In and Around Berlin | Page 3

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 colored 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