led me home triumphant, holding on tight to the rope of hair, and muttering +with a broad smile of special satisfaction, “<i>Diesmal wirst du mir aber nicht +entschlüpfen!</i>” Fräulein Wundermacher, now I came to think of it, must have +been a humourist. She was certainly a clever and a capable woman. But I wished +at that moment that she would not haunt me so persistently, and that I could +get rid of the feeling that she was just behind in her galoshes, with her hand +stretched out to seize me. +</p> + +<p> +Passing the arbour, and peering into its damp recesses, I started back with my +heart in my mouth. I thought I saw my grandfather’s stern eyes shining in the +darkness. It was evident that my anxiety lest the cousins should catch me had +quite upset my nerves, for I am not by nature inclined to see eyes where eyes +are not. “Don’t be foolish, Elizabeth,” murmured my soul in rather a faint +voice, “go in, and make sure.” “But I don’t like going in and making sure,” I +replied. I did go in, however, with a sufficient show of courage, and +fortunately the eyes vanished. What I should have done if they had not I am +altogether unable to imagine. Ghosts are things that I laugh at in the daytime +and fear at night, but I think if I were to meet one I should die. The arbour +had fallen into great decay, and was in the last stage of mouldiness. My +grandfather had had it made, and, like other buildings, it enjoyed a period of +prosperity before being left to the ravages of slugs and children, when he came +down every afternoon in summer and drank his coffee there and read his +<i>Kreuzzeitung</i> and dozed, while the rest of us went about on tiptoe, and +only the birds dared sing. Even the mosquitoes that infested the place were too +much in awe of him to sting him; they certainly never did sting him, and I +naturally concluded it must be because he had forbidden such familiarities. +Although I had played there for so many years since his death, my memory +skipped them all, and went back to the days when it was exclusively his. +Standing on the spot where his armchair used to be, I felt how well I knew him +now from the impressions he made then on my child’s mind, though I was not +conscious of them for more than twenty years. Nobody told me about him, and he +died when I was six, and yet within the last year or two, that strange Indian +summer of remembrance that comes to us in the leisured times when the children +have been born and we have time to think, has made me know him perfectly well. +It is rather an uncomfortable thought for the grown-up, and especially for the +parent, but of a salutary and restraining nature, that though children may not +understand what is said and done before them, and have no interest in it at the +time, and though they may forget it at once and for years, yet these things +that they have seen and heard and not noticed have after all impressed +themselves for ever on their minds, and when they are men and women come +crowding back with surprising and often painful distinctness, and away frisk +all the cherished little illusions in flocks. +</p> + +<p> +I had an awful reverence for my grandfather. He never petted, and he often +frowned, and such people are generally reverenced. Besides, he was a just man, +everybody said; a just man who might have been a great man if he had chosen, +and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory. That he had not so chosen +was held to be a convincing proof of his greatness; for he was plainly too +great to be great in the vulgar sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of +privacy and potentialities. This, at least, as time passed and he still did +nothing, was the belief of the simple people around. People must believe in +somebody, and having pinned their faith on my grandfather in the promising +years that lie round thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there. He +pervaded our family life till my sixth year, and saw to it that we all behaved +ourselves, and then he died, and we were glad that he should be in heaven. He +was a good German (and when Germans are good they are very good) who kept the +commandments, voted for the Government, grew prize potatoes and bred +innumerable sheep, drove to Berlin once a year with the wool in a procession of +waggons behind him and sold it at the annual Wollmarkt, rioted soberly for a +few days there, and then carried most of the proceeds home, hunted as often as +possible, helped his friends, punished his children, read his Bible, said his +prayers, and was genuinely astonished when his wife had the affectation to die +of a broken heart. I cannot pretend to explain this conduct. She ought, of +course, to have been happy in the possession of so good a man; but good men are +sometimes oppressive, and to have one in the house with you and to live in the +daily glare of his goodness must be a tremendous business. After bearing him +seven sons and three daughters, therefore, my grandmother died in the way +described, and afforded, said my grandfather, another and a very curious proof +of the impossibility of ever being sure of your ground with women. The incident +faded more quickly from his mind than it might otherwise have done for its +having occurred simultaneously with the production of a new kind of potato, of +which he was justly proud. He called it <i>Trost in Trauer</i>, and quoted the +text of Scripture <i>Auge um Auge, Zabn um Zahn</i>, after which he did not +again allude to his wife’s decease. In his last years, when my father managed +the estate, and he only lived with us and criticised, he came to have the +reputation of an oracle. The neighbours sent him their sons at the beginning of +any important phase in their lives, and he received them in this very arbour, +administering eloquent and minute advice in the deep voice that rolled round +the shrubbery and filled me with a vague sense of guilt as I played. Sitting +among the bushes playing muffled games for fear of disturbing him, I supposed +he must be reading aloud, so unbroken was the monotony of that majestic roll. +The young men used to come out again bathed in perspiration, much stung by +mosquitoes, and looking bewildered; and when they had got over the impression +made by my grandfather’s speech and presence, no doubt forgot all he had said +with wholesome quickness, and set themselves to the interesting and necessary +work of gaining their own experience. Once, indeed, a dreadful thing happened, +whose immediate consequence was the abrupt end to the long and close friendship +between us and our nearest neighbour. His son was brought to the arbour and +left there in the usual way, and either he must have happened on the critical +half hour after the coffee and before the <i>Kreuzzeitung</i>, when my +grandfather was accustomed to sleep, or he was more courageous than the others +and tried to talk, for very shortly, playing as usual near at hand, I heard my +grandfather’s voice, raised to an extent that made me stop in my game and +quake, saying with deliberate anger, “<i>Hebe dich weg von mir, Sohn des +Satans!</i>” Which was all the advice this particular young man got, and which +he hastened to take, for out he came through the bushes, and though his face +was very pale, there was an odd twist about the corners of his mouth that +reassured me. +</p> + +<p> +This must have happened quite at the end of my grandfather’s life, for almost +immediately afterwards, as it now seems to me, he died before he need have done +because he would eat crab, a dish that never agreed with him, in the face of +his doctor’s warning that if he did he would surely die. “What! am I to be +conquered by crabs?” he demanded indignantly of the doctor; for apart from +loving them with all his heart he had never yet been conquered by anything. +“Nay, sir, the combat is too unequal—do not, I pray you, try it again,” replied +the doctor. But my grandfather ordered crabs that very night for supper, and +went in to table with the shining eyes of one who is determined to conquer or +die, and the crabs conquered, and he died. “He was a just man,” said the +neighbours, except that nearest neighbour, formerly his best friend, “and might +have been a great one had he so chosen.” And they buried him with profound +respect, and the sunshine came into our home life with a burst, and the birds +were not the only creatures that sang, and the arbour, from having been a +temple of Delphic utterances, sank into a home for slugs. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Musing on the strangeness of life, and on the invariable ultimate triumph of +the insignificant and small over the important and vast, illustrated in this +instance by the easy substitution in the arbour of slugs for grandfathers, I +went slowly round the next bend of the path, and came to the broad walk along +the south side of the high wall dividing the flower garden from the kitchen +garden, in which sheltered position my father had had his choicest flowers. +Here the cousins had been at work, and all the climbing roses that clothed the +wall with beauty were gone, and some very neat fruit trees, tidily nailed up at +proper intervals, reigned in their stead. Evidently the cousins knew the value +of this warm aspect, for in the border beneath, filled in my father’s time in +this month of November with the wallflowers that were to perfume the walk in +spring, there was a thick crop of—I stooped down close to make sure—yes, a +thick crop of radishes. My eyes filled with tears at the sight of those +radishes, and it is probably the only occasion on record on which radishes have +made anybody cry. My dear father, whom I so passionately loved, had in his turn +passionately loved this particular border, and spent the spare moments of a +busy life enjoying the flowers that grew in it. He had no time himself for a +more near acquaintance with the delights of gardening than directing what +plants were to be used, but found rest from his daily work strolling up and +down here, or sitting smoking as close to the flowers as possible. “It is the +Purest of Humane pleasures, it is the Greatest Refreshment to the Spirits of +Man,” he would quote (for he read other things besides the +<i>Kreuzzeitung</i>), looking round with satisfaction on reaching this fragrant +haven after a hot day in the fields. Well, the cousins did not think so. Less +fanciful, and more sensible as they probably would have said, their position +plainly was that you cannot eat flowers. Their spirits required no refreshment, +but their bodies needed much, and therefore radishes were more precious than +wallflowers. Nor was my youth wholly destitute of radishes, but they were grown +in the decent obscurity of odd kitchen garden corners and old cucumber frames, +and would never have been allowed to come among the flowers. And only because I +was not a boy here they were profaning the ground that used to be so beautiful. +Oh, it was a terrible misfortune not to have been a boy! And how sad and lonely +it was, after all, in this ghostly garden. The radish bed and what it +symbolised had turned my first joy into grief. This walk and border me too much +of my father reminded, and of all he had been to me. What I knew of good he had +taught me, and what I had of happiness was through him. Only once during all +the years we lived together had we been of different opinions and fallen out, +and it was the one time I ever saw him severe. I was four years old, and +demanded one Sunday to be taken to church. My father said no, for I had never +been to church, and the German service is long and exhausting. I implored. He +again said no. I implored again, and showed such a pious disposition, and so +earnest a determination to behave well, that he gave in, and we went off very +happily hand in hand. “Now mind, Elizabeth,” he said, turning to me at the +church door, “there is no coming out again in the middle. Having insisted on +being brought, thou shalt now sit patiently till the end.” “Oh, yes, oh, yes,” +I promised eagerly, and went in filled with holy fire. The shortness of my +legs, hanging helplessly for two hours midway between the seat and the floor, +was the weapon chosen by Satan for my destruction. In German churches you do +not kneel, and seldom stand, but sit nearly the whole time, praying and singing +in great comfort. If you are four years old, however, this unchanged position +soon becomes one of torture. Unknown and dreadful things go on in your legs, +strange prickings and tinglings and dartings up and down, a sudden terrifying +numbness, when you think they must have dropped off but are afraid to look, +then renewed and fiercer prickings, shootings, and burnings. I thought I must +be very ill, for I had never known my legs like that before. My father sitting +beside me was engrossed in the singing of a chorale that evidently had no end, +each verse finished with a long-drawn-out hallelujah, after which the organ +played by itself for a hundred years—by the organist’s watch, which was wrong, +two minutes exactly—and then another verse began. My father, being the patron +of the living, was careful to sing and pray and listen to the sermon with +exemplary attention, aware that every eye in the little church was on our pew, +and at first I tried to imitate him; but the behaviour of my legs became so +alarming that after vainly casting imploring glances at him and seeing that he +continued his singing unmoved, I put out my hand and pulled his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“Hal-le-lu-jah,” sang my father with deliberation; continuing in a low voice +without changing the expression of his face, his lips hardly moving, and his +eyes fixed abstractedly on the ceiling till the organist, who was also the +postman, should have finished his solo, “Did I not tell thee to sit still, +Elizabeth?” “Yes, but——” “Then do it.” “But I want to go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Unsinn</i>.” And the next verse beginning, my father sang louder than ever. +What could I do? Should I cry? I began to be afraid I was going to die on that +chair, so extraordinary were the sensations in my legs. What could my father do +to me if I did cry? With the quick instinct of small children I felt that he +could not put me in the corner in church, nor would he whip me in public, and +that with the whole village looking on, he was helpless, and would have to give +in. Therefore I tugged his sleeve again and more peremptorily, and prepared to +demand my immediate removal in a loud voice. But my father was ready for me. +Without interrupting his singing, or altering his devout expression, he put his +hand slowly down and gave me a hard pinch—not a playful pinch, but a good hard +unmistakeable pinch, such as I had never imagined possible, and then went on +serenely to the next hallelujah. For a moment I was petrified with +astonishment. Was this my indulgent father, my playmate, adorer, and friend? +Smarting with pain, for I was a round baby, with a nicely stretched, tight +skin, and dreadfully hurt in my feelings, I opened my mouth to shriek in +earnest, when my father’s clear whisper fell on my ear, each word distinct and +not to be misunderstood, his eyes as before gazing meditatively into space, and +his lips hardly moving, “<i>Elizabeth, wenn du schreist, kneife ich dich bis du +platzt</i>.” And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Will Satan mich verschlingen,<br> +So lass die Engel singen<br> + Hallelujah!” +</p> + +<p> +We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing slave, and +after that I was his. +</p> + +<p> +With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to the door +in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of which my own little +garden used to be. The door was open, and I stood still a moment before going +through, to hold my breath and listen. The silence was as profound as before. +The place seemed deserted; and I should have thought the house empty and shut +up but for the carefully tended radishes and the recent footmarks on the green +of the path. They were the footmarks of a child. I was stooping down to examine +a specially clear one, when the loud caw of a very bored looking crow sitting +on the wall just above my head made me jump as I have seldom in my life jumped, +and reminded me that I was trespassing. Clearly my nerves were all to pieces, +for I gathered up my skirts and fled through the door as though a whole army of +ghosts and cousins were at my heels, nor did I stop till I had reached the +remote corner where my garden was. “Are you enjoying yourself, Elizabeth?” +asked the mocking sprite that calls itself my soul: but I was too much out of +breath to answer. +</p> + +<p> +This was really a very safe corner. It was separated from the main garden and +the house by the wall, and shut in on the north side by an orchard, and it was +to the last degree unlikely that any one would come there on such an afternoon. +This plot of ground, turned now as I saw into a rockery, had been the scene of +my most untiring labours. Into the cold earth of this north border on which the +sun never shone I had dug my brightest hopes. All my pocket money had been +spent on it, and as bulbs were dear and my weekly allowance small, in a fatal +hour I had borrowed from Fräulein Wundermacher, selling her my independence, +passing utterly into her power, forced as a result till my next birthday should +come round to an unnatural suavity of speech and manner in her company, against +which my very soul revolted. And after all, nothing came up. The labour of +digging and watering, the anxious zeal with which I pounced on weeds, the +poring over gardening books, the plans made as I sat on the little seat in the +middle gazing admiringly and with the eye of faith on the trim surface so soon +to be gemmed with a thousand flowers, the reckless expenditure of +<i>pfennings</i>, the humiliation of my position in regard to Fräulein +Wundermacher,—all, all had been in vain. No sun shone there, and nothing grew. +The gardener who reigned supreme in those days had given me this big piece for +that sole reason, because he could do nothing with it himself. He was no doubt +of opinion that it was quite good enough for a child to experiment upon, and +went his way, when I had thanked him with a profuseness of gratitude I still +remember, with an unmoved countenance. For more than a year I worked and +waited, and watched the career of the flourishing orchard opposite with puzzled +feelings. The orchard was only a few yards away, and yet, although my garden +was full of manure, and water, and attentions that were never bestowed on the +orchard, all it could show and ever did show were a few unhappy beginnings of +growth that either remained stationary and did not achieve flowers, or dwindled +down again and vanished. Once I timidly asked the gardener if he could explain +these signs and wonders, but he was a busy man with no time for answering +questions, and told me shortly that gardening was not learned in a day. How +well I remember that afternoon, and the very shape of the lazy clouds, and the +smell of spring things, and myself going away abashed and sitting on the shaky +bench in my domain and wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made +the difference between my bit and the bit of orchard in front of me. The fruit +trees, far enough away from the wall to be beyond the reach of its cold shade, +were tossing their flower-laden heads in the sunshine in a carelessly +well-satisfied fashion that filled my heart with envy. There was a rise in the +field behind them, and at the foot of its protecting slope they luxuriated in +the insolent glory of their white and pink perfection. It was May, and my heart +bled at the thought of the tulips I had put in in November, and that I had +never seen since. The whole of the rest of the garden was on fire with tulips; +behind me, on the other side of the wall, were rows and rows of them,—cups of +translucent loveliness, a jewelled ring flung right round the lawn. But what +was there not on the other side of that wall? Things came up there and grew and +flowered exactly as my gardening books said they should do; and in front of me, +in the gay orchard, things that nobody ever troubled about or cultivated or +noticed throve joyously beneath the trees,—daffodils thrusting their spears +through the grass, crocuses peeping out inquiringly, snowdrops uncovering their +small cold faces when the first shivering spring days came. Only my piece that +I so loved was perpetually ugly and empty. And I sat in it thinking of these +things on that radiant day, and wept aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Then an apprentice came by, a youth who had often seen me busily digging, and +noticing the unusual tears, and struck perhaps by the difference between my +garden and the profusion of splendour all around, paused with his barrow on the +path in front of me, and remarked that nobody could expect to get blood out of +a stone. The apparent irrelevance of this statement made me weep still louder, +the bitter tears of insulted sorrow; but he stuck to his point, and harangued +me from the path, explaining the connection between north walls and tulips and +blood and stones till my tears all dried up again and I listened attentively, +for the conclusion to be drawn from his remarks was plainly that I had been +shamefully taken in by the head gardener, who was an unprincipled person +thenceforward to be for ever mistrusted and shunned. Standing on the path from +which the kindly apprentice had expounded his proverb, this scene rose before +me as clearly as though it had taken place that very day; but how different +everything looked, and how it had shrunk! Was this the wide orchard that had +seemed to stretch away, it and the sloping field beyond, up to the gates of +heaven? I believe nearly every child who is much alone goes through a certain +time of hourly expecting the Day of Judgment, and I had made up my mind that on +that Day the heavenly host would enter the world by that very field, coming +down the slope in shining ranks, treading the daffodils under foot, filling the +orchard with their songs of exultation, joyously seeking out the sheep from +among the goats. Of course I was a sheep, and my governess and the head +gardener goats, so that the results could not fail to be in every way +satisfactory. But looking up at the slope and remembering my visions, I laughed +at the smallness of the field I had supposed would hold all heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Here again the cousins had been at work. The site of my garden was occupied by +a rockery, and the orchard grass with all its treasures had been dug up, and +the spaces between the trees planted with currant bushes and celery in +admirable rows; so that no future little cousins will be able to dream of +celestial hosts coming towards them across the fields of daffodils, and will +perhaps be the better for being free from visions of the kind, for as I grew +older, uncomfortable doubts laid hold of my heart with cold fingers, dim +uncertainties as to the exact ultimate position of the gardener and the +governess, anxious questionings as to how it would be if it were they who +turned out after all to be sheep, and I who—? For that we all three might be +gathered into the same fold at the last never, in those days, struck me as +possible, and if it had I should not have liked it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what sort of person can that be,” I asked myself, shaking my head, as I +contemplated the changes before me, “who could put a rockery among vegetables +and currant bushes? A rockery, of all things in the gardening world, needs +consummate tact in its treatment. It is easier to make mistakes in forming a +rockery than in any other garden scheme. Either it is a great success, or it is +great failure; either it is very charming, or it is very absurd. There is no +state between the sublime and the ridiculous possible in a rockery.” I stood +shaking my head disapprovingly at the rockery before me, lost in these +reflections, when a sudden quick pattering of feet coming along in a great +hurry made me turn round with a start, just in time to receive the shock of a +body tumbling out of the mist and knocking violently against me. +</p> + +<p> +It was a little girl of about twelve years old. