FAMILY LIFE
The matter of much eating and drinking had first to be, if possible,
disposed of. It was exacting and the most important affair. Kirtley
did not want to be discourteous or appear unappreciative. He had
come to Germany to do as the superior Germans do. His digestive
tract was on the narrow-gage American plan. Theirs was broad-gage,
with their surpassing organisms.
At the Buchers Gard had manfully to face six meals a day. Must he be
swamped in order to put the desirable adipose tissue on his bones?
By all the laws of American dieting and Prohibition the German race
should have been destroyed by indigestion and drunkenness centuries
ago. But here they were more flourishing than ever--the generally
acknowledged nation of masters!
And his bed--the German bed. He could not remember whether Mark
Twain ever described it, but he should have. Gard's haven of rest
appeared to lie on solid foundations. It was constructed with German
stability. There were as many blankets in summer as in winter.
Worst of all, two immense feather pillows lay across its middle. The
only place for them seemed to be on his sorely tried stomach or on
the floor. In a month an attack of insomnia resulted. For hours at
night he lay awake, listening to the frequent rain on the roof or
the wind whining Teutonically in the leaves of his linden.
In his initial troubles and anxieties he went to a German doctor.
This spectacled wise man prescribed more beer. German physicians
seemed to be in league with the brewers. Gard was of the kind who
would suffer rather than complain. So he worried along.
He did not fall in with the urgent, conscientious assumption of
the Buchers that he would at once want to begin driving away at
"lessons." His hosts reminded him openly at times that his
prospective teachers were still waiting, still recommending
themselves. Responsibility was evidently felt for his programme
of work. He realized that he was somewhat disappointing, for
instruction, education, is such a pushing, unceasing business
with the Germans. It may be said they never finish school.
Yet he wished first to take a good look at the historic city, its
celebrated art treasures. He wanted to make a few excursions in the
environs before the winter set in with its dampness and gloom.
Besides, he never before had had a chance at fine opera, at fine
symphonies and music recitals.
"But ought not Herr Kirtley at least begin with the free evening
lectures?"--with which Dresden shone through the illuminations of
many profound and oracular professors in lofty pulpits. He submitted
that his German was too feeble of wing to enable him to soar into
the heights of such wisdom.
The zest in Germany for learning and accomplishments was truly
wonderful to him. Half his life of instruction now quickly seemed to
have been idling. As far as industriousness, drilling, well-defined
ambitiousness, were concerned, the young German had many advantages.
The modest Bucher household was run educationally with the dynamic
regularity of military establishments. It was, of course, no
exception. Lessons and lectures commenced mornings at eight, with
Sundays partly included. This routine begins with the German child
at six.
Evenings, too, had their busy duties. No baseball, no tennis, no
lazy days of swimming and fishing. Playtime was spent in martial
exercise, in evenings at the opera or seeing the classical dramas of
all races and epochs on the stage. Gard became aware that the Bucher
children had carried six or seven studies at an age when he had
thought he was abused, overburdened, with four.
Besides, their courses were more mature. And yet he had come to
Germany, despite Rebner's eulogiums of the Germans, with the
complacent idea that, as he was the respectable American average,
he could look the other youth of the world in the face unashamed,
asking no odds.
Little Ernst at fifteen was studying, among numerous things,
philosophy and didactic religion. The way he could cite facts
and carry on a discussion on these and similar subjects!
"What part do philosophy and religion play in our system of
instruction for the young?" Gard asked himself with a deprecatory
smile. "Is it a miracle that the Germans can teach us desirable
knowledge and morals, as Rebner insists?"
Kirtley readily perceived that he had scarcely sufficient precise
information to discuss intelligently general topics with this boy.
The latter could always quote some acknowledged and ponderous
authority--German, of course, and all the more awe-inspiring, but of
whom Gard had not heard. For it usually came down to the question,
Who are your authorities? He rarely could tell who his were. They
promptly faded away before all the weight and definiteness Ernst
could bring to bear.
While Rudolph and Ernst were so far along as a result of a busy
adolescence, Fräulein Elsa, as Gard discovered, was in her way not
behind. She knew English and French pretty well and was quite an
accomplished musician, able to play from memory on the winged Pleyel
almost whole books of classic music. She could paint fairly well in
oil and was now taking up etching with enthusiastic assiduity. She
could sew, cook, run the house. In brief, her days were as full as
her brothers' in propelling tasks. _She_, apparently, did not have
"boys on the brain."
Kirtley threw up his hands in imitation of his venerated professor.
This was just an ordinary German miss. He had scarcely dreamed of
such things in a girl.
It was all illustrated by Gard's piano playing, which was cheap and
meaningless strumming. He could rattle through a lot of popular
tunes and stumble through a few short simple school-girl salon
pieces. The Buchers were a real orchestra. With the ladies at the
piano, the old Herr at the flute, Ernst at the violin and Rudi at
the 'cello, they could play a dozen programmes and furnish enjoyment
for the listener.
And always salutary, enlightened, cultivated music. The house
reverberated with a multitude of choice enduring arias, sung, hummed
or whistled, and this made Villa Elsa almost take on a charm for
Gard. He had not known how his melodious soul was starved.
Why should not the Germans be expected to have noble souls with all
the wealth of distinguished, inspiring music flowing through their
lives? Should it not give them necessarily a strong, desirable
spirit, fortify them in healthy aspirations, encourage them to get
the best out of existence? This incentive and pleasureableness,
making for the good, the true and the beautiful--must it not
contribute a deep richness and righteousness to the Teuton heart?
And is it to be wondered at--the Germans' big supply of red blood?
For the strength of the Teuton's body, Gard observed, was built up,
maintained, in equal measure with his other training. The military
drilling and strenuous gymnastics provided him with straight
shoulders, a full chest, a sound spine, strength of limb--in short,
good, presentable health.
The Bucher fireside had no doctor, no adored specialists, hanging
about. It had been taught to handle simple complaints itself.
Medical and surgical bills did not upset its modest financial
equilibrium. The family were extraordinarily well. Their brawn,
energetically looked after as well as the brain, accounted partly
for their marvelous appetites.
So nothing seemed to Gard to be missed in this potent scheme of
instruction and _Kultur_.