



Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jeannie Howse and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net






       *       *       *       *       *

    +-----------------------------------------------------------+
    | Transcriber's Note:                                       |
    |                                                           |
    | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has     |
    | been preserved.                                           |
    |                                                           |
    | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this  |
    | text. For a complete list, please see the end of this     |
    | document.                                                 |
    |                                                           |
    +-----------------------------------------------------------+

       *       *       *       *       *




IN AND AROUND BERLIN



BY

MINERVA BRACE NORTON





CHICAGO
A.C. MCCLURG AND COMPANY
1889




COPYRIGHT
BY A.C. MCCLURG AND COMPANY
A.D. 1889




TO MY HUSBAND,

WHOSE GENEROUS SYMPATHY MADE POSSIBLE THESE PAGES;

To my Countrymen and Countrywomen

WHO HAVE VISITED BERLIN;

TO THOSE WHO HOPE TO GO THERE,

AND TO THE

LARGER NUMBER OF ARMCHAIR TRAVELLERS,

I Dedicate this Book.

M.B.N.




CONTENTS.


CHAP.                                                        PAGE
   I. FIRST IMPRESSIONS                                         9

  II. FAMILY AND SOCIAL LIFE                                   20

 III. EDUCATION                                                51

  IV. CHURCHES                                                 79

   V. MUSEUMS                                                 103

  VI. THE GERMAN REICHSTAG AND THE PRUSSIAN PARLIAMENT        125

 VII. PROMINENT PERSONAGES                                    133

VIII. THE EMPEROR'S NINETIETH BIRTHDAY                        159

  IX. STREETS, PARKS, CEMETERIES, AND PUBLIC BUILDINGS        179

   X. PALACES                                                 195

  XI. THE HOMES OF THE HUMBOLDTS                              209

 XII. PHILANTHROPIC WORK                                      221

XIII. AROUND BERLIN                                           249




IN AND AROUND BERLIN.


I.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.


It was seven o'clock of a gray November morning when we arrived in
Berlin for our first residence abroad. The approach to the city
reminded us of the newer parts of New York, and we found that the
population was about the same. But here the resemblance ceases. New
York is the metropolis of a great nation,--the heart whence arterial
supplies go forth, and to which all returning channels converge; the
cosmopolitan centre of a New World. Berlin is the increasingly
important capital of the German Empire,--growing rapidly, but still
the royal impersonation of Prussia and the Hohenzollerns; seated in
something of mediaeval costume and quiet beside the river Spree; as
content to cast a satisfied glance backward to Frederick the Great and
the Electors of Brandenburg as to look forward to imperial supremacy
among the Great Powers, and the championship of continental Protestant
Europe.

There is one continuous thread woven through the old history and the
new, and this appeared in the first hour of our stay. Everywhere on
the streets the one thing most strange to our American eyes was the
number of striking military uniforms mingled with the more sober garb
of civilians. Officers of fine form and gentlemanly bearing, in
uniforms of dark blue with scarlet trimmings and long, dragging,
rattling swords, were commanding the evolutions of infantry in the
main streets; while frequent glimpses of gold-laced light blue or
scarlet jackets or of plumed and helmeted hussars animated the scene
on the crowded sidewalks. Germany is, as it has been from the
beginning, a military power.

We drove first to the home of an American friend. We were not prepared
for the four long flights of stairs up which we were directed by the
porter on the ground floor. "What reverses of fortune have come to
A.," thought we, "that she lives in an attic!" The tenement was a good
one, to be sure, when we found it,--large and lofty apartments with
many windows, commanding a fine view. But to one unused to many
stairs, and weakened by continuous illness in a long sea-voyage, the
exhaustion of that first ascent was something to be remembered. It
was, however, but the precursor of hundreds of similar feats, which
our residence involved, as nearly all families live up several flights
of stairs. Only once did we see an elevator in Germany. In the elegant
hotel known as the Kaiserhof, the sojourning-place of princes,
diplomatists, and statesmen, we took our seats in a commodious
elevator, rejoiced at the thought of such an American way of getting
upstairs. It was fully five minutes before we reached the moderate
elevation of the corridor on which our rooms opened; the liveried and
intelligent official in charge, evidently a personage of importance,
meanwhile replying to our queries and enjoying our evident surprise at
the slow motion, until we forgot our annoyance in the interest of the
conversation which ensued before we reached our destination. Once I
was toiling up the four flights which led to the residence of a
cultivated German lady, in company with the hostess. "Oh," I said
breathlessly, "would there were elevators in Germany!"

"Yes," courteously responded the lady; adding, with a resigned sigh,
the conclusive words which indicated contentment with her lot, "but it
is not ze custom."