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” said the little girl in excellent English; and then we stared at each +other in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were Miss Robinson,” said the little girl, offering no apology +for having nearly knocked me down. “Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Robinson? Miss Robinson?” I repeated, my eyes fixed on the little girl’s +face, and a host of memories stirring within me. “Why, didn’t she marry a +missionary, and go out to some place where they ate him?” +</p> + +<p> +The little girl stared harder. “Ate him? Marry? What, has she been married all +this time to somebody who’s been eaten and never let on? Oh, I say, what a +game!” And she threw back her head and laughed till the garden rang again. +</p> + +<p> +“O hush, you dreadful little girl!” I implored, catching her by the arm, and +terrified beyond measure by the loudness of her mirth. “Don’t make that horrid +noise—we are certain to be caught if you don’t stop——” +</p> + +<p> +The little girl broke off a shriek of laughter in the middle and shut her mouth +with a snap. Her eyes, round and black and shiny like boot buttons, came still +further out of her head. “Caught?” she said eagerly. “What, are you afraid of +being caught too? Well, this <i>is</i> a game!” And with her hands plunged deep +in the pockets of her coat she capered in front of me in the excess of her +enjoyment, reminding me of a very fat black lamb frisking round the dazed and +passive sheep its mother. +</p> + +<p> +It was clear that the time had come for me to get down to the gate at the end +of the garden as quickly as possible, and I began to move away in that +direction. The little girl at once stopped capering and planted herself +squarely in front of me. “Who are you?” she said, examining me from my hat to +my boots with the keenest interest. +</p> + +<p> +I considered this ungarnished manner of asking questions impertinent, and, +trying to look lofty, made an attempt to pass at the side. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl, with a quick, cork-like movement, was there before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” she repeated, her expression friendly but firm. “Oh, I—I’m a +pilgrim,” I said in desperation. +</p> + +<p> +“A pilgrim!” echoed the little girl. She seemed struck, and while she was +struck I slipped past her and began to walk quickly towards the door in the +wall. “A pilgrim!” said the little girl, again, keeping close beside me, and +looking me up and down attentively. “I don’t like pilgrims. Aren’t they people +who are always walking about, and have things the matter with their feet? Have +you got anything the matter with your feet?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” I replied indignantly, walking still faster. +</p> + +<p> +“And they never wash, Miss Robinson says. You don’t either, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not wash? Oh, I’m afraid you are a very badly brought-up little girl—oh, leave +me alone—I must run—” +</p> + +<p> +“So must I,” said the little girl, cheerfully, “for Miss Robinson must be close +behind us. She nearly had me just before I found you.” And she started running +by my side. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of Miss Robinson close behind us gave wings to my feet, and, +casting my dignity, of which, indeed, there was but little left, to the winds, +I fairly flew down the path. The little girl was not to be outrun, and though +she panted and turned weird colours, kept by my side and even talked. Oh, I was +tired, tired in body and mind, tired by the different shocks I had received, +tired by the journey, tired by the want of food; and here I was being forced to +run because this very naughty little girl chose to hide instead of going in to +her lessons. +</p> + +<p> +“I say—this is jolly—” she jerked out. +</p> + +<p> +“But why need we run to the same place?” I breathlessly asked, in the vain hope +of getting rid of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes—that’s just—the fun. We’d get on—together—you and I—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said I, decided on this point, bewildered though I was. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t stand washing—either—it’s awful—in winter—and makes one have—chaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t mind it in the least,” I protested faintly, not having any energy +left. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say!” said the little girl, looking at my face, and making the sound +known as a guffaw. The familiarity of this little girl was wholly revolting. +</p> + +<p> +We had got safely through the door, round the corner past the radishes, and +were in the shrubbery. I knew from experience how easy it was to hide in the +tangle of little paths, and stopped a moment to look round and listen. The +little girl opened her mouth to speak. With great presence of mind I instantly +put my muff in front of it and held it there tight, while I listened. Dead +silence, except for the laboured breathing and struggles of the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t hear a sound,” I whispered, letting her go again. “Now what did you +want to say?” I added, eyeing her severely. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to say,” she panted, “that it’s no good pretending you wash with a +nose like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“A nose like that! A nose like what?” I exclaimed, greatly offended; and though +I put up my hand and very tenderly and carefully felt it, I could find no +difference in it. “I am afraid poor Miss Robinson must have a wretched life,” I +said, in tones of deep disgust. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl smiled fatuously, as though I were paying her compliments. +“It’s all green and brown,” she said, pointing. “Is it always like that?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered the wet fir tree near the gate, and the enraptured kiss it +had received, and blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t it come off?” persisted the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it will come off,” I answered, frowning. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you rub it off?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered the throwing away of the handkerchief, and blushed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Please lend me your handkerchief,” I said humbly, “I—I have lost mine.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a great fumbling in six different pockets, and then a handkerchief +that made me young again merely to look at it was produced. I took it +thankfully and rubbed with energy, the little girl, intensely interested, +watching the operation and giving me advice. “There—it’s all right now—a little +more on the right—there—now it’s all off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure? No green left?” I anxiously asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s red all over now,” she replied cheerfully. “Let me get home,” thought +I, very much upset by this information, “let me get home to my dear, +uncritical, admiring babies, who accept my nose as an example of what a nose +should be, and whatever its colour think it beautiful.” And thrusting the +handkerchief back into the little girl’s hands, I hurried away down the path. +She packed it away hastily, but it took some seconds for it was of the size of +a small sheet, and then came running after me. “Where are you going?” she asked +surprised, as I turned down the path leading to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Through this gate,” I replied with decision. +</p> + +<p> +“But you mustn’t—we’re not allowed to go through there——” +</p> + +<p> +So strong was the force of old habits in that place that at the words <i>not +allowed</i> my hand dropped of itself from the latch; and at that instant a +voice calling quite close to us through the mist struck me rigid. +</p> + +<p> +“Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” called the voice, “Come in at once to your +lessons—Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Miss Robinson,” whispered the little girl, twinkling with excitement; +then, catching sight of my face, she said once more with eager insistence, “Who +are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m a ghost!” I cried with conviction, pressing my hands to my forehead +and looking round fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh,” said the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +It was the last remark I heard her make, for there was a creaking of +approaching boots in the bushes, and seized by a frightful panic I pulled the +gate open with one desperate pull, flung it to behind me, and fled out and away +down the wide, misty fields. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Gotha Almanach</i> says that the reigning cousin married the daughter of +a Mr. Johnstone, an Englishman, in 1885, and that in 1886 their only child was +born, Elizabeth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>November</i> 20<i>th</i>.—Last night we had ten degrees of frost +(Fahrenheit), and I went out the first thing this morning to see what had +become of the tea-roses, and behold, they were wide awake and quite +cheerful—covered with rime it is true, but anything but black and shrivelled. +Even those in boxes on each side of the verandah steps were perfectly alive and +full of buds, and one in particular, a Bouquet d’Or, is a mass of buds, and +would flower if it could get the least encouragement. I am beginning to think +that the tenderness of tea-roses is much exaggerated, and am certainly very +glad I had the courage to try them in this northern garden. But I must not fly +too boldly in the face of Providence, and have ordered those in the boxes to be +taken into the greenhouse for the winter, and hope the Bouquet d’Or, in a sunny +place near the glass, may be induced to open some of those buds. The greenhouse +is only used as a refuge, and kept at a temperature just above freezing, and is +reserved entirely for such plants as cannot stand the very coldest part of the +winter out of doors. I don’t use it for growing anything, because I don’t love +things that will only bear the garden for three or four months in the year and +require coaxing and petting for the rest of it. Give me a garden full of +strong, healthy creatures, able to stand roughness and cold without dismally +giving in and dying. I never could see that delicacy of constitution is pretty, +either in plants or women. No doubt there are many lovely flowers to be had by +heat and constant coaxing, but then for each of these there are fifty others +still lovelier that will gratefully grow in God’s wholesome air and are blessed +in return with a far greater intensity of scent and colour. +</p> + +<p> +We have been very busy till now getting the permanent beds into order and +planting the new tea-roses, and I am looking forward to next summer with more +hope than ever in spite of my many failures. I wish the years would pass +quickly that will bring my garden to perfection! The Persian Yellows have gone +into their new quarters, and their place is occupied by the tea-rose Safrano; +all the rose beds are carpeted with pansies sown in July and transplanted in +October, each bed having a separate colour. The purple ones are the most +charming and go well with every rose, but I have white ones with Laurette +Messimy, and yellow ones with Safrano, and a new red sort in the big centre bed +of red roses. Round the semicircle on the south side of the little privet hedge +two rows of annual larkspurs in all their delicate shades have been sown, and +just beyond the larkspurs, on the grass, is a semicircle of standard tea and +pillar roses. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the house the long borders have been stocked with larkspurs, annual +and perennial, columbines, giant poppies, pinks, Madonna lilies, wallflowers, +hollyhocks, perennial phloxes, peonies, lavender, starworts, cornflowers, +Lychnis chalcedonica, and bulbs packed in wherever bulbs could go. These are +the borders that were so hardly used by the other gardener. The spring boxes +for the verandah steps have been filled with pink and white and yellow tulips. +I love tulips better than any other spring flower; they are the embodiment of +alert cheerfulness and tidy grace, and next to a hyacinth look like a +wholesome, freshly tubbed young girl beside a stout lady whose every movement +weighs down the air with patchouli. Their faint, delicate scent is refinement +itself; and is there anything in the world more charming than the sprightly way +they hold up their little faces to the sun? I have heard them called bold and +flaunting, but to me they seem modest grace itself, only always on the alert to +enjoy life as much as they can and not afraid of looking the sun or anything +else above them in the face. On the grass there are two beds of them carpeted +with forget-me-nots; and in the grass, in scattered groups, are daffodils and +narcissus. Down the wilder shrubbery walks foxgloves and mulleins will (I hope) +shine majestic; and one cool corner, backed by a group of firs, is graced by +Madonna lilies, white foxgloves, and columbines. +</p> + +<p> +In a distant glade I have made a spring garden round an oak tree that stands +alone in the sun—groups of crocuses, daffodils, narcissus, hyacinths, and +tulips, among such flowering shrubs and trees as Pirus Malus spectabilis, +floribunda, and coronaria; Prunus Juliana, Mahaleb, serotina, triloba, and +Pissardi; Cydonias and Weigelias in every colour, and several kinds of Cratægus +and other May lovelinesses. If the weather behaves itself nicely, and we get +gentle rains in due season, I think this little corner will be beautiful—but +what a big “if” it is! Drought is our great enemy, and the two last summers +each contained five weeks of blazing, cloudless heat when all the ditches dried +up and the soil was like hot pastry. At such times the watering is naturally +quite beyond the strength of two men; but as a garden is a place to be happy +in, and not one where you want to meet a dozen curious eyes at every turn, I +should not like to have more than these two, or rather one and a half—the +assistant having stork-like proclivities and going home in the autumn to his +native Russia, returning in the spring with the first warm winds. I want to +keep him over the winter, as there is much to be done even then, and I sounded +him on the point the other day. He is the most abject-looking of human +beings—lame, and afflicted with a hideous eye-disease; but he is a good worker +and plods along unwearyingly from sunrise to dusk. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, my good stork,” said I, or German words to that effect, “why don’t you +stay here altogether, instead of going home and rioting away all you have +earned?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would stay,” he answered, “but I have my wife there in Russia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your wife!” I exclaimed, stupidly surprised that the poor deformed creature +should have found a mate—as though there were not a superfluity of mates in the +world—“I didn’t know you were married?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I have two little children, and I don’t know what they would do if I +were not to come home. But it is a very expensive journey to Russia, and costs +me every time seven marks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven marks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is a great sum.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered whether I should be able to get to Russia for seven marks, supposing +I were to be seized with an unnatural craving to go there. +</p> + +<p> +All the labourers who work here from March to December are Russians and Poles, +or a mixture of both. We send a man over who can speak their language, to fetch +as many as he can early in the year, and they arrive with their bundles, men +and women and babies, and as soon as they have got here and had their fares +paid, they disappear in the night if they get the chance, sometimes fifty of +them at a time, to go and work singly or in couples for the peasants, who pay +them a <i>pfenning</i> or two more a day than we do, and let them eat with the +family. From us they get a mark and a half to two marks a day, and as many +potatoes as they can eat. The women get less, not because they work less, but +because they are women and must not be encouraged. The overseer lives with +them, and has a loaded revolver in his pocket and a savage dog at his heels. +For the first week or two after their arrival, the foresters and other +permanent officials keep guard at night over the houses they are put into. I +suppose they find it sleepy work; for certain it is that spring after spring +the same thing happens, fifty of them getting away in spite of all our +precautions, and we are left with our mouths open and much out of pocket. This +spring, by some mistake, they arrived without their bundles, which had gone +astray on the road, and, as they travel in their best clothes, they refused +utterly to work until their luggage came. Nearly a week was lost waiting, to +the despair of all in authority. +</p> + +<p> +Nor will any persuasions induce them to do anything on Saints’ days, and there +surely never was a church so full of them as the Russian Church. In the spring, +when every hour is of vital importance, the work is constantly being +interrupted by them, and the workers lie sleeping in the sun the whole day, +agreeably conscious that they are pleasing themselves and the Church at one and +the same time—a state of perfection as rare as it is desirable. Reason unaided +by Faith is of course exasperated at this waste of precious time, and I confess +that during the first mild days after the long winter frost when it is possible +to begin to work the ground, I have sympathised with the gloom of the Man of +Wrath, confronted in one week by two or three empty days on which no man will +labour, and have listened in silence to his remarks about distant Russian +saints. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose it was my own superfluous amount of civilisation that made me pity +these people when first I came to live among them. They herd together like +animals and do the work of animals; but in spite of the armed overseer, the +dirt and the rags, the meals of potatoes washed down by weak vinegar and water, +I am beginning to believe that they would strongly object to soap, I am sure +they would not wear new clothes, and I hear them coming home from their work at +dusk singing. They are like little children or animals in their utter inability +to grasp the idea of a future; and after all, if you work all day in God’s +sunshine, when evening comes you are pleasantly tired and ready for rest and +not much inclined to find fault with your lot. I have not yet persuaded myself, +however, that the women are happy. They have to work as hard as the men and get +less for it; they have to produce offspring, quite regardless of times and +seasons and the general fitness of things; they have to do this as +expeditiously as possible, so that they may not unduly interrupt the work in +hand; nobody helps them, notices them, or cares about them, least of all the +husband. It is quite a usual thing to see them working in the fields in the +morning, and working again in the afternoon, having in the interval produced a +baby. The baby is left to an old woman whose duty it is to look after babies +collectively. When I expressed my horror at the poor creatures working +immediately afterwards as though nothing had happened, the Man of Wrath +informed me that they did not suffer because they had never worn corsets, nor +had their mothers and grandmothers. We were riding together at the time, and +had just passed a batch of workers, and my husband was speaking to the +overseer, when a woman arrived alone, and taking up a spade, began to dig. She +grinned cheerfully at us as she made a curtesy, and the overseer remarked that +she had just been back to the house and had a baby. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor, <i>poor</i> woman!” I cried, as we rode on, feeling for some occult +reason very angry with the Man of Wrath. “And her wretched husband doesn’t care +a rap, and will probably beat her to-night if his supper isn’t right. What +nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes when the women have the +babies!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, my dear,” replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. “You +have got to the very root of the matter. Nature, while imposing this agreeable +duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any serious competition +with man. How can a person who is constantly losing a year of the best part of +her life compete with a young man who never loses any time at all? He has the +brute force, and his last word on any subject could always be his fist.” +</p> + +<p> +I said nothing. It was a dull, gray afternoon in the beginning of November, and +the leaves dropped slowly and silently at our horses’ feet as we rode towards +the Hirschwald. