|
FIRST YEAR, AGE ELEVEN TO TWELVE SECOND YEAR, AGE TWELVE TO THIRTEEN THIRD YEAR, AGE THIRTEEN TO FOURTEEN |
THE best
preface to this journal written by a young girl belonging to the upper middle
class is a letter by Sigmund Freud dated April 27, 1915, a letter wherein the
distinguished Viennese psychologist testifies to the permanent value of the
document:
"This
diary is a gem. Never before, I believe, has anything been written enabling us
to see so clearly into the soul of a young girl, belonging to our social and
cultural stratum, during the years of puberal development. We are shown how the
sentiments pass from the simple egoism of childhood to attain maturity; how the
relationships to parents and other members of the family first shape
themselves, and how they gradually become more serious and more intimate; how
friendships are formed and broken. We are shown the dawn of love, feeling out
towards its first objects. Above all, we are shown how the mystery of the
sexual life first presses itself vaguely on the attention, and then takes entire possession of the growing intelligence, so that
the child suffers under the load of secret knowledge but gradually becomes
enabled to shoulder the burden. Of all these things we have a description at
once so charming, so serious, and so artless, that it cannot fail to be of
supreme interest to educationists and psychologists.
"It
is certainly incumbent on you to publish the diary. All students of my own
writings will be grateful to you."
In
preparing these pages for the press, the editor has toned down nothing, has
added nothing, and has suppressed nothing. The only alterations she has made
have been such as were essential to conceal the identity of the writer and of
other persons mentioned in the document. Consequently, surnames, Christian
names, and names of places, have been changed. These modifications have enabled
the original author of the diary to allow me to place it at the free disposal
of serious readers.
No attempt
has been made to correct trifling faults in grammar and other inelegancies of
style. For the most part, these must not be regarded as the expression of a
child's incapacity for the control of language. Rather must they be looked upon
as manifestations of affective trends, as errors in functioning brought about
by the influence of the Unconscious.
THE EDITOR.
FIRST YEAR
July 12,
19 . . . Hella and I are writing a diary. We both agreed that when we went to
the high school we would write a diary every day. Dora keeps a diary too, but
she gets furious if I look at it. I call Helene "Hella," and she
calls me "Rita;" Helene and Grete are so vulgar. Dora has taken to
calling herself "Thea," but I go on calling her "Dora." She
says that little children (she means me and Hella) ought not to keep a diary.
She says they will write such a lot of nonsense. No more than in hers and
Lizzi's.
July 13th. Really we were not to begin writing until after the holidays,
but since we are both going away, we are beginning now. Then we shall know what
we have been doing in the holidays.
The day
before yesterday we had an entrance examination, it was very easy, in dictation
I made only 1 mistake—writing ihn without h. The mistress
said that didn't matter, I had only made a slip. That is quite true, for I know
well enough that ihn has an h in it. We were both dressed in
white with rose-coloured ribbons, and everyone believed we were sisters or at
least cousins. It would be very nice to have a cousin. But it's still nicer to
have a friend, for we can tell one another everything.
July 14th.
The mistress was very kind. Because of her Hella and I are really sorry that we
are not going to a middle school. Then every day before lessons began we could
have had a talk with her in the class-room. But we're awfully pleased because
of the other girls. One is more important when one goes to the high school
instead of only to the middle school. That is why the girls are in such a rage.
"They are bursting with pride" (that's what my sister says of me and
Hella, but it is not true). "Our two students" said the mistress when
we came away. She told us to write to her from the country. I shall.
July 15th.
Lizzi, Hella's sister, is not so horrid as Dora, she is always so nice! To-day
she gave each of us at least ten chocolate-creams. It's true Hella often says
to me: "You don't know her, what a beast she can be. Your sister is
generally very nice to me." Certainly it is very funny the way in which
she always speaks of us as "the little ones" or "the
children," as if she had never been a child herself, and indeed a much
littler one than we are. Besides we're just the same as she is now. She is in
the fourth class and we are in the first.
To-morrow
we are going to Kaltenbach in
July 19th.
It's awfully hard to write every day in the holidays. Everything is so new and
one has no time to write. We are living in a big house in the forest. Dora
bagged the front veranda straight off for her own writing. At the back of the
house there are such swarms of horrid little flies; everything is black with
flies. I do hate flies and such things. I'm not going to put up with being
driven out of the front veranda. I won't have it. Besides, Father said:
"Don't quarrel, children!" (Children to her too!!) He's
quite right. She puts on such airs because she'll be fourteen in October.
"The verandas are common property," said Father. Father's always so
just. He never lets Dora lord it over me, but Mother often makes a favourite of
Dora. I'm writing to Hella to-day. She's not written to me yet.