It was late in the season, and our lodgings were not engaged in
advance. Americans in increasing numbers make Berlin a winter
residence, and by October the most desirable _pensions_ generally have
their rooms engaged. By the kind offices of our friend, our famishing
party were provided with the rolls and coffee which compose the
continental breakfast, and a fortunate entrance was, after much
seeking, obtained for us to a most desirable boarding-house. Our own
apartment was a large corner room, with immense windows looking north
and east, and, like nearly all rooms in Berlin houses, connected by
double doors with the apartments on either side. A fire was built
before we took possession, but it was two days before we ceased to
shiver. We looked for the stove of which we had heard. More than one
of the five senses were called into requisition to determine which
article of furniture was entitled to that designation. Across one
corner of the room stood a tall white monument composed of glazed
tiles laid in mortar, built into the room as a chimney might have
been, with a hidden flue in the rear connecting it with the wall. A
drab cornice and plaster ornaments of the same color set off the four
or five feet above the mantel which surrounded it, and a brass door,
about ten inches by twelve, was in the middle front of the part below.
On the mantel were disposed sundry ornaments, including vases of dried
grasses, and the hand could always be held upon the tiles against
which they stood. In a small fireplace within this unique mass of
tiles and mortar, the housemaid would place a dozen pieces of
coal-cake once or at most twice a day, and after allowing a few
minutes for the kindling to set it aglow, would close and lock the
triple door, and the fire was made for twenty-four hours. In two or
three hours after the lighting of the fire, the temperature of the
room, if other conditions were favorable, might be slightly raised. To
raise it five to ten degrees would require from six to ten hours.

In response to our request to the landlady for an addition of cold
meat or steak to the coffee and rolls of the breakfast, and for more
warmth in the room, accompanied by an expression of willingness to
make additional payment for the same, the reply, given in a courteous
manner, was that Americans lived in rooms much too warm, and ate too
much meat, and that it would be for their health in Germany to conform
to the German customs. However, some spasmodic efforts were made, for
a season, to comply with the requests, which before long were wholly
discontinued; and the strangers learned the wisdom of accommodating
themselves "in Rome" to the ways of the Romans. This, however, was not
accomplished without continued suffering. The meagre "first
breakfast," served about half-past eight o'clock, was supplemented by
a "second breakfast" of a cup of chocolate or beef tea, at about
eleven, to those who were then in the house and made known their
desire for it. But the days were short. Berlin is about six hundred
miles nearer the north pole than New York, in the latitude of Labrador
and the southern part of Hudson's Bay. The climate is milder only
because the Gulf Stream kindly sends its warmth over all Europe,
which lies in much higher latitudes than we are wont to think.
Consequently the days in winter are much shorter than ours, as in
summer they are longer. All the mid-winter daylight of Berlin is
between the hours of eight A.M. and four P.M. With dinner at two
o'clock, from which we rose about three, there was too little light
remaining for visits to museums and other places of interest, so that
the chief sightseeing of the day must be put into the hours between
nine and two o'clock, often far from residence or restaurants; so the
work of the day must be done on insufficient food, and the prevailing
physical sensation was that of being an animated empty cask. We thus
reached a settled conviction that however well the continental
breakfast may serve the needs of Germans, with their slow ways of
working, and their heavy suppers of sausage, black bread, and beer,
late at night, an American home for Americans temporarily in Berlin is
a consummation much to be wished.

It is almost with a feeling of despair that many a woman first unpacks
her trunk in the Berlin apartment which, according to general custom,
is to serve her for sleeping-room, breakfast-room, study, and
reception-room. In a lengthened sojourn, in hotels, _pensions_, and
private residences, I never saw a closet opening from such an
apartment. Indeed, there were, in the houses I visited, no closets of
any kind; unless an unlighted, unventilated cubic space in the middle
of the house or near the kitchen--the upper half often devoted to
sleeping room for domestics, and the lower to a general rendezvous of
odds and ends--might be dignified with that name. A statement which I
once ventured in conversation, as to the closets opening from nearly
every room of an American house, was received with a look of
incredulity and wonder. Neither did I see a real bureau in Berlin. A
poor substitute was a portable piece of furniture, often quite
ornamental, which opened by doors, exposing all the shelves whenever
an article on any one of them was wanted. Here must be kept bonnets,
hats, gloves, ribbons, laces, underwear, and all the thousand
accumulations of the toilet; while a cramped "wardrobe" was the
receptacle of shoes, cloaks, and dresses, hung perhaps three or four
or five deep on the half-dozen wooden pegs within. Bathrooms were the
rare exceptions. As a rule, bathing must be done with a sponge and
cold water, in one's private apartment, where are no faucets, drains,
or set bowls, but the ordinary wash-bowl, pitcher, and jar. Evidently
German civilization does not rate the bath very high among the
comforts of life.

An essential part of the furniture in the kind of apartment I am
describing, is a screen to stand before each bed and wash-stand. The
beds are invariably single, two or more being placed in a room when
needed, the screens, by day, transforming the room into a parlor.
There are no carpets. On the oiled or painted wooden floors rugs are
placed before the beds, before the sofa, and under the table which
always stands before it. One luxury is seldom wanting,--a good
writing-desk, with pens and ink ready for use. It is no trouble to a
German hostess to increase or diminish the number of beds in a room,
the narrow bedsteads being carried with ease through the double doors,
from room to room, as convenience requires.

