But it was the book-binder, Lesser, a Moravian, who was our special favourite, and every week we spent several hours learning his craft of him, till we were ourselves able to do some very pretty work. I have still books in my possession, which I bound myself, fifty years ago, and which are in perfectly good condition now. It would be a good thing if all children were taught something of the sort, to amuse them in their play-hours, instead of letting them run wild. There would be no constraint needed; it would be merely giving a sensible and useful outlet for those energies with which all children are naturally brimming over, and which, misdirected, too often lead them into mischief. We were always encouraged to look on at all events, whenever there were workmen in the house or grounds, and we watched them with the greatest
interest, perhaps observing and learning more than was thought. And we often talked to them too, so that there was really nothing so very much to wonder at in those “Songs of the Crafts,” which I was one day to write, nor in the intimate knowledge of each special kind of work which they revealed. Quite young we thus learned to use our hands, and they were never idle. I could give first-rate sewing lessons; here in Roumania even I have taught many a young girl to embroider. But it was the smith above all whom we were never tired of watching at his work. Everything pertaining to the forge has a special fascination for children—the bellows, and the tongs, and the sparks that fly, and the blackened faces—it is all too delightful! One should allow children to familiarise themselves with all these things, with the beauty and dignity of human toil in its every aspect, that they may learn to have the right feeling of respect both for the work itself, and for the workers.
Nor can one too early impress on the minds of children the debt of gratitude they owe to all those whose lives are passed in their service. The young can certainly not be expected to realise all the unselfishness—the utter forgetfulness and disregard of self, I should rather say,—which are implied in the term of “good and faithful servant.” But they can be taught to show thoughtfulness and consideration towards all with whom they are brought into daily contact in these relations.
Servants of the type of those whom I have tried to describe here, are perhaps becoming more and more rare. In any case, where we do come across them, we must look upon them as a gift from heaven, and it is in heaven, too, that they will have their reward. For no earthly master, however thoroughly he may recognise their merit, can ever hope to requite or repay such services as theirs. My little tribute of words is poor indeed to express the magnitude of such a debt. May they have found their reward in a better world, united to the master they served so faithfully on earth!
CHAPTER VI
[FANNY LAVATER]
Thisangel in human form was a grand-niece of the celebrated Swiss philosopher and physiognomist, Johann Caspar Levater. She was one of a family of ten children, the father a member of the little French-speaking Protestant community at Hanau, and the mother an Englishwoman.
When Fräulein Lavater came as governess to my mother the latter was just six years old, and she herself a mere girl of eighteen, with big brown eyes and black hair. She was, however, already remarkably well-read in the literature of several languages, and this she always declared she owed in a great measure to the circumstance that the nonsense called children’s books did not exist in her childhood, she and her brothers and sisters being consequently obliged to have recourse for such amusement as they sought in reading, to the little collection of the best poets and prose-writers, of whose works their mother’s library was composed. It was thus that she had read nearly all Shakespeare’s plays when she was eight years old. In order to indulge their taste for reading, without always having to be guided by the choice of their elders, these young people had, she told us, discovered a most ingenious method of quietly pushing open a panel of the bookcase, making an aperture just wide enough to introduce the smallest arm among them, with which several coveted volumes would be fetched down from the shelves, and carried off to some safe hiding-place, to be brought out and devoured at leisure afterwards.
It was not considered necessary in those days to pass a public examination in order to give a proof of one’s knowledge and abilities, and in the person of our “Fräulchen,” as she was affectionately called, we had a striking example of the high degree of intellectual culture that may be attained by careful and intelligent home training and a liberal course of general reading. It was in the latter respect, above all, that the superiority of independent study over the modern cramming system, was in this instance so abundantly proved. A very few minutes’ conversation sufficed to show how much more solid information was possessed by the quiet little bookworm than by many a paragon of the latest methods of instruction, however much the latter might be advertised by the diploma conferred on her by the State. It would almost seem indeed as if no time were left for original thought or true mental culture in the schemes of our newest educational oracles, which apparently aim at reducing all mankind to one dull level of mediocrity, forcing all into the selfsame groove, and trying to make one pattern serve for all of us, utterly regardless both of our aptitudes and our requirements. I fancy that before long there must come a reaction from this unlucky craze, and that women at any rate will once more content themselves with cultivating their mental powers to the utmost, feeling therein a higher satisfaction than is to be derived from the noisier successes of a public examination.