July 21st.
Hella has written to me, 4 pages, and such a jolly letter. I don't know what I
should do without her! Perhaps she will come here in August or perhaps I shall
go to stay with her. I think I would rather go to stay with her. I like paying
long visits. Father said: "We'll see," and that means he'll let me
go. When Father and Mother say We'll see it really means Yes; but they won't
say "yes" so that if it does not come off one can't say that they
haven't kept their word. Father really lets me do anything I like, but not
Mother. Still, if I practice my piano regularly perhaps she'll let me go. I
must go for a walk.
July 22nd.
Hella wrote that I positively must write every day, for one must keep a promise
and we swore to write every day. I. . . .
July 23rd.
It's awful. One has no time. Yesterday when I wanted to write the room had to
be cleaned and D. was in the arbour. Before that I had not written a single
word and in the front veranda all my pages blew away. We write on loose pages.
Hella thinks it's better because then one does not have to tear anything out.
But we have promised one another to throw nothing away and not to tear anything
up. Why should we? One can tell a friend everything. A pretty friend if one
couldn't. Yesterday when I wanted to go into the arbour Dora glared at me
savagely, saying What do you want? As if the arbour belonged to her, just as
she wanted to bag the front veranda all for herself. She's too sickening.
Yesterday
afternoon we were on the Kolber-Kogel. It was lovely. Father was awfully jolly
and we pelted one another with pine-cones. It was jolly. I threw one at Dora
and it hit her on her padded bust. She let out such a yell and I said out loud
You couldn't feel it there. As she went by she said Pig! It doesn't
matter, for I know she understood me and that what I said was true. I should
like to know what she writes about every day to Erika and what she
writes in her diary. Mother was out of sorts and stayed at home.
July 24th.
To-day is Sunday. I do love Sundays. Father says: You children have Sundays
every day. That's quite true in the holidays, but not at other times. The
peasants and their wives and children are all very gay, wearing Tyrolese
dresses, just like those I have seen in the theatre. We are wearing our white
dresses to-day, and I have made a great cherrystain upon mine, not on purpose, but
because I sat down upon some fallen cherries. So this afternoon when we go out
walking I must wear my pink dress. All the better, for I don't care to be
dressed exactly the same as Dora. I don't see why everyone should know that we
are sisters. Let people think we are cousins. She does not like it either; I
wish I knew why.
Oswald is
coming in a week, and I am awfully pleased. He is older than Dora, but I can
always get on with him. Hella writes that she finds it dull without me; so do
I.
July 25th.
I wrote to Fraulein Pruckl to-day. She is staying at Achensee. I should like to
see her. Every afternoon we bathe and then go for a walk. But to-day it has
been raining all day. Such a bore. I forgot to bring my paint-box and I'm not
allowed to read all day. Mother says, if you gobble all your books up now
you'll have nothing left to read. That's quite true, but I can't even go and
swing.
Afternoon.
I must write some more. I've had a frightful row with Dora. She says I've been
fiddling with her things. It's all because she's so untidy. As if her
things could interest me. Yesterday she left her letter to Erika lying about on
the table, and all I read was: He's as handsome as a Greek god. I don't know
who "he" was for she came in at that moment. It's probably Krail
Rudi, with whom she is everlastingly playing tennis and carries on like
anything. As for handsome—well, there's no accounting for tastes.
July 26th.
It's a good thing I brought my dolls' portmanteau. Mother said: You'll be glad
to have it on rainy days. Of course I'm much too old to play with dolls, but
even though I'm 11 I can make dolls' clothes still. One learns something while
one is doing it, and when I've finished something I do enjoy it so. Mother cut
me out some things and I was tacking them together. Then Dora came into the
room and said Hullo, the child is sewing things for her dolls. What cheek, as
if she had never played with dolls. Besides, I don't really play with dolls any
longer. When she sat down beside me I sewed so vigorously that I made a great
scratch on her hand, and said: Oh, I'm so sorry, but you came too close. I hope
she'll know why I really did it. Of course she'll go and sneak to Mother. Let
her. What right has she to call me child. She's got a fine red scratch anyhow,
and on her right hand where everyone can see.
July 27th.