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a universal custom,” proceeded the Man of Wrath, “amongst these +Russians, and I believe amongst the lower classes everywhere, and certainly +commendable on the score of simplicity, to silence a woman’s objections and +aspirations by knocking her down. I have heard it said that this apparently +brutal action has anything but the maddening effect tenderly nurtured persons +might suppose, and that the patient is soothed and satisfied with a rapidity +and completeness unattainable by other and more polite methods. Do you +suppose,” he went on, flicking a twig off a tree with his whip as we passed, +“that the intellectual husband, wrestling intellectually with the chaotic +yearnings of his intellectual wife, ever achieves the result aimed at? He may +and does go on wrestling till he is tired, but never does he in the very least +convince her of her folly; while his brother in the ragged coat has got through +the whole business in less time than it takes me to speak about it. There is no +doubt that these poor women fulfil their vocation far more thoroughly than the +women in our class, and, as the truest: happiness consists in finding one’s +vocation quickly and continuing in it all one’s days, I consider they are to be +envied rather than not, since they are early taught, by the impossibility of +argument with marital muscle, the impotence of female endeavour and the +blessings of content.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray go on,” I said politely. +</p> + +<p> +“These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all praise, and +far from considering themselves insulted, admire the strength and energy of the +man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. In Russia, not only <i>may</i> a +man beat his wife, but it is laid down in the catechism and taught all boys at +the time of confirmation as necessary at least once a week, whether she has +done anything or not, for the sake of her general health and happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat over these +castigations. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, my dear man,” I said, pointing with my whip, “look at that baby moon so +innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind that silver +birch; and don’t talk so much about women and things you don’t understand. What +is the use of your bothering about fists and whips and muscles and all the +dreadful things invented for the confusion of obstreperous wives? You know you +are a civilised husband, and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased +to be a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a civilised wife?” he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me and +putting his arm round my waist, “has she ceased to be a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think so indeed,—she is a goddess, and can never be worshipped and +adored enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” he said, “that the conversation is growing personal.” +</p> + +<p> +I started off at a canter across the short, springy turf. The Hirschwald is an +enchanted place on such an evening, when the mists lie low on the turf, and +overhead the delicate, bare branches of the silver birches stand out clear +against the soft sky, while the little moon looks down kindly on the damp +November world. Where the trees thicken into a wood, the fragrance of the wet +earth and rotting leaves kicked up by the horses’ hoofs fills my soul with +delight. I particularly love that smell,—it brings before me the entire +benevolence of Nature, for ever working death and decay, so piteous in +themselves, into the means of fresh life and glory, and sending up sweet odours +as she works. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 7<i>th</i>.—I have been to England. I went for at least a month +and stayed a week in a fog and was blown home again in a gale. Twice I fled +before the fogs into the country to see friends with gardens, but it was +raining, and except the beautiful lawns (not to be had in the Fatherland) and +the infinite possibilities, there was nothing to interest the intelligent and +garden-loving foreigner, for the good reason that you cannot be interested in +gardens under an umbrella. So I went back to the fogs, and after groping about +for a few days more began to long inordinately for Germany. A terrific gale +sprang up after I had started, and the journey both by sea and land was full of +horrors, the trains in Germany being heated to such an extent that it is next +to impossible to sit still, great gusts of hot air coming up under the +cushions, the cushions themselves being very hot, and the wretched traveller +still hotter. +</p> + +<p> +But when I reached my home and got out of the train into the purest, brightest +snow-atmosphere, the air so still that the whole world seemed to be listening, +the sky cloudless, the crisp snow sparkling underfoot and on the trees, and a +happy row of three beaming babies awaiting me, I was consoled for all my +torments, only remembering them enough to wonder why I had gone away at all. +</p> + +<p> +The babies each had a kitten in one hand and an elegant bouquet of pine needles +and grass in the other, and what with the due presentation of the bouquets and +the struggles of the kittens, the hugging and kissing was much interfered with. +Kittens, bouquets, and babies were all somehow squeezed into the sleigh, and +off we went with jingling bells and shrieks of delight. “Directly you comes +home the fun begins,” said the May baby, sitting very close to me. “How the +snow purrs!” cried the April baby, as the horses scrunched it up with their +feet. The June baby sat loudly singing “The King of Love my Shepherd is,” and +swinging her kitten round by its tail to emphasise the rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +The house, half-buried in the snow, looked the very abode of peace, and I ran +through all the rooms, eager to take possession of them again, and feeling as +though I had been away for ever. When I got to the library I came to a +standstill,—ah, the dear room, what happy times I have spent in it rummaging +amongst the books, making plans for my garden, building castles in the air, +writing, dreaming, doing nothing! There was a big peat fire blazing half up the +chimney, and the old housekeeper had put pots of flowers about, and on the +writing-table was a great bunch of violets scenting the room. “Oh, how +<i>good</i> it is to be home again!” I sighed in my satisfaction. The babies +clung about my knees, looking up at me with eyes full of love. Outside the +dazzling snow and sunshine, inside the bright room and happy faces—I thought of +those yellow fogs and shivered. The library is not used by the Man of Wrath; it +is neutral ground where we meet in the evenings for an hour before he +disappears into his own rooms—a series of very smoky dens in the southeast +corner of the house. It looks, I am afraid, rather too gay for an ideal +library; and its colouring, white and yellow, is so cheerful as to be almost +frivolous. There are white bookcases all round the walls, and there is a great +fireplace, and four windows, facing full south, opening on to my most cherished +bit of garden, the bit round the sun-dial; so that with so much colour and such +a big fire and such floods of sunshine it has anything but a sober air, in +spite of the venerable volumes filling the shelves. Indeed, I should never be +surprised if they skipped down from their places, and, picking up their leaves, +began to dance. +</p> + +<p> +With this room to live in, I can look forward with perfect equanimity to being +snowed up for any time Providence thinks proper; and to go into the garden in +its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. The first breath on +opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes me gasp, and I feel a black +and sinful object in the midst of all the spotlessness. Yesterday I sat out of +doors near the sun-dial the whole afternoon, with the thermometer so many +degrees below freezing that it will be weeks finding its way up again; but +there was no wind, and beautiful sunshine, and I was well wrapped up in furs. I +even had tea brought out there, to the astonishment of the menials, and sat +till long after the sun had set, enjoying the frosty air. I had to drink the +tea very quickly, for it showed a strong inclination to begin to freeze. After +the sun had gone down the rooks came home to their nests in the garden with a +great fuss and fluttering, and many hesitations and squabbles before they +settled on their respective trees. They flew over my head in hundreds with a +mighty swish of wings, and when they had arranged themselves comfortably, an +intense hush fell upon the garden, and the house began to look like a Christmas +card, with its white roof against the clear, pale green of the western sky, and +lamplight shining in the windows. +</p> + +<p> +I had been reading a Life of Luther, lent me by our parson, in the intervals +between looking round me and being happy. He came one day with the book and +begged me to read it, having discovered that my interest in Luther was not as +living as it ought to be; so I took it out with me into the garden, because the +dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as +bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under +a tree. I read Luther all the afternoon with pauses for refreshing glances at +the garden and the sky, and much thankfulness in my heart. His struggles with +devils amazed me; and I wondered whether such a day as that, full of grace and +the forgiveness of sins, never struck him as something to make him relent even +towards devils. He apparently never allowed himself just to be happy. He was a +wonderful man, but I am glad I was not his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Our parson is an interesting person, and untiring in his efforts to improve +himself. Both he and his wife study whenever they have a spare moment, and +there is a tradition that she stirs her puddings with one hand and holds a +Latin grammar in the other, the grammar, of course, getting the greater share +of her attention. To most German <i>Hausfraus</i> the dinners and the puddings +are of paramount importance, and they pride themselves on keeping those parts +of their houses that are seen in a state of perpetual and spotless perfection, +and this is exceedingly praiseworthy; but, I would humbly inquire, are there +not other things even more important? And is not plain living and high thinking +better than the other way about? And all too careful making of dinners and +dusting of furniture takes a terrible amount of precious time, and—and with +shame I confess that my sympathies are all with the pudding and the grammar. It +cannot be right to be the slave of one’s household gods, and I protest that if +my furniture ever annoyed me by wanting to be dusted when I wanted to be doing +something else, and there was no one to do the dusting for me, I would cast it +all into the nearest bonfire and sit and warm my toes at the flames with great +contentment, triumphantly selling my dusters to the very next pedlar who was +weak enough to buy them. Parsons’ wives have to do the housework and cooking +themselves, and are thus not only cooks and housemaids, but if they have +children—and they always do have children—they are head and under nurse as +well; and besides these trifling duties have a good deal to do with their fruit +and vegetable garden, and everything to do with their poultry. This being so, +is it not pathetic to find a young woman bravely struggling to learn languages +and keep up with her husband? If I were that husband, those puddings would +taste sweetest to me that were served with Latin sauce. They are both severely +pious, and are for ever engaged in desperate efforts to practise what they +preach; than which, as we all know, nothing is more difficult. He works in his +parish with the most noble self-devotion, and never loses courage, although his +efforts have been several times rewarded by disgusting libels pasted up on the +street-corners, thrown under doors, and even fastened to his own garden wall. +The peasant hereabouts is past belief low and animal, and a sensitive, +intellectual parson among them is really a pearl before swine. For years he has +gone on unflinchingly, filled with the most living faith and hope and charity, +and I sometimes wonder whether they are any better now in his parish than they +were under his predecessor, a man who smoked and drank beer from Monday morning +to Saturday night, never did a stroke of work, and often kept the scanty +congregation waiting on Sunday afternoons while he finished his postprandial +nap. It is discouraging enough to make most men give in, and leave the parish +to get to heaven or not as it pleases; but he never seems discouraged, and goes +on sacrificing the best part of his life to these people when all his tastes +are literary, and all his inclinations towards the life of the student. His +convictions drag him out of his little home at all hours to minister to the +sick and exhort the wicked; they give him no rest, and never let him feel he +has done enough; and when he comes home weary, after a day’s wrestling with his +parishioners’ souls, he is confronted on his doorstep by filthy abuse pasted up +on his own front door. He never speaks of these things, but how shall they be +hid? Everybody here knows everything that happens before the day is over, and +what we have for dinner is of far greater general interest than the most +astounding political earthquake. They have a pretty, roomy cottage, and a good +bit of ground adjoining the churchyard. His predecessor used to hang out his +washing on the tombstones to dry, but then he was a person entirely lost to all +sense of decency, and had finally to be removed, preaching a farewell sermon of +a most vituperative description, and hurling invective at the Man of Wrath, who +sat up in his box drinking in every word and enjoying himself thoroughly. The +Man of Wrath likes novelty, and such a sermon had never been heard before. It +is spoken of in the village to this day with bated breath and awful joy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 22<i>nd</i>.—Up to now we have had a beautiful winter. Clear +skies, frost, little wind, and, except for a sharp touch now and then, very few +really cold days. My windows are gay with hyacinths and lilies of the valley; +and though, as I have said, I don’t admire the smell of hyacinths in the spring +when it seems wanting in youth and chastity next to that of other flowers, I am +glad enough now to bury my nose in their heavy sweetness. In December one +cannot afford to be fastidious; besides, one is actually less fastidious about +everything in the winter. The keen air braces soul as well as body into +robustness, and the food and the perfume disliked in the summer are perfectly +welcome then. +</p> + +<p> +I am very busy preparing for Christmas, but have often locked myself up in a +room alone, shutting out my unfinished duties, to study the flower catalogues +and make my lists of seeds and shrubs and trees for the spring. It is a +fascinating occupation, and acquires an additional charm when you know you +ought to be doing something else, that Christmas is at the door, that children +and servants and farm hands depend on you for their pleasure, and that, if you +don’t see to the decoration of the trees and house, and the buying of the +presents, nobody else will. The hours fly by shut up with those catalogues and +with Duty snarling on the other side of the door. I don’t like Duty—everything +in the least disagreeable is always sure to be one’s duty. Why cannot it be my +duty to make lists and plans for the dear garden? “And so it <i>is</i>,” I +insisted to the Man of Wrath, when he protested against what he called wasting +my time upstairs. “No,” he replied sagely; “your garden is not your duty, +because it is your Pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +What a comfort it is to have such wells of wisdom constantly at my disposal! +Anybody can have a husband, but to few is it given to have a sage, and the +combination of both is as rare as it is useful. Indeed, in its practical +utility the only thing I ever saw to equal it is a sofa my neighbour has bought +as a Christmas surprise for her husband, and which she showed me the last time +I called there—a beautiful invention, as she explained, combining a bedstead, a +sofa, and a chest of drawers, and into which you put your clothes, and on top +of which you put yourself, and if anybody calls in the middle of the night and +you happen to be using the drawing-room as a bedroom, you just pop the +bedclothes inside, and there you are discovered sitting on your sofa and +looking for all the world as though you had been expecting visitors for hours. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, does he wear pyjamas?” I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +But she had never heard of pyjamas. +</p> + +<p> +It takes a long time to make my spring lists. I want to have a border all +yellow, every shade of yellow from fieriest orange to nearly white, and the +amount of work and studying of gardening books it costs me will only be +appreciated by beginners like myself. I have been weeks planning it, and it is +not nearly finished. I want it to be a succession of glories from May till the +frosts, and the chief feature is to be the number of “ardent marigolds”—flowers +that I very tenderly love—and nasturtiums. The nasturtiums are to be of every +sort and shade, and are to climb and creep and grow in bushes, and show their +lovely flowers and leaves to the best advantage. Then there are to be +eschscholtzias, dahlias, sunflowers, zinnias, scabiosa, portulaca, yellow +violas, yellow stocks, yellow sweet-peas, yellow lupins—everything that is +yellow or that has a yellow variety. The place I have chosen for it is a long, +wide border in the sun, at the foot of a grassy slope crowned with lilacs and +pines, and facing southeast. You go through a little pine wood, and, turning a +corner, are to come suddenly upon this bit of captured morning glory. I want it +to be blinding in its brightness after the dark, cool path through the wood. +</p> + +<p> +That is the idea. Depression seizes me when I reflect upon the probable +difference between the idea and its realisation. I am ignorant, and the +gardener is, I do believe, still more so; for he was forcing some tulips, and +they have all shrivelled up and died, and he says he cannot imagine why. +Besides, he is in love with the cook, and is going to marry her after +Christmas, and refuses to enter into any of my plans with the enthusiasm they +deserve, but sits with vacant eye dreamily chopping wood from morning till +night to keep the beloved one’s kitchen fire well supplied. I cannot understand +any one preferring cooks to marigolds; those future marigolds, shadowy as they +are, and whose seeds are still sleeping at the seedsman’s, have shone through +my winter days like golden lamps. +</p> + +<p> +I wish with all my heart I were a man, for of course the first thing I should +do would be to buy a spade and go and garden, and then I should have the +delight of doing everything for my flowers with my own hands and need not waste +time explaining what I want done to somebody else. It is dull work giving +orders and trying to describe the bright visions of one’s brain to a person who +has no visions and no brain, and who thinks a yellow bed should be calceolarias +edged with blue. +</p> + +<p> +I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those humble +ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my soil is by no +means all that it might be, and to most plants the climate is rather trying. I +feel really grateful to any flower that is sturdy and willing enough to +flourish here. Pansies seem to like the place and so do sweet-peas; pinks +don’t, and after much coaxing gave hardly any flowers last summer. Nearly all +the roses were a success, in spite of the sandy soil, except the tea-rose Adam, +which was covered with buds ready to open, when they suddenly turned brown and +died, and three standard Dr. Grills which stood in a row and simply sulked. I +had been very excited about Dr. Grill, his description in the catalogues being +specially fascinating, and no doubt I deserved the snubbing I got. “Never be +excited, my dears, about <i>anything</i>,” shall be the advice I will give the +three babies when the time comes to take them out to parties, “or, if you are, +don’t show it. If by nature you are volcanoes, at least be only smouldering +ones. Don’t look pleased, don’t look interested, don’t, above all things, look +eager. Calm indifference should be written on every feature of your faces. +Never show that you like any one person, or any one thing. Be cool, languid, +and reserved. If you don’t do as your mother tells you and are just gushing, +frisky, young idiots, snubs will be your portion. If you do as she tells you, +you’ll marry princes and live happily ever after.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Grill must be a German rose. In this part of the world the more you are +pleased to see a person the less is he pleased to see you; whereas, if you are +disagreeable, he will grow pleasant visibly, his countenance expanding into +wider amiability the more your own is stiff and sour. But I was not prepared +for that sort of thing in a rose, and was disgusted with Dr. Grill. He had the +best place in the garden—warm, sunny, and sheltered; his holes were prepared +with the tenderest care; he was given the most dainty mixture of compost, clay, +and manure; he was watered assiduously all through the drought when more +willing flowers got nothing; and he refused to do anything but look black and +shrivel. He did not die, but neither did he live—he just existed; and at the +end of the summer not one of him had a scrap more shoot or leaf than when he +was first put in in April. It would have been better if he had died straight +away, for then I should have known what to do; as it is, there he is still +occupying the best place, wrapped up carefully for the winter, excluding kinder +roses, and probably intending to repeat the same conduct next year. Well, +trials are the portion of mankind, and gardeners have their share, and in any +case it is better to be tried by plants than persons, seeing that with plants +you know that it is you who are in the wrong, and with persons it is always the +other way about—and who is there among us who has not felt the pangs of injured +innocence, and known them to be grievous? +</p> + +<p> +I have two visitors staying with me, though I have done nothing to provoke such +an infliction, and had been looking forward to a happy little Christmas alone +with the Man of Wrath and the babies. Fate decreed otherwise. Quite regularly, +if I look forward to anything, Fate steps in and decrees otherwise; I don’t +know why it should, but it does. I had not even invited these good ladies—like +greatness on the modest, they were thrust upon me. One is Irais, the sweet +singer of the summer, whom I love as she deserves, but of whom I certainly +thought I had seen the last for at least a year, when she wrote and asked if I +would have her over Christmas, as her husband was out of sorts, and she didn’t +like him in that state. Neither do I like sick husbands, so, full of sympathy, +I begged her to come, and here she is. And the other is Minora. +</p> + +<p> +Why I have to have Minora I don’t know, for I was not even aware of her +existence a fortnight ago. Then coming down cheerfully one morning to +breakfast—it was the very day after my return from England—I found a letter +from an English friend, who up till then had been perfectly innocuous, asking +me to befriend Minora. I read the letter aloud for the benefit of the Man of +Wrath, who was eating <i>Spickgans</i>, a delicacy much sought after in these +parts. “Do, my dear Elizabeth,” wrote my friend, “take some notice of the poor +thing. She is studying art in Dresden, and has nowhere literally to go for +Christmas. She is very ambitious and hardworking—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” interrupted the Man of Wrath, “she is not pretty. Only ugly girls work +hard.” +</p> + +<p> +“—and she is really very clever—” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like clever girls, they are so stupid,” again interrupted the Man of +Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“—and unless some kind creature like yourself takes pity on her she will be +very lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let her be lonely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her mother is my oldest friend, and would be greatly distressed to think that +her daughter should be alone in a foreign town at such a season.