"I must confess, my dear Ludwig, that I laughed heartily over
your last letter,--that is, over the lecture at the end of it.
Nevertheless, you are right, and I will pay it all heed.
"So you do not want me to send you 'philosophic
observations,'--'thot we doa wer awnselves,' our peasants
say,--but a minute description of my daily life. Listen, then,
you dear snappy old friend, to the record of my days.
"Whilst you were writing the letters from Suez and Aden, which
only arrived the day before yesterday, in the midst of the
tropical verdure and sunshine which they describe, our northern
spring was announcing its approach, as usual, with wind and
rain. But now it is here in all its beauty, and I enjoy it as
much as possible in the open air.
"Before our first breakfast, which is really the only time I
have entirely at my own disposal, I walk or ride; after it I
always ride with my grandfather; and when, as is frequently the
case, Aunt Thekla and Magelone either pay visits or receive
them, I sit with the old Herr in the balcony of his study,
which projects directly into the tops of the lindens. We follow
your wanderings on the map, or I read aloud to him in some book
of travels, which brings us near you in spirit. But late in the
evening, when we have all said 'good-night' to one another, I
slip out once more into the park, to listen to the rustle of
the trees and to the 'songstress of the night,' the
nightingale, trilling among the shrubbery on the shores of the
little lake.
"You see, grandpapa and the spring are almost my only society,
and it is very pleasant. After Johann Leopold left us, by
grandpapa's desire I made several visits among the neighbours.
They received me courteously, returned my visit, and invited me
again, but--perhaps it is my own fault--I do not feel quite
comfortable among them. Grandpapa's dictatorial, almost
menacing tone in which he introduced me as 'my grand-daughter
Johanna' seems to ring in my ears, and I ask myself how I
should have been received if I had presented myself without
this 'open sesame,'--only bearing my father's name, of which I
am so proud. I may possibly be doing some of these people
injustice, but not all of them. At any rate, my mistrust of
them serves to alienate me from them mentally, and therefore it
is best to mingle with them as little as possible. I do not
know whether grandpapa is aware of this feeling on my part,
but, at all events, he lets me do as I please.
"May 18.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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