There's such a lot of fruit here. I eat raspberries and gooseberries all day
and Mother says that is why I have no appetite for dinner. But Dr. Klein always
says Fruit is so wholesome. But why should it be unwholesome all at once? Hella
always says that when one likes anything awfully much one is always scolded
about it until one gets perfectly sick of it. Hella often gets in such a temper
with her mother, and then her mother says: We make such sacrifices for our
children and they reward us with ingratitude. I should like to know what
sacrifices they make. I think it's the children who make the sacrifices. When I
want to eat gooseberries and am not allowed to, the sacrifice is mine
not Mother's. I've written all this to Hella. Fraulein Pruckl has
written to me. The address on her letter to me was splendid, "Fraulein
Grete Lainer, Lyzealschulerin." Of course Dora had to know better than
anyone else, and said that in the higher classes from the fourth upwards
(because she is in the fourth) they write "Lyzeistin." She said:
"Anyhow, in the holidays, before a girl has attended the first class she's
not a Lyzealschulerin at all." Then Father chipped in, saying that we
(I didn't begin it) really must stop this eternal wrangling; he really
could not stand it. He's quite right, but what he said won't do any good, for
Dora will go on just the same. Fraulein Pruckl wrote that she was delighted
that I had written. As soon as I have time she wants me to write to her again.
Great Scott, I've always time for her. I shall write to her again this
evening after supper, so as not to keep her waiting.
July 29th.
I simply could not write yesterday. The Warths have arrived, and I had to spend
the whole day with Erna and Liesel, although it rained all day. We had a
ripping time. They know a lot of round games and we played for sweets. I won
47, and I gave five of them to Dora. Robert is already more than a head taller
than we are, I mean than Liesel and me; I think he is fifteen. He says Fraulein
Grete and carried my cloak which Mother sent me because of the rain and he saw
me home after supper.
To-morrow
is my birthday and everyone has been invited and Mother has made strawberry
cream and waffles. How spiffing.
July 30th.
To-day is my birthday. Father gave me a splendid parasol with a flowered border
and painting materials and Mother gave me a huge postcard album for 800 cards
and stories for school girls, and Dora gave me a beautiful box of notepaper and
Mother had made a chocolate-cream cake for dinner to-day as well as the
strawberry cream. The first thing in the morning the Warths sent me three
birthday cards. And Robert had written on his: With deepest respect your
faithful R. It is glorious to have a birthday, everyone is so kind, even
Dora. Oswald sent me a wooden paper-knife, the handle is a dragon and the blade
shoots out of its mouth instead of flame; or perhaps the blade is its tongue,
one can't be quite sure. It has not rained yet on my birthday. Father says I
was born under a lucky star. That suits me all right, tip top.
July 31st.
Yesterday was heavenly. We laughed till our sides ached over Consequences. I
was always being coupled with Robert and oh the things we did together, not
really of course but only in writing: kissed, hugged, lost in the forest,
bathed together; but I say, I wouldn't do that! quarrelled. That won't
happen, it's quite impossible! Then we drank my health clinking glasses five
times and Robert wanted to drink it in wine but Dora said that would never do!
The real trouble was this. She always gets furious if she has to play second
fiddle to me and yesterday I was certainly first fiddle.
Now I must
write a word about to-day. We've had a splendid time. We were in Tiefengraben
with the Warths where there are such a lot of wild strawberries. Robert picked
all the best of them for me, to the great annoyance of Dora who had to pick
them for herself. Really I would rather pick them for myself, but when some one
else picks them for one for love (that's what Robert said) then one is
quite glad to have them picked for one. Besides, I did pick some myself and
gave most of them to Father and some to Mother. At afternoon tea which we had
in Flischberg I had to sit beside Erna instead of Robert. Erna is rather dull.
Mother says she is anemic; that sounds frightfully interesting, but I
don't quite know what it means. Dora is always saying that she is anemic, but
of course that is not true. And Father always says "Don't talk such stuff,
you're as fit as a fiddle." That puts her in such a wax. Last year Lizzi
was really anemic, so the doctor said, she was always having palpitation and
had to take iron and drink
August
1st. Hella is rather cross with me because I wrote and told her that I had
spent the whole day with the W's. Still, she is really my only friend or I
should not have written and told her. Every year in the country she has another
friend too, but that doesn't put me out. I can't understand why she doesn't like
Robert; she doesn't know anything about him except what I have written and
certainly that was nothing but good. Of course she does know him for he is a
cousin of the Sernigs and she met him once there. But one does not get to know
a person from seeing them once. Anyhow she does not know him the way I do.
Yesterday I was with the Warths all day. We played Place for the King and
Robert caught me and I had to give him a kiss. And Erna said, that doesn't
count, for I had let myself be caught. But Robert got savage and said: Erna is
a perfect nuisance, she spoils everyone's pleasure. He's quite right, but
there's some one else just as bad. But I do hope Erna has not told Dora about
the kiss. If she has everyone will know and I shouldn't like that. I lay in wait
for Erna with the sweets which Aunt Dora sent us. Robert and Liesel and I ate
the rest. They were so good and nearly all large ones. At first Robert wanted
to take quite a little one, but I said he must only have a big one. After that
he always picked out the big ones. When I came home in the evening with the
empty box Father laughed and said: There's nothing mean about our Gretel.