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not mind the distress of the mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear me,” I exclaimed impatiently, “I shall have to ask her to come!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you <i>should</i> be inclined,” the letter went on, “to play the good +Samaritan, dear Elizabeth, I am positive you would find Minora a bright, +intelligent companion—” +</p> + +<p> +“Minora?” questioned the Man of Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +The April baby, who has had a nursery governess of an altogether alarmingly +zealous type attached to her person for the last six weeks, looked up from her +bread and milk. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds like islands,” she remarked pensively. +</p> + +<p> +The governess coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Majora, Minora, Alderney, and Sark,” explained her pupil. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at her severely. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are not careful, April,” I said, “you’ll be a genius when you grow up +and disgrace your parents.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jones looked as though she did not like Germans. I am afraid she despises +us because she thinks we are foreigners—an attitude of mind quite British and +wholly to her credit; but we, on the other hand, regard <i>her</i> as a +foreigner, which, of course, makes things complicated. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I really have to have this strange girl?” I asked, addressing nobody in +particular and not expecting a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You need not have her,” said the Man of Wrath composedly, “but you will. You +will write to-day and cordially invite her, and when she has been here +twenty-four hours you will quarrel with her. I know you, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quarrel! I? With a little art-student?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Jones cast down her eyes. She is perpetually scenting a scene, and is +always ready to bring whole batteries of discretion and tact and good taste to +bear on us, and seems to know we are disputing in an unseemly manner when we +would never dream it ourselves but for the warning of her downcast eyes. I +would take my courage in both hands and ask her to go, for besides this +superfluity of discreet behaviour she is, although only nursery, much too +zealous, and inclined to be always teaching and never playing; but, +unfortunately, the April baby adores her and is sure there never was any one so +beautiful before. She comes every day with fresh accounts of the splendours of +her wardrobe, and feeling descriptions of her umbrellas and hats; and Miss +Jones looks offended and purses up her lips. In common with most governesses, +she has a little dark down on her upper lip, and the April baby appeared one +day at dinner with her own decorated in faithful imitation, having achieved it +after much struggling, with the aid of a lead pencil and unbounded love. Miss +Jones put her in the corner for impertinence. I wonder why governesses are so +unpleasant. The Man of Wrath says it is because they are not married. Without +venturing to differ entirely from the opinion of experience, I would add that +the strain of continually having to set an example must surely be very great. +It is much easier, and often more pleasant, to be a warning than an example, +and governesses are but women, and women are sometimes foolish, and when you +want to be foolish it must be annoying to have to be wise. +</p> + +<p> +Minora and Irais arrived yesterday together; or rather, when the carriage drove +up, Irais got out of it alone, and informed me that there was a strange girl on +a bicycle a little way behind. I sent back the carriage to pick her up, for it +was dusk and the roads are terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“But why do you have strange girls here at all?” asked Irais rather peevishly, +taking off her hat in the library before the fire, and otherwise making herself +very much at home; “I don’t like them. I’m not sure that they’re not worse than +husbands who are out of order. Who is she? She would bicycle from the station, +and is, I am sure, the first woman who has done it. The little boys threw +stones at her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, that only shows the ignorance of the little boys. Never mind her. +Let us have tea in peace before she comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we should be much happier without her,” she grumbled. “Weren’t we happy +enough in the summer, Elizabeth—just you and I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed we were,” I answered heartily, putting my arms round her. The +flame of my affection for Irais burns very brightly on the day of her arrival; +besides, this time I have prudently provided against her sinning with the +salt-cellars by ordering them to be handed round like vegetable dishes. We had +finished tea and she had gone up to her room to dress before Minora and her +bicycle were got here. I hurried out to meet her, feeling sorry for her, +plunged into a circle of strangers at such a very personal season as Christmas. +But she was not very shy; indeed, she was less shy than I was, and lingered in +the hall, giving the servants directions to wipe the snow off the tyres of her +machine before she lent an attentive ear to my welcoming remarks. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t make your man understand me at the station,” she said at last, when +her mind was at rest about her bicycle; “I asked him how far it was, and what +the roads were like, and he only smiled. Is he German? But of course he is—how +odd that he didn’t understand. You speak English very well,—very well indeed, +do you know.” By this time we were in the library, and she stood on the +hearth-rug warming her back while I poured her out some tea. +</p> + +<p> +“What a quaint room,” she remarked, looking round, “and the hall is so curious +too. Very old, isn’t it? There’s a lot of copy here.” +</p> + +<p> +The Man of Wrath, who had been in the hall on her arrival and had come in with +us, began to look about on the carpet. “Copy?” he inquired, “Where’s copy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—material, you know, for a book. I’m just jotting down what strikes me in +your country, and when I have time shall throw it into book form.” She spoke +very loud, as English people always do to foreigners. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” I said breathlessly to Irais, when I had got into her room and shut +the door and Minora was safely in hers, “what do you think—she writes books!” +</p> + +<p> +“What—the bicycling girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—Minora—imagine it!” +</p> + +<p> +We stood and looked at each other with awestruck faces. +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful!” murmured Irais. “I never met a young girl who did that before.” +</p> + +<p> +“She says this place is full of copy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Full of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what you make books with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, this is worse than I expected! A strange girl is always a bore +among good friends, but one can generally manage her. But a girl who writes +books—why, it isn’t respectable! And you can’t snub that sort of people; +they’re unsnubbable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but we’ll try!” I cried, with such heartiness that we both laughed. +</p> + +<p> +The hall and the library struck Minora most; indeed, she lingered so long after +dinner in the hall, which is cold, that the Man of Wrath put on his fur coat by +way of a gentle hint. His hints are always gentle. +</p> + +<p> +She wanted to hear the whole story about the chapel and the nuns and Gustavus +Adolphus, and pulling out a fat note-book began to take down what I said. I at +once relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you’ve only just begun.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t go any further. Won’t you come into the library?” +</p> + +<p> +In the library she again took up her stand before the fire and warmed herself, +and we sat in a row and were cold. She has a wonderfully good profile, which is +irritating. The wind, however, is tempered to the shorn lamb by her eyes being +set too closely together. +</p> + +<p> +Irais lit a cigarette, and leaning back in her chair, contemplated her +critically beneath her long eyelashes. “You are writing a book?” she asked +presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—yes, I suppose I may say that I am. Just my impressions, you know, of +your country. Anything that strikes me as curious or amusing—I jot it down, and +when I have time shall work it up into something, I daresay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not studying painting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I can’t study that for ever. We have an English proverb: ‘Life is +short and Art is long’—too long, I sometimes think—and writing is a great +relaxation when I am tired.” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall you call it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I thought of calling it <i>Journeyings in Germany</i>. It sounds well, and +would be correct. Or <i>Jottings from German Journeyings</i>,—I haven’t quite +decided yet which.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the author of <i>Prowls in Pomerania</i>, you might add,” suggested Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>Drivel from Dresden</i>,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“And <i>Bosh from Berlin</i>,” added Irais. +</p> + +<p> +Minora stared. “I don’t think those two last ones would do,” she said, “because +it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is rather a good title,” +she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her note-book. “I think I’ll just +jot that down.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your book?” +asked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear. +</p> + +<p> +“And have <i>you</i> no suggestions to make, Sage?” asked Irais, turning to the +Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you call him Sage?” cried Minora; “and always in English?” +</p> + +<p> +Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and were afraid +Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her note-book. The Man of +Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded to under his very nose by our +new guest as “him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Husbands are always sages,” said I gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Though sages are not always husbands,” said Irais with equal gravity. “Sages +and husbands—sage and husbands—” she went on musingly, “what does that remind +you of, Miss Minora?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know,—how stupid of me!” cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in mid-air and +her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, “sage and,—why,—yes,—no,—yes, +of course—oh,” disappointedly, “but that’s vulgar—I can’t put it in.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is vulgar?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“She thinks sage and onions is vulgar,” said Irais languidly; “but it isn’t, it +is very good.” She got up and walked to the piano, and, sitting down, began, +after a little wandering over the keys, to sing. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you play?” I asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice.” +</p> + +<p> +I said no more. I know what <i>that</i> sort of playing is. +</p> + +<p> +When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to speak in an +unknown tongue. We stared. “What is the matter with her?” murmured Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought, perhaps,” said Minora in English, “you might prefer to talk German, +and as it is all the same to me what I talk—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pray don’t trouble,” said Irais. “We like airing our English—don’t we, +Elizabeth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want my German to get rusty though,” said Minora; “I shouldn’t like to +forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but isn’t there an English song,” said Irais, twisting round her neck as +she preceded us upstairs, “‘’Tis folly to remember, ’tis wisdom to forget’?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope,” I said hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“What room is she in?” asked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“No. 12.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!—do you believe in ghosts?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What nonsense,” said I; “we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you want +anything, mind you ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if you see anything curious in that room,” called Irais from her bedroom +door, “mind you jot it down.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>December</i> 27<i>th</i>—It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas +as a bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are invited to +over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just cause. As a matter of +fact, it is one of the prettiest and most poetic institutions possible, if +observed in the proper manner, and after having been more or less unpleasant to +everybody for a whole year, it is a blessing to be forced on that one day to be +amiable, and it is certainly delightful to be able to give presents without +being haunted by the conviction that you are spoiling the recipient, and will +suffer for it afterward. Servants are only big children, and are made just as +happy as children by little presents and nice things to eat, and, for days +beforehand, every time the three babies go into the garden they expect to meet +the Christ Child with His arms full of gifts. They firmly believe that it is +thus their presents are brought, and it is such a charming idea that Christmas +would be worth celebrating for its sake alone. +</p> + +<p> +As great secrecy is observed, the preparations devolve entirely on me, and it +is not very easy work, with so many people in our own house and on each of the +farms, and all the children, big and little, expecting their share of +happiness. The library is uninhabitable for several days before and after, as +it is there that we have the trees and presents. All down one side are the +trees, and the other three sides are lined with tables, a separate one for each +person in the house. When the trees are lighted, and stand in their radiance +shining down on the happy faces, I forget all the trouble it has been, and the +number of times I have had to run up and down stairs, and the various aches in +head and feet, and enjoy myself as much as anybody. First the June baby is +ushered in, then the others and ourselves according to age, then the servants, +then come the head inspector and his family, the other inspectors from the +different farms, the mamsells, the bookkeepers and secretaries, and then all +the children, troops and troops of them—the big ones leading the little ones by +the hand and carrying the babies in their arms, and the mothers peeping round +the door. As many as can get in stand in front of the trees, and sing two or +three carols; then they are given their presents, and go off triumphantly, +making room for the next batch. My three babies sang lustily too, whether they +happened to know what was being sung or not. They had on white dresses in +honour of the occasion, and the June baby was even arrayed in a low-necked and +short-sleeved garment, after the manner of Teutonic infants, whatever the state +of the thermometer. Her arms are like miniature prize-fighter’s arms—I never +saw such things; they are the pride and joy of her little nurse, who had tied +them up with blue ribbons, and kept on kissing them. I shall certainly not be +able to take her to balls when she grows up, if she goes on having arms like +that. +</p> + +<p> +When they came to say good-night, they were all very pale and subdued. The +April baby had an exhausted-looking Japanese doll with her, which she said she +was taking to bed, not because she liked him, but because she was so sorry for +him, he seemed so very tired. They kissed me absently, and went away, only the +April baby glancing at the trees as she passed and making them a curtesy. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, trees,” I heard her say; and then she made the Japanese doll bow to +them, which he did, in a very languid and blasé fashion. “<i>You’ll</i> never +see such trees again,” she told him, giving him a vindictive shake, “for you’ll +be brokened <i>long</i> before next time.” +</p> + +<p> +She went out, but came back as though she had forgotten something. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank the <i>Christkind</i> so <i>much</i>, Mummy, won’t you, for all the +lovely things He brought us. I suppose you’re writing to Him now, isn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +I cannot see that there was anything gross about our Christmas, and we were +perfectly merry without any need to pretend, and for at least two days it +brought us a little nearer together, and made us kind. Happiness is so +wholesome; it invigorates and warms me into piety far more effectually than any +amount of trials and griefs, and an unexpected pleasure is the surest means of +bringing me to my knees. In spite of the protestations of some peculiarly +constructed persons that they are the better for trials, I don’t believe it. +Such things must sour us, just as happiness must sweeten us, and make us +kinder, and more gentle. And will anybody affirm that it behoves us to be more +thankful for trials than for blessings? We were meant to be happy, and to +accept all the happiness offered with thankfulness—indeed, we are none of us +ever thankful enough, and yet we each get so much, so very much, more than we +deserve. I know a woman—she stayed with me last summer—who rejoices grimly when +those she loves suffer. She believes that it is our lot, and that it braces us +and does us good, and she would shield no one from even unnecessary pain; she +weeps with the sufferer, but is convinced it is all for the best. Well, let her +continue in her dreary beliefs; she has no garden to teach her the beauty and +the happiness of holiness, nor does she in the least desire to possess one; her +convictions have the sad gray colouring of the dingy streets and houses she +lives amongst—the sad colour of humanity in masses. Submission to what people +call their “lot” is simply ignoble. If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, +get rid of it and take another; strike out for yourself; don’t listen to the +shrieks of your relations, to their gibes or their entreaties; don’t let your +own microscopic set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don’t be afraid +of public opinion in the shape of the neighbour in the next house, when all the +world is before you new and shining, and everything is possible, if you will +only be energetic and independent and seize opportunity by the scruff of the +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“To hear you talk,” said Irais, “no one would ever imagine that you dream away +your days in a garden with a book, and that you never in your life seized +anything by the scruff of its neck. And what is scruff? I hope I have not got +any on me.” And she craned her neck before the glass. +</p> + +<p> +She and Minora were going to help me decorate the trees, but very soon Irais +wandered off to the piano, and Minora was tired and took up a book; so I called +in Miss Jones and the babies—it was Miss Jones’s last public appearance, as I +shall relate—and after working for the best part of two days they were +finished, and looked like lovely ladies in widespreading, sparkling petticoats, +holding up their skirts with glittering fingers. Minora wrote a long +description of them for a chapter of her book which is headed <i>Noel</i>,—I +saw that much, because she left it open on the table while she went to talk to +Miss Jones. They were fast friends from the very first, and though it is said +to be natural to take to one’s own countrymen, I am unable altogether to +sympathise with such a reason for sudden affection. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what they talk about?” I said to Irais yesterday, when there was no +getting Minora to come to tea, so deeply was she engaged in conversation with +Miss Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, how can I tell? Lovers, I suppose, or else they think they are +clever, and then they talk rubbish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, Minora thinks she is clever.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose she does. What does it matter what she thinks? Why does your +governess look so gloomy? When I see her at luncheon I always imagine she must +have just heard that somebody is dead. But she can’t hear that every day. What +is the matter with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think she feels quite as proper as she looks,” I said doubtfully; I +was for ever trying to account for Miss Jones’s expression. +</p> + +<p> +“But that must be rather nice,” said Irais. “It would be awful for her if she +felt exactly the same as she looks.