Pictures are on the walls,--not often remarkable as works of art, but
most frequently stimulants to love of country,--portraits of the
Kaiser and the Crown Prince, and battle scenes in which glory is
reflected on the Prussian arms. Every window is double; the two outer
vertical halves opening on hinges outward, and the inner opening in
the same manner into the room. Graceful lace drapery is the rule, over
plain cotton hangings or Venetian blinds.

The arrangement of the bedding is peculiar. Over a set of wire springs
is laid the mattress, in a closely fitting white case, buttoned, tied,
or laced together at one end. This case takes the place of an under
sheet. The feather pillow is in a plain slip of white cotton,
similarly fastened. Over the whole a blanket or comfortable is laid,
securely enfolded in another white case, which also serves instead of
an upper sheet. Over this is the feather bed, usually encased in
 print, sometimes of bright colors. Under this one always
sleeps. Over the bed, from low head-board to foot-board, is stretched
by day the uppermost covering. Ours was of maroon cotton flannel,
bordered in front by a flounce intended to be ornamental. The custom
is to furnish clean cases and pillow-slips once a month, and it is
difficult to secure more frequent changes of bed-linen.

Ventilation is something of which the Germans are particularly afraid.
The impure air of schools, halls, churches, and other places of
assemblage is dreadful, and a draught is regarded as the messenger of
death. When our landlady found that we were in the habit of sleeping
with our windows open, most emphatic remonstrance was made, with the
assurance that this would never do in Berlin. However, like the
drinking of water, against which also warnings are customary, the
breathing of fresh air was to us followed by no harmful results.

These differences in habits and customs of household life, like the
sounds of a strange language, affect the traveller unpleasantly at
first. But differences in national customs are natural and inevitable,
and one gradually becomes accustomed to them, and enabled to live a
happy life in spite of them, as appreciation grows when acquaintance
has made one familiar with many interesting and excellent aspects of
existence here.





II.

FAMILY AND SOCIAL LIFE.


Holidays and birthdays are more scrupulously and formally observed in
Germany than with us. There are cakes and lighted candles and flowers
for the one whose birthday makes him for the time the most important
personage in the family, and who sits in holiday dress in the
reception-room, to receive the calls and congratulations of friends.
Those who cannot call send letters and presents, which are displayed,
with those received from the family, on a table devoted to the
purpose; and the array is often quite extensive. The presents are
seldom extravagant, consisting largely of the ornamental handiwork of
friends and of useful articles of clothing for common use.

A genuine German family festival on Christmas eve is a pleasant thing
to see. We accepted with pleasure the invitation of Frau B---- and her
family, to be present at theirs. In a large _salon_ adjoining that
where the table was laid for supper, was another long table spread
with a white cloth. Toward the farther end of the table stood a tall
Christmas-tree, decked with various simple ornaments; and the candles
on it were lighted with a little ceremony, the chubby granddaughter of
three years pointing her bare arm and uplifted forefinger to the tree,
and reciting a short poem appropriate to the occasion, as we entered
the room, about half-past seven o'clock. Then the beautiful and
winning child found her toys, her lovely wax doll and its cradle, and
another doll of rubber, small and homely, on which, after the fashion
of little mothers, she imprinted her most affectionate kisses.
Suddenly the room was radiant with a contagious happiness. "The little
Fraeulein," daughter of the hostess, just engaged by cable to a
gentleman in America, had found his picture, wreathed with fresh and
fragrant rosebuds, among her presents; and the smiles and blushes
chased each other over her face, as the engagement was thus announced
by her mother to the assembled guests. She answered her
congratulations by more blushes and smiles, laying her hand on her
heart, and saying with true German frankness, "Oh, I am so happy!" No
presents hung on the tree, but those intended for each person were in
a group beside a plate of cakes and bonbons, with a card bearing the
name. Each of the company found his own, delicately assisted by the
hostess and her daughters. Then the servants were called in, to find
their presents on side tables, to receive and express good wishes and
thanks, and to join in the general joy of the household over the
engagement. After supper in the dining-room, we talked awhile, there
was music from the piano, then the married daughter and her family
withdrew with kind "good-nights;" and before a late hour all the other
guests had done the same, not, however, until the national airs of
America and of Scotland had been sung by all present, in honor of the
guests from these countries.

Private hospitality is kind and open, but so far as our observation
went, conducted within certain specified limits seldom overstepped.
Order of precedence is carefully observed, and more honor is shown to
age than with us. The best seat in the drawing-room is the sofa. A
single guest would never be offered any other place, and among a
number the eldest or the most honored would be invariably conducted
there. Hence no one would venture to take this place of honor
uninvited. Sometimes one is secretly glad of not being invited to
crowd behind the table which usually stands, covered with a spread,
inconveniently close before the sofa, and of having instead a chair,
with a better support for the back.

One is expected to bow to the hostess and to each guest on coming to
the table, and also on leaving it. Odd as this seems at