Besides, Mother still has a great box full; I have no idea whether Dora still
has a lot, but I expect so.
August
2nd. Oswald arrived this afternoon at 5. He's a great swell now; he's begun to
grow a moustache. In the evening Father took him to the hotel to introduce him
to some friends. He said it would be an awful bore, but he will certainly make
a good impression especially in his new tourist getup and leather breeches.
Grandmama and Grandpapa sent love to all. I've never seen them. They have sent
a lot of cakes and sweets and Oswald grumbled no end because he had to bring
them. Oswald is always smoking cigarettes and Father said to him: Come along
old chap, we'll go to the inn and have a drink on the strength of your good
report. It seems to me rather funny; no one wants to drink anything when Dora
and I have a good report, at most they give us a present. Oswald has only Twos and
Threes and very few Ones and in Greek nothing but Satisfactory, but I have
nothing but Ones. He said something to Father in Latin and Father laughed
heartily and said something I could not understand. I don't think it was Latin,
but it may have been Magyar or English. Father knows nearly all languages, even
Czech, but thank goodness he doesn't talk them unless he wants to tease us.
Like that time at the station when Dora and I were so ashamed. Czech is horrid,
Mother says so too. When Robert pretends to speak Czech it's screamingly funny.
August
3rd. I got a chill bathing the other day so now I am not allowed to bathe for a
few days. Robert keeps me company. We are quite alone and he tells me all sorts
of tales. He swings me so high that I positively yell. To-day he made me really
angry, for he said: Oswald is a regular noodle. I said, that's not true, boys
can never stand one another. Besides, it is not true that he lisps. Anyhow I
like Oswald much better than Dora who always says "the children" when
she is talking of me and of Hella and even of Robert. Then he said: Dora is
just as big a goose as Erna. He's quite right there. Robert says he is never
going to smoke, that it is so vulgar, that real gentlemen never smoke. But what
about Father, I should like to know? He says, too, that he will never grow a
beard but will shave every day and his wife will have to put everything
straight to him. But a beard suits Father and I can't imagine him without a
beard. I know I won't marry a man without a beard.
August
5th. We go to the tennis ground every day. When we set off yesterday, Robert
and I and Liesel and Erna and Rene, Dora called after us: The bridal pair in
spee. She had picked up the phrase from Oswald. I think it means in a hundred
years. She can wait a hundred years if she likes, we shan't. Mother
scolded her like anything and said she mustn't say such stupid things. A good
job too; in spee, in spee. Now we always talk of her as Inspee, but no one
knows who we mean.
August
6th. Hella can't come here, for she is going to Klausenburg with her mother to
stay with her other uncle who is district judge there or whatever they call a
district judge in
August
7th. There has been such a fearful row about Dora. Oswald told Father that she
flirted so at the tennis court and he could not stand it. Father was in a
towering rage and now we mayn't play tennis any more. What upset her more than
anything was that Father said in front of me: This little chit of 14 is already
encouraging people to make love to her. Her eyes were quite red and swollen and
she couldn't eat anything at supper because she had such a headache!! We
know all about her headaches. But I really can't see why I shouldn't go and
play tennis.
August
8th. Oswald says that it wasn't the student's fault at all but only Dora's. I
can quite believe that when I think of that time on the Southern Railway.
Still, they won't let me play tennis any more, though I begged and begged
Mother to ask Father to let me. She said it would do no good for Father was
very angry and I mustn't spend whole days with the Warths any more. Whole days!
I should like to know when I was a whole day there. When I went there naturally
I had to stay to dinner at least. What have I got to do with Dora's love
affairs? It's really too absurd. But grown-ups are always like that. When one
person has done anything the others have to pay for it too.
August
9th. Thank goodness, I can play tennis once more; I begged and begged until
Father let me go. Dora declares that nothing will induce her to ask! That's the
old story of the fox and the grapes. She has been playing the invalid lately,
won't bathe, and stays at home when she can instead of going for walks. I
should like to know what's the matter with her. What I can't make out is why
Father lets her do it. As for Mother, she always spoils Dora; Dora is Mother's
favourite, especially when Oswald is not on hand. I can understand her making a
favourite of Oswald, but not of Dora. Father always says that parents have no
favourites, but treat all their children alike. That's true enough as far as
Father is concerned, although Dora declares that Father makes a favourite of
me; but that's only her fancy. At Christmas and other times we always get the
same sort of presents, and that's the real test. Rosa Plank always gets at
least three times as much as the rest of the family, that's what it is to be a
favourite.