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the door leading into the schoolroom opened softly, and the +April baby, tired of playing, came in and sat down at my feet, leaving the door +open; and this is what we heard Miss Jones saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Parents are seldom wise, and the strain the conscientious place upon +themselves to appear so before their children and governess must be terrible. +Nor are clergymen more pious than other men, yet they have continually to pose +before their flock as such. As for governesses, Miss Minora, I know what I am +saying when I affirm that there is nothing more intolerable than to have to be +polite, and even humble, to persons whose weaknesses and follies are glaringly +apparent in every word they utter, and to be forced by the presence of children +and employers to a dignity of manner in no way corresponding to one’s feelings. +The grave father of a family, who was probably one of the least respectable of +bachelors, is an interesting study at his own table, where he is constrained to +assume airs of infallibility merely because his children are looking at him. +The fact of his being a parent does not endow him with any supreme and sudden +virtue; and I can assure you that among the eyes fixed upon him, not the least +critical and amused are those of the humble person who fills the post of +governess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miss Jones, how lovely!” we heard Minora say in accents of rapture, while +we sat transfixed with horror at these sentiments. “Do you mind if I put that +down in my book? You say it all so beautifully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a few hours of relaxation,” continued Miss Jones, “of private +indemnification for the toilsome virtues displayed in public, who could wade +through days of correct behaviour? There would be no reaction, no room for +better impulses, no place for repentance. Parents, priests, and governesses +would be in the situation of a stout lady who never has a quiet moment in which +she can take off her corsets.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, what a firebrand!” whispered Irais. I got up and went in. They were +sitting on the sofa, Minora with clasped hands, gazing admiringly into Miss +Jones’s face, which wore a very different expression from the one of sour and +unwilling propriety I have been used to seeing. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask you to come to tea?” I said to Minora. “And I should like to have +the children a little while.” +</p> + +<p> +She got up very reluctantly, but I waited with the door open until she had gone +in and the two babies had followed. They had been playing at stuffing each +other’s ears with pieces of newspaper while Miss Jones provided Minora with +noble thoughts for her work, and had to be tortured afterward with tweezers. I +said nothing to Minora, but kept her with us till dinner-time, and this morning +we went for a long sleigh-drive. When we came in to lunch there was no Miss +Jones. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Miss Jones ill?” asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“She is gone,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you never hear of such things as sick mothers?” asked Irais blandly; and +we talked resolutely of something else. +</p> + +<p> +All the afternoon Minora has moped. She had found a kindred spirit, and it has +been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often are. It is +enough to make her mope, and it is not her fault, poor thing, that she should +have preferred the society of a Miss Jones to that of Irais and myself. +</p> + +<p> +At dinner Irais surveyed her with her head on one side. “You look so pale,” she +said; “are you not well?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora raised her eyes heavily, with the patient air of one who likes to be +thought a sufferer. “I have a slight headache,” she replied gently. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are not going to be ill,” said Irais with great concern, “because +there is only a cow-doctor to be had here, and though he means well, I believe +he is rather rough.” Minora was plainly startled. “But what do you do if you +are ill?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we are never ill,” said I; “the very knowledge that there would be no one +to cure us seems to keep us healthy.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if any one takes to her bed,” said Irais, “Elizabeth always calls in the +cow-doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora was silent. She feels, I am sure, that she has got into a part of the +world peopled solely by barbarians, and that the only civilised creature +besides herself has departed and left her at our mercy. Whatever her +reflections may be her symptoms are visibly abating. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 1<i>st</i>.—The service on New Year’s Eve is the only one in the +whole year that in the least impresses me in our little church, and then the +very bareness and ugliness of the place and the ceremonial produce an effect +that a snug service in a well-lit church never would. Last night we took Irais +and Minora, and drove the three lonely miles in a sleigh. It was pitch-dark, +and blowing great guns. We sat wrapped up to our eyes in furs, and as mute as a +funeral procession. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to the burial of our last year’s sins,” said Irais, as we +started; and there certainly was a funereal sort of feeling in the air. Up in +our gallery pew we tried to decipher our chorales by the light of the +spluttering tallow candles stuck in holes in the woodwork, the flames wildly +blown about by the draughts. The wind banged against the windows in great +gusts, screaming louder than the organ, and threatening to blow out the +agitated lights together. The parson in his gloomy pulpit, surrounded by a +framework of dusty carved angels, took on an awful appearance of menacing +Authority as he raised his voice to make himself heard above the clatter. +Sitting there in the dark, I felt very small, and solitary, and defenceless, +alone in a great, big, black world. The church was as cold as a tomb; some of +the candles guttered and went out; the parson in his black robe spoke of death +and judgment; I thought I heard a child’s voice screaming, and could hardly +believe it was only the wind, and felt uneasy and full of forebodings; all my +faith and philosophy deserted me, and I had a horrid feeling that I should +probably be well punished, though for what I had no precise idea. If it had not +been so dark, and if the wind had not howled so despairingly, I should have +paid little attention to the threats issuing from the pulpit; but, as it was, I +fell to making good resolutions. This is always a bad sign,—only those who +break them make them; and if you simply do as a matter of course that which is +right as it comes, any preparatory resolving to do so becomes completely +superfluous. I have for some years past left off making them on New Year’s Eve, +and only the gale happening as it did reduced me to doing so last night; for I +have long since discovered that, though the year and the resolutions may be +new, I myself am not, and it is worse than useless putting new wine into old +bottles. +</p> + +<p> +“But I am not an old bottle,” said Irais indignantly, when I held forth to her +to the above effect a few hours later in the library, restored to all my +philosophy by the warmth and light, “and I find my resolutions carry me very +nicely into the spring. I revise them at the end of each month, and strike out +the unnecessary ones. By the end of April they have been so severely revised +that there are none left.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, you see I am right; if you were not an old bottle your new contents +would gradually arrange themselves amiably as a part of you, and the practice +of your resolutions would lose its bitterness by becoming a habit.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. “Such things never lose their bitterness,” she said, “and +that is why I don’t let them cling to me right into the summer. When May comes, +I give myself up to jollity with all the rest of the world, and am too busy +being happy to bother about anything I may have resolved when the days were +cold and dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is just why I love you,” I thought. She often says what I feel. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” she went on after a pause, “whether men ever make resolutions?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think they do. Only women indulge in such luxuries. It is a nice sort +of feeling, when you have nothing else to do, giving way to endless grief and +penitence, and steeping yourself to the eyes in contrition; but it is silly. +Why cry over things that are done? Why do naughty things at all, if you are +going to repent afterward? Nobody is naughty unless they like being naughty; +and nobody ever really repents unless they are afraid they are going to be +found out.” +</p> + +<p> +“By ‘nobody’ of course you mean women,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally; the terms are synonymous. Besides, men generally have the courage +of their opinions.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais in the amiably polite tone +she assumes whenever she speaks to that young person. +</p> + +<p> +It was getting on towards midnight, and we were sitting round the fire, waiting +for the New Year, and sipping <i>Glühwein</i>, prepared at a small table by the +Man of Wrath. It was hot, and sweet, and rather nasty, but it is proper to +drink it on this one night, so of course we did. +</p> + +<p> +Minora does not like either Irais or myself. We very soon discovered that, and +laugh about it when we are alone together. I can understand her disliking +Irais, but she must be a perverse creature not to like me. Irais has poked fun +at her, and I have been, I hope, very kind; yet we are bracketed together in +her black books. It is also apparent that she looks upon the Man of Wrath as an +interesting example of an ill-used and misunderstood husband, and she is +disposed to take him under her wing, and defend him on all occasions against +us. He never speaks to her; he is at all times a man of few words, but, as far +as Minora is concerned, he might have no tongue at all, and sits sphinx-like +and impenetrable while she takes us to task about some remark of a profane +nature that we may have addressed to him. One night, some days after her +arrival, she developed a skittishness of manner which has since disappeared, +and tried to be playful with him; but you might as well try to be playful with +a graven image. The wife of one of the servants had just produced a boy, the +first after a series of five daughters, and at dinner we drank the health of +all parties concerned, the Man of Wrath making the happy father drink a glass +off at one gulp, his heels well together in military fashion. Minora thought +the incident typical of German manners, and not only made notes about it, but +joined heartily in the health-drinking, and afterward grew skittish. +</p> + +<p> +She proposed, first of all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the Washington +Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England; and, to induce us to +learn, she played the tune to us on the piano. We remained untouched by its +beauties, each buried in an easy-chair toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst +those toes were those of the Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and +smoking. Minora volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, +danced solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look, +and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve to be +placed in Minora’s list of disagreeable people side by side with Irais? +Certainly not. Yet I most surely am. +</p> + +<p> +“It wants the music, of course,” observed Minora breathlessly, darting in and +out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing at the Man of +Wrath. +</p> + +<p> +No answer from anybody. +</p> + +<p> +“It is <i>such</i> a pretty dance,” she panted again, after a few more +gyrations. +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“And is all the rage at home.” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Do let me teach you. Won’t <i>you</i> try, Herr Sage?” +</p> + +<p> +She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she always +addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to every one else, +that he resents it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh come, put away that tiresome old book,” she went on gaily, as he did not +move; “I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that you just nod +over. Dancing is much better for you.” Irais and I looked at one another quite +frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the unhappy girl actually laid +hold forcibly of his book, and, with a playful little shriek, ran away with it +into the next room, hugging it to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her +shoulder at him as she ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our +eyes. Then the Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of +his cigar, looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his own +rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, I must say, +been skittish since. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you are listening, Miss Minora,” said Irais, “because this sort of +conversation is likely to do you good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I always listen when people talk sensibly,” replied Minora, stirring her grog. +</p> + +<p> +Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. “Do you agree with our +hostess’s description of women?” she asked after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“As nobodies? No, of course I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet she is right. In the eye of the law we are literally nobodies in our +country. Did you know that women are forbidden to go to political meetings +here?”</p> + +<p>“Really?” Out came the note-book. +</p> + +<p> +“The law expressly forbids the attendance at such meetings of women, children, +and idiots.” +</p> + +<p> +“Children and idiots—I understand that,” said Minora; “but women—and classed +with children and idiots?” +</p> + +<p> +“Classed with children and idiots,” repeated Irais, gravely nodding her head. +“Did you know that the law forbids females of any age to ride on the top of +omnibuses or tramcars?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because in going up and down the stairs those inside might perhaps catch a +glimpse of the stocking covering their ankles.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what—” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know that the morals of the German public are in such a shaky +condition that a glimpse of that sort would be fatal to them?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t see how a stocking—” +</p> + +<p> +“With stripes round it,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And darns in it,” I added. +</p> + +<p> +“—could possibly be pernicious?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘The Pernicious Stocking; or, Thoughts on the Ethics of Petticoats,’” said +Irais. “Put that down as the name of your next book on Germany.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never know,” complained Minora, letting her note-book fall, “whether you are +in earnest or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you?” said Irais sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true,” appealed Minora to the Man of Wrath, busy with his lemons in the +background, “that your law classes women with children and idiots?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he answered promptly, “and a very proper classification, too.” +</p> + +<p> +We all looked blank. “That’s rude,” said I at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Truth is always rude, my dear,” he replied complacently. Then he added, “If I +were commissioned to draw up a new legal code, and had previously enjoyed the +privilege, as I have been doing lately, of listening to the conversation of you +three young ladies, I should make precisely the same classification.” +</p> + +<p> +Even Minora was incensed at this. +</p> + +<p> +“You are telling us in the most unvarnished manner that we are idiots,” said +Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Idiots? No, no, by no means. But children,—nice little agreeable children. I +very much like to hear you talk together. It is all so young and fresh what you +think and what you believe, and not of the least consequence to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not of the least consequence?” cried Minora. “What we believe is of very great +consequence indeed to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you jeering at our beliefs?” inquired Irais sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for worlds. I would not on any account disturb or change your pretty +little beliefs. It is your chief charm that you always believe every-thing. How +desperate would our case be if young ladies only believed facts, and never +accepted another person’s assurance, but preferred the evidence of their own +eyes! They would have no illusions, and a woman without illusions is the +dreariest and most difficult thing to manage possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thing?” protested Irais. +</p> + +<p> +The Man of Wrath, usually so silent, makes up for it from time to time by +holding forth at unnecessary length. He took up his stand now with his back to +the fire, and a glass of <i>Glühwein</i> in his hand. Minora had hardly heard +his voice before, so quiet had he been since she came, and sat with her pencil +raised, ready to fix for ever the wisdom that should flow from his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“What would become of poetry if women became so sensible that they turned a +deaf ear to the poetic platitudes of love? That love does indulge in platitudes +I suppose you will admit.” He looked at Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they all say exactly the same thing,” she acknowledged. +</p> + +<p> +“Who could murmur pretty speeches on the beauty of a common sacrifice, if the +listener’s want of imagination was such as to enable her only to distinguish +one victim in the picture, and that one herself?” +</p> + +<p> +Minora took that down word for word,—much good may it do her. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would be brave enough to affirm that if refused he will die, if his +assurances merely elicit a recommendation to diet himself, and take plenty of +outdoor exercise? Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe +them. Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross that it is an +insult, and men will always be ready to tell the precise number of lies that a +woman is ready to listen to. Who indulges more recklessly in glowing +exaggerations than the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained? He will, like +the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations, display all his talent, +untiringly repeat his sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his +song, like the nightingale’s, immediately ceases, never again to be heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take that down,” murmured Irais aside to Minora—unnecessary advice, for her +pencil was scribbling as fast as it could. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman’s vanity is so immeasurable that, after having had ninety-nine +object-lessons in the difference between promise and performance and the +emptiness of pretty speeches, the beginning of the hundredth will find her +lending the same willing and enchanted ear to the eloquence of flattery as she +did on the occasion of the first. What can the exhortations of the +strong-minded sister, who has never had these experiences, do for such a woman? +It is useless to tell her she is man’s victim, that she is his plaything, that +she is cheated, down-trodden, kept under, laughed at, shabbily treated in every +way—that is not a true statement of the case. She is simply the victim of her +own vanity, and against that, against the belief in her own fascinations, +against the very part of herself that gives all the colour to her life, who +shall expect a woman to take up arms?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you so vain, Elizabeth?” inquired Irais with a shocked face, “and had you +lent a willing ear to the blandishments of ninety-nine before you reached your +final destiny?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am one of the sensible ones, I suppose,” I replied, “for nobody ever wanted +me to listen to blandishments.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“I like to hear you talk together about the position of women,” he went on, +“and wonder when you will realise that they hold exactly the position they are +fitted for. As soon as they are fit to occupy a better, no power on earth will +be able to keep them out of it. Meanwhile, let me warn you that, as things now +are, only strong-minded women wish to see you the equals of men, and the +strong-minded are invariably plain. The pretty ones would rather see men their +slaves than their equals.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” said Irais, frowning, “that I consider myself strong-minded.” +</p> + +<p> +“And never rise till lunch-time?” +</p> + +<p> +Irais blushed. Although I don’t approve of such conduct, it is very convenient +in more ways than one; I get through my housekeeping undisturbed, and whenever +she is disposed to lecture me, I begin about this habit of hers. Her conscience +must be terribly stricken on the point, for she is by no means as a rule given +to meekness. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman without vanity would be unattackable,” resumed the Man of Wrath. “When +a girl enters that downward path that leads to ruin, she is led solely by her +own vanity; for in these days of policemen no young woman can be forced against +her will from the path of virtue, and the cries of the injured are never heard +until the destroyer begins to express his penitence for having destroyed. If +his passion could remain at white-heat and he could continue to feed her ear +with the protestations she loves, no principles of piety or virtue would +disturb the happiness of his companion; for a mournful experience teaches that +piety begins only where passion ends, and that principles are strongest where +temptations are most rare.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what has all this to do with us?” I inquired severely. +</p> + +<p> +“You were displeased at our law classing you as it does, and I merely wish to +justify it,” he answered. “Creatures who habitually say <i>yes</i> to +everything a man proposes, when no one can oblige them to say it, and when it +is so often fatal, are plainly not responsible beings.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall never say it to you again, my dear man,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“And not only <i>that</i> fatal weakness,” he continued, “but what is there, +candidly, to distinguish you from children? You are older, but not +wiser,—really not so wise, for with years you lose the common sense you had as +children. Have you ever heard a group of women talking reasonably together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—we do!” Irais and I cried in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“It has interested me,” went on the Man of Wrath, “in my idle moments, to +listen to their talk. It amused me to hear the malicious little stories they +told of their best friends who were absent, to note the spiteful little digs +they gave their best friends who were present, to watch the utter incredulity +with which they listened to the tale of some other woman’s conquests, the +radiant good faith they displayed in connection with their own, the instant +collapse into boredom, if some topic of so-called general interest, by some +extraordinary chance, were introduced.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have belonged to a particularly nice set,” remarked Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“And as for politics,” he said, “I have never heard them mentioned among +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Children and idiots are not interested in such things,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“And we are much too frightened of being put in prison,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“In prison?” echoed Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know,” said Irais, turning to her “that if you talk about such +things here you run a great risk of being imprisoned?” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” +</p> + +<p> +“But why? Because, though you yourself may have meant nothing but what was +innocent, your words may have suggested something less innocent to the evil +minds of your hearers; and then the law steps in, and calls it <i>dolus +eventualis</i>, and everybody says how dreadful, and off you go to prison and +are punished as you deserve to be.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora looked mystified. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not, however, your real reason for not discussing them,” said the Man +of Wrath; “they simply do not interest you. Or it may be, that you do not +consider your female friends’ opinions worth listening to, for you certainly +display an astonishing thirst for information when male politicians are +present. I have seen a pretty young woman, hardly in her twenties, sitting a +whole evening drinking in the doubtful wisdom of an elderly political star, +with every appearance of eager interest. He was a bimetallic star, and was +giving her whole pamphletsful of information.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wanted to make up to him for some reason,” said Irais, “and got him to +explain his hobby to her, and he was silly enough to be taken in. Now which was +the sillier in that case?” +</p> + +<p> +She threw herself back in her chair and looked up defiantly, beating her foot +impatiently on the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +“She wanted to be thought clever,” said the Man of Wrath. “What puzzled me,” he +went on musingly, “was that she went away apparently as serene and happy as +when she came. The explanation of the principles of bimetallism produce, as a +rule, a contrary effect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, she hadn’t been listening,” cried Irais, “and your simple star had been +making a fine goose of himself the whole evening. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Prattle, prattle, simple star,<br> +Bimetallic, <i>wunderbar</i>.<br> +Though you’re given to describe<br> +Woman as a <i>dummes Weib</i>.<br> +You yourself are sillier far,<br> +Prattling, bimetallic star!” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt she had understood very little,” said the Man of Wrath, taking no +notice of this effusion. +</p> + +<p> +“And no doubt the gentleman hadn’t understood much either.” Irais was plainly +irritated. +</p> + +<p> +“Your opinion of woman,” said Minora in a very small voice, “is not a high one. +But, in the sick chamber, I suppose you agree that no one could take her +place?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are thinking of hospital-nurses,” I said, “I must tell you that I +believe he married chiefly that he might have a wife instead of a strange woman +to nurse him when he is sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said Minora, bewildered at the way her illusions were being knocked +about, “the sick-room is surely the very place of all others in which a woman’s +gentleness and tact are most valuable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentleness and tact?” repeated the Man of Wrath. “I have never met those +qualities in the professional nurse. According to my experience, she is a +disagreeable person who finds in private nursing exquisite opportunities for +asserting her superiority over ordinary and prostrate mankind. I know of no +more humiliating position for a man than to be in bed having his feverish brow +soothed by a sprucely-dressed strange woman, bristling with starch and +spotlessness. He would give half his income for his clothes, and probably the +other half if she would leave him alone, and go away altogether. He feels her +superiority through every pore; he never before realised how absolutely +inferior he is; he is abjectly polite, and contemptibly conciliatory; if a +friend comes to see him, he eagerly praises her in case she should be listening +behind the screen; he cannot call his soul his own, and, what is far more +intolerable, neither is he sure that his body really belongs to him; he has +read of ministering angels and the light touch of a woman’s hand, but the day +on which he can ring for his servant and put on his socks in private fills him +with the same sort of wildness of joy that he felt as a homesick schoolboy at +the end of his first term.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora was silent. Irais’s foot was livelier than ever. The Man of Wrath stood +smiling blandly down upon us. You can’t argue with a person so utterly +convinced of his infallibility that he won’t even get angry with you; so we sat +round and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“If,” he went on, addressing Irais, who looked rebellious, “you doubt the truth +of my remarks, and still cling to the old poetic notion of noble, +self-sacrificing women tenderly helping the patient over the rough places on +the road to death or recovery, let me beg you to try for yourself, next time +any one in your house is ill, whether the actual fact in any way corresponds to +the picturesque belief. The angel who is to alleviate our sufferings comes in +such a questionable shape, that to the unimaginative she appears merely as an +extremely self-confident young woman, wisely concerned first of all in securing +her personal comfort, much given to complaints about her food and to +helplessness where she should be helpful, possessing an extraordinary capacity +for fancying herself slighted, or not regarded as the superior being she knows +herself to be, morbidly anxious lest the servants should, by some mistake, +treat her with offensive cordiality, pettish if the patient gives more trouble +than she had expected, intensely injured and disagreeable if he is made so +courageous by his wretchedness as to wake her during the night—an act of +desperation of which I was guilty once, and once only. Oh, these good women! +What sane man wants to have to do with angels? And especially do we object to +having them about us when we are sick and sorry, when we feel in every fibre +what poor things we are, and when all our fortitude is needed to enable us to +bear our temporary inferiority patiently, without being forced besides to +assume an attitude of eager and grovelling politeness towards the angel in the +house.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know you could talk so much, Sage,” said Irais at length. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have women do, then?” asked Minora meekly. Irais began to beat +her foot up and down again,—what did it matter what Men of Wrath would have us +do? “There are not,” continued Minora, blushing, “husbands enough for every +one, and the rest must do something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied the oracle. “Study the art of pleasing by dress and manner +as long as you are of an age to interest us, and above all, let all women, +pretty and plain, married and single, study the art of cookery. If you are an +artist in the kitchen you will always be esteemed.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat very still. Every German woman, even the wayward Irais, has learned to +cook; I seem to have been the only one who was naughty and wouldn’t. +</p> + +<p> +“Only be careful,” he went on, “in studying both arts, never to forget the +great truth that dinner precedes blandishments and not blandishments dinner. A +man must be made comfortable before he will make love to you; and though it is +true that if you offered him a choice between <i>Spickgans</i> and kisses, he +would say he would take both, yet he would invariably begin with the +<i>Spickgans</i>, and allow the kisses to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +At this I got up, and Irais followed my example. “Your cynicism is disgusting,” +I said icily. +</p> + +<p> +“You two are always exceptions to anything I may say,” he said, smiling +amiably. +</p> + +<p> +He stooped and kissed Irais’s hand. She is inordinately vain of her hands, and +says her husband married her for their sake, which I can quite believe. I am +glad they are on her and not on Minora, for if Minora had had them I should +have been annoyed. Minora’s are bony, with chilly-looking knuckles, ignored +nails, and too much wrist. I feel very well disposed towards her when my eye +falls on them. She put one forward now, evidently thinking it would be kissed +too. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know,” said Irais, seeing the movement, “that it is the custom here to +kiss women’s hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“But only married women’s,” I added, not desiring her to feel out of it, “never +young girls’.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew it in again. “It is a pretty custom,” she said with a sigh; and +pensively inscribed it in her book. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 15<i>th</i>.—The bills for my roses and bulbs and other last +year’s horticultural indulgences were all on the table when I came down to +breakfast this morning. They rather frightened me. Gardening is expensive, I +find, when it has to be paid for out of one’s own private pin-money. The Man of +Wrath does not in the least want roses, or flowering shrubs, or plantations, or +new paths, and therefore, he asks, why should he pay for them? So he does not +and I do, and I have to make up for it by not indulging all too riotously in +new clothes, which is no doubt very chastening. I certainly prefer buying new +rose-trees to new dresses, if I cannot comfortably have both; and I see a time +coming when the passion for my garden will have taken such a hold on me that I +shall not only entirely cease buying more clothes, but begin to sell those that +I already have. The garden is so big that everything has to be bought +wholesale; and I fear I shall not be able to go on much longer with only one +man and a stork, because the more I plant the more there will be to water in +the inevitable drought, and the watering is a serious consideration when it +means going backwards and forwards all day long to a pump near the house, with +a little water-cart. People living in England, in almost perpetual mildness and +moisture, don’t really know what a drought is. If they have some weeks of +cloudless weather, it is generally preceded and followed by good rains; but we +have perhaps an hour’s shower every week, and then comes a month or six weeks’ +drought. The soil is very light, and dries so quickly that, after the heaviest +thunder-shower, I can walk over any of my paths in my thin shoes; and to keep +the garden even moderately damp it should pour with rain regularly every day +for three hours. My only means of getting water is to go to the pump near the +house, or to the little stream that forms my eastern boundary, and the little +stream dries up too unless there has been rain, and is at the best of times +difficult to get at, having steep banks covered with forget-me-nots. I possess +one moist, peaty bit of ground, and that is to be planted with silver birches +in imitation of the Hirschwald, and is to be carpeted between the birches with +flaming azaleas. All the rest of my soil is sandy—the soil for pines and +acacias, but not the soil for roses; yet see what love will do—there are more +roses in my garden than any other flower! Next spring the bare places are to be +filled with trees that I have ordered: pines behind the delicate acacias, and +startling mountain-ashes, oaks, copper-beeches, maples, larches, +juniper-trees—was it not Elijah who sat down to rest under a juniper-tree? I +have often wondered how he managed to get under it. It is a compact little +tree, not more than two to three yards high here, and all closely squeezed up +together. Perhaps they grew more aggressively where he was. By the time the +babies have grown old and disagreeable it will be very pretty here, and then +possibly they won’t like it; and, if they have inherited the Man of Wrath’s +indifference to gardens, they will let it run wild and leave it to return to +the state in which I found it. Or perhaps their three husbands will refuse to +live in it, or to come to such a lonely place at all, and then of course its +fate is sealed. My only comfort is that husbands don’t flourish in the desert, +and that the three will have to wait a long time before enough are found to go +round. Mothers tell me that it is a dreadful business finding one husband; how +much more painful then to have to look for three at once!—the babies are so +nearly the same age that they only just escaped being twins. But I won’t look. +I can imagine nothing more uncomfortable than a son-in-law, and besides, I +don’t think a husband is at all a good thing for a girl to have. I shall do my +best in the years at my disposal to train them so to love the garden, and +out-door life, and even farming, that, if they have a spark of their mother in +them, they will want and ask for nothing better. My hope of success is however +exceedingly small, and there is probably a fearful period in store for me when +I shall be taken every day during the winter to the distant towns to balls—a +poor old mother shivering in broad daylight in her party gown, and being made +to start after an early lunch and not getting home till breakfast-time next +morning. Indeed, they have already developed an alarming desire to go to +“partings” as they call them, the April baby announcing her intention of +beginning to do so when she is twelve. “Are <i>you</i> twelve, Mummy?” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +The gardener is leaving on the first of April, and I am trying to find another. +It is grievous changing so often—in two years I shall have had three—because at +each change a great part of my plants and plans necessarily suffers. Seeds get +lost, seedlings are not pricked out in time, places already sown are planted +with something else, and there is confusion out of doors and despair in my +heart. But he was to have married the cook, and the cook saw a ghost and +immediately left, and he is going after her as soon as he can, and meanwhile is +wasting visibly away. What she saw was doors that are locked opening with a +great clatter all by themselves <i>on the hinge-side</i>, and then somebody +invisible cursed at her. These phenomena now go by the name of “the ghost.” She +asked to be allowed to leave at once, as she had never been in a place where +there was a ghost before. I suggested that she should try and get used to it; +but she thought it would be wasting time, and she looked so ill that I let her +go, and the garden has to suffer. I don’t know why it should be given to cooks +to see such interesting things and withheld from me, but I have had two others +since she left, and they both have seen the ghost. Minora grows very silent as +bed-time approaches, and relents towards Irais and myself; and, after having +shown us all day how little she approves us, when the bedroom candles are +brought she quite begins to cling. She has once or twice anxiously inquired +whether Irais is sure she does not object to sleeping alone. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are at all nervous, I will come and keep you company,” she said; “I +don’t mind at all, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +But Irais is not to be taken in by such simple wiles, and has told me she would +rather sleep with fifty ghosts than with one Minora. +</p> + +<p> +Since Miss Jones was so unexpectedly called away to her parent’s bedside I have +seen a good deal of the babies; and it is so nice without a governess that I +would put off engaging another for a year or two, if it were not that I should +in so doing come within the reach of the arm of the law, which is what every +German spends his life in trying to avoid. The April baby will be six next +month, and, after her sixth birthday is passed, we are liable at any moment to +receive a visit from a school inspector, who will inquire curiously into the +state of her education, and, if it is not up to the required standard, all +sorts of fearful things might happen to the guilty parents, probably beginning +with fines, and going on <i>crescendo</i> to dungeons if, owing to gaps between +governesses and difficulties in finding the right one, we persisted in our evil +courses. Shades of the prison-house begin to close here upon the growing boy, +and prisons compass the Teuton about on every side all through life to such an +extent that he has to walk very delicately indeed if he would stay outside them +and pay for their maintenance. Cultured individuals do not, as a rule, neglect +to teach their offspring to read, and write, and say their prayers, and are apt +to resent the intrusion of an examining inspector into their homes; but it does +not much matter after all, and I daresay it is very good for us to be worried; +indeed, a philosopher of my acquaintance declares that people who are not +regularly and properly worried are never any good for anything. In the eye of +the law we are all sinners, and every man is held to be guilty until he has +proved that he is innocent. +</p> + +<p> +Minora has seen so much of the babies that, after vainly trying to get out of +their way for several days, she thought it better to resign herself, and make +the best of it by regarding them as copy, and using them to fill a chapter in +her book. So she took to dogging their footsteps wherever they went, attended +their uprisings and their lyings down, engaged them, if she could, in +intelligent conversation, went with them into the garden to study their ways +when they were sleighing, drawn by a big dog, and generally made their lives a +burden to them. This went on for three days, and then she settled down to write +the result with the Man of Wrath’s typewriter, borrowed whenever her notes for +any chapter have reached the state of ripeness necessary for the process she +describes as “throwing into form.” She writes everything with a typewriter, +even her private letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget to put in something about a mother’s knee,” said Irais; “you +can’t write effectively about children without that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of course I shall mention that,” replied Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“And pink toes,” I added. “There are always toes, and they are never anything +but pink.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have that somewhere,” said Minora, turning over her notes. +</p> + +<p> +“But, after all, babies are not a German speciality,” said Irais, “and I don’t +quite see why you should bring them into a book of German travels. Elizabeth’s +babies have each got the fashionable number of arms and legs, and are exactly +the same as English ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but they can’t be <i>just</i> the same, you know,” said Minora, looking +worried. “It must make a difference living here in this place, and eating such +odd things, and never having a doctor, and never being ill. Children who have +never had measles and those things can’t be quite the same as other children; +it must all be in their systems and can’t get out for some reason or other. And +a child brought up on chicken and rice-pudding must be different to a child +that eats <i>Spickgans</i> and liver sausages. And they <i>are</i> different; I +can’t tell in what way, but they certainly are; and I think if I steadily +describe them from the materials I have collected the last three days, I may +perhaps hit on the points of difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why bother about points of difference?” asked Irais. “I should write some +little thing, bringing in the usual parts of the picture, such as knees and +toes, and make it mildly pathetic.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is by no means an easy thing for me to do,” said Minora plaintively; “I +have so little experience of children.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why write it at all?” asked that sensible person Elizabeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I have as little experience as you,” said Irais, “because I have no children; +but if you don’t yearn after startling originality, nothing is easier than to +write bits about them. I believe I could do a dozen in an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat down at the writing-table, took up an old letter, and scribbled for +about five minutes. “There,” she said, throwing it to Minora, “you may have +it—pink toes and all complete.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora put on her eye-glasses and read aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“When my baby shuts her eyes and sings her hymns at bed-time my stale and +battered soul is filled with awe. All sorts of vague memories crowd into my +mind—memories of my own mother and myself—how many years ago!—of the sweet +helplessness of being gathered up half asleep in her arms, and undressed, and +put in my cot, without being wakened; of the angels I believed in; of little +children coming straight from heaven, and still being surrounded, so long as +they were good, by the shadow of white wings,—all the dear poetic nonsense +learned, just as my baby is learning it, at her mother’s knee. She has not an +idea of the beauty of the charming things she is told, and stares wide-eyed, +with heavenly eyes, while her mother talks of the heaven she has so lately come +from, and is relieved and comforted by the interrupting bread and milk. At two +years old she does not understand angels, and does understand bread and milk; +at five she has vague notions about them, and prefers bread and milk; at ten +both bread and milk and angels have been left behind in the nursery, and she +has already found out that they are luxuries not necessary to her everyday +life. In later years she may be disinclined to accept truths second-hand, +insist on thinking for herself, be earnest in her desire to shake off exploded +traditions, be untiring in her efforts to live according to a high moral +standard and to be strong, and pure, and good—” +</p> + +<p> +“Like tea,” explained Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“—yet will she never, with all her virtues, possess one-thousandth part of the +charm that clung about her when she sang, with quiet eyelids, her first +reluctant hymns, kneeling on her mother’s knees. I love to come in at bed-time +and sit in the window in the setting sunshine watching the mysteries of her +going to bed. Her mother tubs her, for she is far too precious to be touched by +any nurse, and then she is rolled up in a big bath towel, and only her little +pink toes peep out; and when she is powdered, and combed, and tied up in her +night-dress, and all her curls are on end, and her ears glowing, she is knelt +down on her mother’s lap, a little bundle of fragrant flesh, and her face +reflects the quiet of her mother’s face as she goes through her evening prayer +for pity and for peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“How very curious!” said Minora, when she had finished. “That is exactly what I +was going to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then I have saved you the trouble of putting it together; you can copy +that if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“But have you a stale soul, Miss Minora?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you know, I rather think that is a good touch,” she replied; “it will +make people really think a man wrote the book. You know I am going to take a +man’s name.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is precisely what I imagined,” said Irais. “You will call yourself John +Jones, or George Potts, or some such sternly commonplace name, to emphasise +your uncompromising attitude towards all feminine weaknesses, and no one will +be taken in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I really think, Elizabeth,” said Irais to me later, when the click of Minora’s +typewriter was heard hesitating in the next room, “that you and I are writing +her book for her. She takes down everything we say. Why does she copy all that +about the baby? I wonder why mothers’ knees are supposed to be touching? I +never learned anything at them, did you? But then in my case they were only +stepmother’s, and nobody ever sings their praises.” +</p> + +<p> +“My mother was always at parties,” I said; “and the nurse made me say my +prayers in French.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as for tubs and powder,” went on Irais, “when I was a baby such things +were not the fashion. There were never any bathrooms, and no tubs; our faces +and hands were washed, and there was a foot-bath in the room, and in the summer +we had a bath and were put to bed afterwards for fear we might catch cold. My +stepmother didn’t worry much; she used to wear pink dresses all over lace, and +the older she got the prettier the dresses got. When is she going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who? Minora? I haven’t asked her that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will. It is really bad for her art to be neglected like this. She has +been here an unconscionable time,—it must be nearly three weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she came the same day you did,” I said pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +Irais was silent. I hope she was reflecting that it is not worse to neglect +one’s art than one’s husband, and her husband is lying all this time stretched +on a bed of sickness, while she is spending her days so agreeably with me. She +has a way of forgetting that she has a home, or any other business in the world +than just to stay on chatting with me, and reading, and singing, and laughing +at any one there is to laugh at, and kissing the babies, and tilting with the +Man of Wrath. Naturally I love her—she is so pretty that anybody with eyes in +his head must love her—but too much of anything is bad, and next month the +passages and offices are to be whitewashed, and people who have ever +whitewashed their houses inside know what nice places they are to live in while +it is being done; and there will be no dinner for Irais, and none of those +succulent salads full of caraway seeds that she so devotedly loves. I shall +begin to lead her thoughts gently back to her duties by inquiring every day +anxiously after her husband’s health. She is not very fond of him, because he +does not run and hold the door open for her every time she gets up to leave the +room; and though she has asked him to do so, and told him how much she wishes +he would, he still won’t. She stayed once in a house where there was an +Englishman, and his nimbleness in regard to doors and chairs so impressed her +that her husband has had no peace since, and each time she has to go out of a +room she is reminded of her disregarded wishes, so that a shut door is to her +symbolic of the failure of her married life, and the very sight of one makes +her wonder why she was born; at least, that is what she told me once, in a +burst of confidence. He is quite a nice, harmless little man, pleasant to talk +to, good-tempered, and full of fun; but he thinks he is too old to begin to +learn new and uncomfortable ways, and he has that horror of being made better +by his wife that distinguishes so many righteous men, and is shared by the Man +of Wrath, who persists in holding his glass in his left hand at meals, because +if he did not (and I don’t believe he particularly likes doing it) his +relations might say that marriage has improved him, and thus drive the iron +into his soul. This habit occasions an almost daily argument between one or +other of the babies and myself. +</p> + +<p> +“April, hold your glass in your right hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But papa doesn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“When you are as old as papa you can do as you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Which was embellished only yesterday by Minora adding impressively, “And only +think how strange it would look if <i>everybody</i> held their glasses so.” +</p> + +<p> +April was greatly struck by the force of this proposition. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>January</i> 28<i>th</i>.—It is very cold,—fifteen degrees of frost +<i>Réaumur</i>, but perfectly delicious, still, bright weather, and one feels +jolly and energetic and amiably disposed towards everybody. The two young +ladies are still here, but the air is so buoyant that even they don’t weigh on +me any longer, and besides, they have both announced their approaching +departure, so that after all I shall get my whitewashing done in peace, and the +house will have on its clean pinafore in time to welcome the spring. +</p> + +<p> +Minora has painted my portrait, and is going to present it as a parting gift to +the Man of Wrath; and the fact that I let her do it, and sat meekly times +innumerable, proves conclusively, I hope, that I am not vain. When Irais first +saw it she laughed till she cried, and at once commissioned her to paint hers, +so that she may take it away with her and give it to her husband on his +birthday, which happens to be early in February. Indeed, if it were not for +this birthday, I really think she would have forgotten to go at all; but +birthdays are great and solemn festivals with us, never allowed to slip by +unnoticed, and always celebrated in the presence of a sympathetic crowd of +relations (gathered from far and near to tell you how well you are wearing, and +that nobody would ever dream, and that really it is wonderful), who stand round +a sort of sacrificial altar, on which your years are offered up as a +burnt-offering to the gods in the shape of lighted pink and white candles, +stuck in a very large, flat, jammy cake. The cake with its candles is the chief +feature, and on the table round it lie the gifts each person present is more or +less bound to give. As my birthday falls in the winter I get mittens as well as +blotting-books and photograph-frames, and if it were in the summer I should get +photograph-frames and blotting-books and no mittens; but whatever the present +may be, and by whomsoever given, it has to be welcomed with the noisiest +gratitude, and loudest exclamations of joy, and such words as <i>entzückend, +reizend, herrlich, wundervoll</i>, and <i>süss</i> repeated over and over +again, until the unfortunate <i>Geburtstagskind</i> feels indeed that another +year has gone, and that she has grown older, and wiser, and more tired of folly +and of vain repetitions. A flag is hoisted, and all the morning the rites are +celebrated, the cake eaten, healths drunk, speeches made, and hands nearly +shaken off. The neighbouring parsons drive up, and when nobody is looking their +wives count the candles in the cake; the active lady in the next <i>Schloss</i> +spares time to send a pot of flowers, and to look up my age in the <i>Gotha +Almanach;</i> a deputation comes from the farms headed by the chief inspector +in white kid gloves who invokes Heaven’s blessings on the gracious lady’s head; +and the babies are enchanted, and sit in a corner trying on all the mittens. In +the evening there is a dinner for the relations and the chief local +authorities, with more health-drinking and speechifying, and the next morning, +when I come downstairs thankful to have done with it, I am confronted by the +altar still in its place, cake crumbs and candle-grease and all, because any +hasty removal of it would imply a most lamentable want of sentiment, deplorable +in anybody, but scandalous and disgusting in a tender female. All birthdays are +observed in this fashion, and not a few wise persons go for a short trip just +about the time theirs is due, and I think I shall imitate them next year; only +trips to the country or seaside in December are not usually pleasant, and if I +go to a town there are sure to be relations in it, and then the cake will +spring up mushroom-like from the teeming soil of their affection. +</p> + +<p> +I hope it has been made evident in these pages how superior Irais and myself +are to the ordinary weaknesses of mankind; if any further proof were needed, it +is furnished by the fact that we both, in defiance of tradition, scorn this +celebration of birthday rites. Years ago, when first I knew her, and long +before we were either of us married, I sent her a little brass candlestick on +her birthday; and when mine followed a few months later, she sent me a +note-book. No notes were written in it, and on her next birthday I presented it +to her; she thanked me profusely in the customary manner, and when my turn came +I received the brass candlestick. Since then we alternately enjoy the +possession of each of these articles, and the present question is comfortably +settled once and for all, at a minimum of trouble and expense. We never mention +this little arrangement except at the proper time, when we send a letter of +fervid thanks. +</p> + +<p> +This radiant weather, when mere living is a joy, and sitting still over the +fire out of the question, has been going on for more than a week. Sleighing and +skating have been our chief occupation, especially skating, which is more than +usually fascinating here, because the place is intersected by small canals +communicating with a lake and the river belonging to the lake, and as +everything is frozen black and hard, we can skate for miles straight ahead +without being obliged to turn round and come back again,—at all times an +annoying, and even mortifying, proceeding. Irais skates beautifully: modesty is +the only obstacle to my saying the same of myself; but I may remark that all +Germans skate well, for the simple reason that every year of their lives, for +three or four months, they may do it as much as they like. Minora was +astonished and disconcerted by finding herself left behind, and arriving at the +place where tea meets us half an hour after we had finished. In some places the +banks of the canals are so high that only our heads appear level with the +fields, and it is, as Minora noted in her book, a curious sight to see three +female heads skimming along apparently by themselves, and enjoying it +tremendously. When the banks are low, we appear to be gliding deliciously over +the roughest ploughed fields, with or without legs according to circumstances. +Before we start, I fix on the place where tea and a sleigh are to meet us, and +we drive home again; because skating against the wind is as detestable as +skating with it is delightful, and an unkind Nature arranges its blowing +without the smallest regard for our convenience. Yesterday, by way of a change, +we went for a picnic to the shores of the Baltic, ice-bound at this season, and +utterly desolate at our nearest point. I have a weakness for picnics, +especially in winter, when the mosquitoes cease from troubling and the +ant-hills are at rest; and of all my many favourite picnic spots this one on +the Baltic is the loveliest and best. As it is a three-hours’ drive, the Man of +Wrath is loud in his lamentations when the special sort of weather comes which +means, as experience has taught him, this particular excursion. There must be +deep snow, hard frost, no wind, and a cloudless sky; and when, on waking up, I +see these conditions fulfilled, then it would need some very potent reason to +keep me from having out a sleigh and going off. It is, I admit, a hard day for +the horses; but why have horses if they are not to take you where you want to +go to, and at the time you want to go? And why should not horses have hard days +as well as everybody else? The Man of Wrath loathes picnics, and has no eye for +nature and frozen seas, and is simply bored by a long drive through a forest +that does not belong to him; a single turnip on his own place is more admirable +in his eyes than the tallest, pinkest, straightest pine that ever reared its +snow-crowned head against the setting sunlight. Now observe the superiority of +woman, who sees that both are good, and after having gazed at the pine and been +made happy by its beauty, goes home and placidly eats the turnip. He went once +and only once to this particular place, and made us feel so small by his +<i>blasé</i> behaviour that I never invite him now. It is a beautiful spot, +endless forest stretching along the shore as far as the eye can reach; and +after driving through it for miles you come suddenly, at the end of an avenue +of arching trees, upon the glistening, oily sea, with the orange-coloured sails +of distant fishing-smacks shilling in the sunlight. Whenever I have been there +it has been windless weather, and the silence so profound that I could hear my +pulses beating. The humming of insects and the sudden scream of a jay are the +only sounds in summer, and in winter the stillness is the stillness of death. +</p> + +<p> +Every paradise has its serpent, however, and this one is so infested by +mosquitoes during the season when picnics seem most natural, that those of my +visitors who have been taken there for a treat have invariably lost their +tempers, and made the quiet shores ring with their wailing and lamentations. +These despicable but irritating insects don’t seem to have anything to do but +to sit in multitudes on the sand, waiting for any prey Providence may send +them; and as soon as the carriage appears they rise up in a cloud, and rush to +meet us, almost dragging us out bodily, and never leave us until we drive away +again. The sudden view of the sea from the messy, pine-covered height directly +above it where we picnic; the wonderful stretch of lonely shore with the forest +to the water’s edge; the coloured sails in the blue distance; the freshness, +the brightness, the vastness—all is lost upon the picnickers, and made worse +than indifferent to them, by the perpetual necessity they are under of fighting +these horrid creatures. It is nice being the only person who ever goes there or +shows it to anybody, but if more people went, perhaps the mosquitoes would be +less lean, and hungry, and pleased to see us. It has, however, the advantage of +being a suitable place to which to take refractory visitors when they have +stayed too long, or left my books out in the garden all night, or otherwise +made their presence a burden too grievous to be borne; then one fine hot +morning when they are all looking limp, I suddenly propose a picnic on the +Baltic. I have never known this proposal fail to be greeted with exclamations +of surprise and delight. +</p> + +<p> +“The Baltic! You never told us you were within driving distance? How +<i>heavenly</i> to get a breath of sea air on a day like this! The very +<i>thought</i> puts new life into one! And how <i>delightful</i> to see the +Baltic! Oh, <i>please</i> take us!” And then I take them. +</p> + +<p> +But on a brilliant winter’s day my conscience is as clear as the frosty air +itself, and yesterday morning we started off in the gayest of spirits, even +Minora being disposed to laugh immoderately on the least provocation. Only our +eyes were allowed to peep out from the fur and woollen wrappings necessary to +our heads if we would come back with our ears and noses in the same places they +were in when we started, and for the first two miles the mirth created by each +other’s strange appearance was uproarious,—a fact I mention merely to show what +an effect dry, bright, intense cold produces on healthy bodies, and how much +better it is to go out in it and enjoy it than to stay indoors and sulk. As we +passed through the neighbouring village with cracking of whip and jingling of +bells, heads popped up at the windows to stare, and the only living thing in +the silent, sunny street was a melancholy fowl with ruffled feathers, which +looked at us reproachfully, as we dashed with so much energy over the crackling +snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, foolish bird!” Irais called out as we passed; “you’ll be indeed a cold +fowl if you stand there motionless, and every one prefers them hot in weather +like this!” +</p> + +<p> +And then we all laughed exceedingly, as though the most splendid joke had been +made, and before we had done we were out of the village and in the open country +beyond, and could see my house and garden far away behind, glittering in the +sunshine; and in front of us lay the forest, with its vistas of pines +stretching away into infinity, and a drive through it of fourteen miles before +we reached the sea. It was a hoar-frost day, and the forest was an enchanted +forest leading into fairyland, and though Irais and I have been there often +before, and always thought it beautiful, yet yesterday we stood under the final +arch of frosted trees, struck silent by the sheer loveliness of the place. For +a long way out the sea was frozen, and then there was a deep blue line, and a +cluster of motionless orange sails; at our feet a narrow strip of pale yellow +sand; right and left the line of sparkling forest; and we ourselves standing in +a world of white and diamond traceries. The stillness of an eternal Sunday lay +on the place like a benediction. +</p> + +<p> +Minora broke the silence by remarking that Dresden was pretty, but she thought +this beat it almost. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see,” said Irais in a hushed voice, as though she were in a holy +place, “how the two can be compared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dresden is more convenient, of course,” replied Minora; after which we +turned away and thought we would keep her quiet by feeding her, so we went back +to the sleigh and had the horses taken out and their cloths put on, and they +were walked up and down a distant glade while we sat in the sleigh and +picnicked. It <i>is</i> a hard day for the horses,—nearly thirty miles there +and back and no stable in the middle; but they are so fat and spoiled that it +cannot do them much harm sometimes to taste the bitterness of life. I warmed +soup in a little apparatus I have for such occasions, which helped to take the +chilliness off the sandwiches,—this is the only unpleasant part of a winter +picnic, the clammy quality of the provisions just when you most long for +something very hot. Minora let her nose very carefully out of its wrappings, +took a mouthful, and covered it up quickly again. She was nervous lest it +should be frost-nipped, and truth compels me to add that her nose is not a bad +nose, and might even be pretty on anybody else; but she does not know how to +carry it, and there is an art in the angle at which one’s nose is held just as +in everything else, and really noses were intended for something besides mere +blowing. +</p> + +<p> +It is the most difficult thing in the world to eat sandwiches with immense fur +and woollen gloves on, and I think we ate almost as much fur as anything, and +choked exceedingly during the process. Minora was angry at this, and at last +pulled off her glove, but quickly put it on again. +</p> + +<p> +“How very unpleasant,” she remarked after swallowing a large piece of fur. +</p> + +<p> +“It will wrap round your pipes, and keep them warm,” said Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Pipes!” echoed Minora, greatly disgusted by such vulgarity. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” I said, as she continued to choke and splutter; +“we are all in the same case, and I don’t know how to alter it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are such things as forks, I suppose,” snapped Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said I, crushed by the obviousness of the remedy; but of what +use are forks if they are fifteen miles off? So Minora had to continue to eat +her gloves. +</p> + +<p> +By the time we had finished, the sun was already low behind the trees and the +clouds beginning to flush a faint pink. The old coachman was given sandwiches +and soup, and while he led the horses up and down with one hand and held his +lunch in the other, we packed up—or, to be correct, I packed, and the others +looked on and gave me valuable advice. +</p> + +<p> +This coachman, Peter by name, is seventy years old, and was born on the place, +and has driven its occupants for fifty years, and I am nearly as fond of him as +I am of the sun-dial; indeed, I don’t know what I should do without him, so +entirely does he appear to understand and approve of my tastes and wishes. No +drive is too long or difficult for the horses if I want to take it, no place +impossible to reach if I want to go to it, no weather or roads too bad to +prevent my going out if I wish to: to all my suggestions he responds with the +readiest cheerfulness, and smoothes away all objections raised by the Man of +Wrath, who rewards his alacrity in doing my pleasure by speaking of him as an +<i>alter Esel</i>. In the summer, on fine evenings, I love to drive late and +alone in the scented forests, and when I have reached a dark part stop, and sit +quite still, listening to the nightingales repeating their little tune over and +over again after interludes of gurgling, or if there are no nightingales, +listening to the marvellous silence, and letting its blessedness descend into +my very soul. The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same +tune, and in the same key of (E flat). +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img03.jpg" width="479" height="70" alt=""> +</div> + +<p class="noindent"> +I don’t know whether all nightingales do this, or if it is peculiar to this +particular spot. When they have sung it once, they clear their throats a +little, and hesitate, and then do it again, and it is the prettiest little song +in the world. How could I indulge my passion for these drives with their pauses +without Peter? He is so used to them that he stops now at the right moment +without having to be told, and he is ready to drive me all night if I wish it, +with no sign of anything but cheerful willingness on his nice old face. The Man +of Wrath deplores these eccentric tastes, as he calls them, of mine; but has +given up trying to prevent my indulging them because, while he is deploring in +one part of the house, I have slipped out at a door in the other, and am gone +before he can catch me, and have reached and am lost in the shadows of the +forest by the time he has discovered that I am nowhere to be found. +</p> + +<p> +The brightness of Peter’s perfections are sullied however by one spot, and that +is, that as age creeps upon him, he not only cannot hold the horses in if they +don’t want to be held in, but he goes to sleep sometimes on his box if I have +him out too soon after lunch, and has upset me twice within the last year—once +last winter out of a sleigh, and once this summer, when the horses shied at a +bicycle, and bolted into the ditch on one side of the <i>chaussée</i> (German +for high road), and the bicycle was so terrified at the horses shying that it +shied too into the ditch on the other side, and the carriage was smashed, and +the bicycle was smashed, and we were all very unhappy, except Peter, who never +lost his pleasant smile, and looked so placid that my tongue clave to the roof +of my mouth when I tried to make it scold him. +</p> + +<p> +“But I should think he ought to have been <i>thoroughly</i> scolded on an +occasion like that,” said Minora, to whom I had been telling this story as we +wandered on the yellow sands while the horses were being put in the sleigh; and +she glanced nervously up at Peter, whose mild head was visible between the +bushes above us. “Shall we get home before dark?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had altogether disappeared behind the pines and only the very highest +of the little clouds were still pink; out at sea the mists were creeping up, +and the sails of the fishing-smacks had turned a dull brown; a flight of wild +geese passed across the disc of the moon with loud cacklings. +</p> + +<p> +“Before dark?” echoed Irais, “I should think not. It is dark now nearly in the +forest, and we shall have the loveliest moonlight drive back.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is surely very dangerous to let a man who goes to sleep drive you,” +said Minora apprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“But he’s such an old dear,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, no doubt,” she replied tastily; “but there are wakeful old dears to +be had, and on a box they are preferable.” +</p> + +<p> +Irais laughed. “You are growing quite amusing, Miss Minora,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“He isn’t on a box to-day,” said I; “and I never knew him to go to sleep +standing up behind us on a sleigh.” But Minora was not to be appeased, and +muttered something about seeing no fun in foolhardiness, which shows how +alarmed she was, for it was rude. +</p> + +<p> +Peter, however, behaved beautifully on the way home, and Irais and I at least +were as happy as possible driving back, with all the glories of the western sky +flashing at us every now and then at the end of a long avenue as we swiftly +passed, and later on, when they had faded, myriads of stars in the narrow black +strip of sky over our heads. It was bitterly cold, and Minora was silent, and +not in the least inclined to laugh with us as she had been six hours before. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you enjoyed yourself, Miss Minora?’ inquired Irais, as we got out of the +forest on to the <i>chaussée</i>, and the lights of the village before ours +twinkled in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +“How many degrees do you suppose there are now?” was Minora’s reply to this +question. +</p> + +<p> +“Degrees?—Of frost? Oh, dear me, are you cold,” cried Irais solicitously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it isn’t exactly warm, is it?” said Minora sulkily; and Irais pinched +me. “Well, but think how much colder you would have been without all that fur +you ate for lunch inside you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“And what a nice chapter you will be able to write about the Baltic,” said I. +“Why, it is practically certain that you are the first English person who has +ever been to just this part of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t there some English poem,” said Irais, “about being the first who ever +burst—” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Into that silent sea,’” finished Minora hastily. “You can’t quote that +without its context, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I wasn’t going to,” said Irais meekly; “I only paused to breathe. I must +breathe, or perhaps I might die.” +</p> + +<p> +The lights from my energetic friend’s <i>Schloss</i> shone brightly down upon +us as we passed round the base of the hill on which it stands; she is very +proud of this hill, as well she may be, seeing that it is the only one in the +whole district. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you never go there?” asked Minora, jerking her head in the direction of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes. She is a very busy woman, and I should feel I was in the way if I +went often.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be interesting to see another North German interior,” said Minora; +“and I should be obliged if you would take me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t fall upon her suddenly with a strange girl,” I protested; “and we +are not at all on such intimate terms as to justify my taking all my visitors +to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to see another interior for?” asked Irais. “I can tell you +what it is like; and if you went nobody would speak to you, and if you were to +ask questions, and began to take notes, the good lady would stare at you in the +frankest amazement, and think Elizabeth had brought a young lunatic out for an +airing. <i>Everybody</i> is not as patient as Elizabeth,” added Irais, anxious +to pay off old scores. +</p> + +<p> +“I would do a great deal for you, Miss Minora,” I said, “but I can’t do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we went,” said Irais, “Elizabeth and I would be placed with great ceremony +on a sofa behind a large, polished oval table with a crochet-mat in the +centre—it <i>has</i> got a crochet-mat in the centre, hasn’t it?” I nodded. +“And you would sit on one of the four little podgy, buttony, tasselly red +chairs that are ranged on the other side of the table facing the sofa. They +<i>are</i> red, Elizabeth?” Again I nodded. “The floor is painted yellow, and +there is no carpet except a rug in front of the sofa. The paper is dark +chocolate colour, almost black; that is in order that after years of use the +dirt may not show, and the room need not be done up. Dirt is like wickedness, +you see, Miss Minora—its being there never matters; it is only when it shows so +much as to be apparent to everybody that we are ashamed of it. At intervals +round the high walls are chairs, and cabinets with lamps on them, and in one +corner is a great white cold stove—or is it majolica?” she asked, turning to +me. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is white.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are a great many lovely big windows, all ready to let in the air and the +sun, but they are as carefully covered with brown lace curtains under heavy +stuff ones as though a whole row of houses were just opposite, with peering +eyes at every window trying to look in, instead of there only being fields, and +trees, and birds. No fire, no sunlight, no books, no flowers; but a consoling +smell of red cabbage coming up under the door, mixed, in due season, with +soapsuds.” +</p> + +<p> +“When did you go there?” asked Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, when did I go there indeed? When did I not go there? I have been calling +there all my life.” +</p> + +<p> +Minora’s eyes rolled doubtfully first at me then at Irais from the depths of +her head-wrappings; they are large eyes with long dark eyelashes, and far be it +from me to deny that each eye taken by itself is fine, but they are put in all +wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing you would learn there,” went on Irais, “would be the +significance of sofa corners in Germany. If we three went there together, I +should be ushered into the right-hand corner of the sofa, because it is the +place of honour, and I am the greatest stranger; Elizabeth would be invited to +seat herself in the left-hand corner, as next in importance; the hostess would +sit near us in an arm-chair; and you, as a person of no importance whatever, +would either be left to sit where you could, or would be put on a chair facing +us, and with the entire breadth of the table between us to mark the immense +social gulf that separates the married woman from the mere virgin. These sofa +corners make the drawing of nice distinctions possible in a way that nothing +else could. The world might come to an end, and create less sensation in doing +it, than you would, Miss Minora, if by any chance you got into the right-hand +corner of one. That you are put on a chair on the other side of the table +places you at once in the scale of precedence, and exactly defines your social +position, or rather your complete want of a social position.” And Irais tilted +her nose ever so little heavenwards. +</p> + +<p> +“Note it,” she added, “as the heading of your next chapter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Note what?” asked Minora impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, ‘The Subtle Significance of Sofas’, of course,” replied Irais. “If,” she +continued, as Minora made no reply appreciative of this suggestion, “you were +to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues the innocent would most likely +make you hit on a washing-day, and the distracted mistress of the house would +keep you waiting in the cold room so long while she changed her dress, that you +would begin to fear you were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and +when she did appear, would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the +rage that was boiling in her heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing?” +</p> + +<p> +“What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent—pardon my familiarity, +but such ignorance of country-life customs is very touching in one who is +writing a book about them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant,” said Minora loftily. +</p> + +<p> +“Seasons of washing,” explained Irais, “are seasons set apart by the +<i>Hausfrau</i> to be kept holy. They only occur every two or three months, and +while they are going on the whole house is in an uproar, every other +consideration sacrificed, husband and children sunk into insignificance, and no +one approaching, or interfering with the mistress of the house during these +days of purification, but at their peril.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t really mean,” said Minora, “that you only wash your clothes four +times a year?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Irais. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think that is very disgusting,” said Minora emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +Irais raised those pretty, delicate eyebrows of hers. “Then you must take care +and not marry a German,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the object of it?” went on Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to clean the linen, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, but why only at such long intervals?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is an outward and visible sign of vast possessions in the shape of linen. +If you were to want to have your clothes washed every week, as you do in +England, you would be put down as a person who only has just enough to last +that length of time, and would be an object of general contempt.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I should be a clean object,” cried Minora, “and my house would not be full +of accumulated dirt.” +</p> + +<p> +We said nothing—there was nothing to be said. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a happy land, that England of yours,” Irais remarked after a while +with a sigh—a beatific vision no doubt presenting itself to her mind of a land +full of washerwomen and agile gentlemen darting at door-handles. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a <i>clean</i> land, at any rate,” replied Minora. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> don’t want to go and live in it,” I said—for we were driving up to +the house, and a memory of fogs and umbrellas came into my mind as I looked up +fondly at its dear old west front, and I felt that what I want is to live and +die just here, and that there never was such a happy woman as Elizabeth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p> +<i>April</i> 18<i>th</i>.—I have been so busy ever since Irais and Minora left +that I can hardly believe the spring is here, and the garden hurrying on its +green and flowered petticoat—only its petticoat as yet, for though the +underwood is a fairyland of tender little leaves, the trees above are still +quite bare. +</p> + +<p> +February was gone before I well knew that it had come, so deeply was I engaged +in making hot-beds, and having them sown with petunias, verbenas, and nicotina +affinis; while no less than thirty are dedicated solely to vegetables, it +having been borne in upon me lately that vegetables must be interesting things +to grow, besides possessing solid virtues not given to flowers, and that I +might as well take the orchard and kitchen garden under my wing. So I have +rushed in with all the zeal of utter inexperience, and my February evenings +were spent poring over gardening books, and my days in applying the freshly +absorbed wisdom. Who says that February is a dull, sad, slow month in the +country? It was of the cheerfullest, swiftest description here, and its mild +days enabled me to get on beautifully with the digging and manuring, and filled +my rooms with snowdrops. The longer I live the greater is my respect and +affection for manure in all its forms, and already, though the year is so +young, a considerable portion of its pin-money has been spent on artificial +manure. The Man of Wrath says he never met a young woman who spent her money +that way before; I remarked that it must be nice to have an original wife; and +he retorted that the word original hardly described me, and that the word +eccentric was the one required. Very well, I suppose I am eccentric, since even +my husband says so; but if my eccentricities are of such a practical nature as +to result later in the biggest cauliflowers and tenderest lettuce in Prussia, +why then he ought to be the first to rise up and call me blessed. +</p> + +<p> +I sent to England for vegetable-marrow seeds, as they are not grown here, and +people try and make boiled cucumbers take their place; but boiled cucumbers are +nasty things, and I don’t see why marrows should not do here perfectly well. +These, and primrose-roots, are the English contributions to my garden. I +brought over the roots in a tin box last time I came from England, and am +anxious to see whether they will consent to live here. Certain it is that they +don’t exist in the Fatherland, so I can only conclude the winter kills them, +for surely, if such lovely things would grow, they never would have been +overlooked. Irais is deeply interested in the experiment; she reads so many +English books, and has heard so much about primroses, and they have got so +mixed up in her mind with leagues, and dames, and Disraelis, that she longs to +see this mysterious political flower, and has made me promise to telegraph when +it appears, and she will come over. Bur they are not going to do anything this +year, and I only hope those cold days did not send them off to the Paradise of +flowers. I am afraid their first impression of Germany was a chilly one. +</p> + +<p> +Irais writes about once a week, and inquires after the garden and the babies, +and announces her intention of coming back as soon as the numerous relations +staying with her have left,—“which they won’t do,” she wrote the other day, +“until the first frosts nip them off, when they will disappear like belated +dahlias—double ones of course, for single dahlias are too charming to be +compared to relations. I have every sort of cousin and uncle and aunt here, and +here they have been ever since my husband’s birthday—not the same ones exactly, +but I get so confused that I never know where one ends and the other begins. My +husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I am left +at their mercy. I wish I had crops to go and look at—I should be grateful even +for one, and would look at it from morning till night, and quite stare it out +of countenance, sooner than stay at home and have the truth told me by +enigmatic aunts. Do you know my Aunt Bertha? she, in particular, spends her +time propounding obscure questions for my solution. I get so tired and worried +trying to guess the answers, which are always truths supposed to be good for me +to hear. ‘Why do you wear your hair on your forehead?’ she asks,—and that sets +me off wondering why I <i>do</i> wear it on my forehead, and what she wants to +know for, or whether she does know and only wants to know if I will answer +truthfully. ‘I am sure I don’t know, aunt,’ I say meekly, after puzzling over +it for ever so long; ‘perhaps my maid knows. Shall I ring and ask her?’ And +then she informs me that I wear it so to hide an ugly line she says I have down +the middle of my forehead, and that betokens a listless and discontented +disposition. Well, if she knew, what did she ask me for? Whenever I am with +them they ask me riddles like that, and I simply lead a <i>dog’s</i> life. Oh, +my dear, relations are like drugs,—useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if +taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, +and the truly wise avoid them.” +</p> + +<p> +From Minora I have only had one communication since her departure, in which she +thanked me for her pleasant visit, and said she was sending me a bottle of +English embrocation to rub on my bruises after skating; that it was wonderful +stuff, and she was sure I would like it; and that it cost two marks, and would +I send stamps. I pondered long over this. Was it a parting hit, intended as +revenge for our having laughed at her? Was she personally interested in the +sale of embrocation? Or was it merely Minora’s idea of a graceful return for my +hospitality? As for bruises, nobody who skates decently regards it as a +bruise-producing exercise, and whenever there were any they were all on Minora; +but she did happen to turn round once, I remember, just as I was in the act of +tumbling down for the first and only time, and her delight was but thinly +veiled by her excessive solicitude and sympathy. I sent her the stamps, +received the bottle, and resolved to let her drop out of my life; I had been a +good Samaritan to her at the request of my friend, but the best of Samaritans +resents the offer of healing oil for his own use. But why waste a thought on +Minora at Easter, the real beginning of the year in defiance of calendars. She +belongs to the winter that is past, to the darkness that is over, and has no +part or lot in the life I shall lead for the next six months. Oh, I could dance +and sing for joy that the spring is here! What a resurrection of beauty there +is in my garden, and of brightest hope in my heart! The whole of this radiant +Easter day I have spent out of doors, sitting at first among the windflowers +and celandines, and then, later, walking with the babies to the Hirschwald, to +see what the spring had been doing there; and the afternoon was so hot that we +lay a long time on the turf, blinking up through the leafless branches of the +silver birches at the soft, fat little white clouds floating motionless in the +blue. We had tea on the grass in the sun, and when it began to grow late, and +the babies were in bed, and all the little wind-flowers folded up for the +night, I still wandered in the green paths, my heart full of happiest +gratitude. It makes one very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth +of beauty and perfection <i>anonymously</i> lavished, and to think of the +infinite meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we are if +they are not promptly and properly appreciated. I do sincerely trust that the +benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may by degrees be more +deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and cheerfulness, just +like the happy flowers I so much love. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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