August
12th. I can't write every day for I spend most of my time with the Warths.
Oswald can't stand Robert, he says he is a cad and a greenhorn. What vulgar
phrases. For three days I haven't spoken to Oswald except when I really had to.
When I told Erna and Liesel about it, they said that brothers were always rude
to their sisters. I said, I should like to know why. Besides, Robert is
generally very nice to his sisters. They said, Yes before you, because he's on
his best behaviour with you. Yesterday we laughed like anything when he told us
what fun the boys make of their masters. That story about the cigarette ends
was screamingly funny. They have a society called T. Au. M., that is in Latin
Be Silent or Die in initial letters. No one may betray the society's secrets,
and when they make a new member he has to strip off all his clothes and lie
down naked and every one spits on his chest and rubs it and says: Be One of Us,
but all in Latin. Then he has to go to the eldest and biggest who gives him two
or three cuts with a cane and he has to swear that he will never betray anyone.
Then everyone smokes a cigar and touches him with the lighted end on the arm or
somewhere and says: Every act of treachery will burn you like that. And then
the eldest, who has a special name which I can't remember, tattoos on him the
word Taum, that is Be Silent or Die, and a heart with the name of a girl.
Robert says that if he had known me sooner he would have chosen
"Gretchen." I asked him what name he had tattooed on him, but he said
he was not allowed to tell. I shall tell Oswald to look when they are bathing and
to tell me. In this society they abuse the masters frightfully and the one who
thinks of the best tricks to play on them is elected to the Rohon; to be a
Rohon is a great distinction and the others must always carry out his orders.
He said there was a lot more which he couldn't tell me because it's too
tremendous. Then I had to swear that I would never tell anyone about the
society and he wanted me to take the oath upon my knees, but I wouldn't do that
and he nearly forced me to my knees. In the end I had to give him my hand on it
and a kiss. I didn't mind giving him that, for a kiss is nothing, but nothing
would induce me to kneel down. Still, I was in an awful fright, for we were
quite alone in the garden and he took me by the throat and tried to force me to
my knees. All that about the society he told me when we were quite alone
for he said: I can't have your name tattooed on me because it's against our
laws to have two names but now that you have sworn I can let you know what I
really am and think in secret.
I couldn't
sleep all night for I kept on dreaming of the society, wondering whether there
are such societies in the high school and whether Dora is in a society and has
a name tattooed on her. But it would be horrible to have to strip naked before
all one's schoolfellows. Perhaps in the societies of the high-school girls that
part is left out. But I shouldn't like to say for sure whether I'd have
Robert's name tattooed on me.
August
15th. Yesterday Robert told me that there are some schoolboy societies where they
do very improper things, but that never happened in their society. But he
didn't say what. I said, the stripping naked seems to me awful; but he said,
Oh, that's nothing, that must happen if we're to trust one another, it's all
right as long as there's nothing improper. I wish I knew what. I wish I knew
whether Oswald knows about it, and whether he is in such a society or in a
proper one and whether Father was in one. If I could only find out. But I can't
ask, for if I did I should betray Robert. When he sees me he always presses my
left wrist without letting anyone see. He said that is the warning to me to be
silent. But he needn't do that really, for I never would betray him whatever
happened. He said: The pain is to bind you to me. When he says that his eyes
grow dark, quite black, although his eyes are really grey and they get very
large. Especially in the evening when we say goodbye, it frightens me. I'm
always dreaming of him.
August
18th. Yesterday evening we had illuminations in honour of the emperor's
birthday. We didn't get home until half past twelve. At first we went to a
concert in the park and to the illuminations. They fired salutes from the hills
and there were beacons flaring on the hill-tops; it was rather creepy although
it was wonderful. My teeth chattered once or twice, I don't know whether I was
afraid something would happen or why it was. Then R. came and talked such a
lot. He is set on going into the army. For that he needn't learn so much, and
what he's learning now is of no use to him. He says that doesn't matter, that
knowledge will give him a great pull. I don't think he looks stupid, though
Oswald says so to make me angry. All at once we found ourselves quite away from
the others and so we sat on a bench to wait for them. Then I asked R. once more
about the other societies, the ones in which they do such improper things. But
he wouldn't tell me for he said he would not rob me of my innocence. I thought
that very stupid, and I said that perhaps he didn't know himself and it was all
put on. All that happened, he said, was that anyone who joined the society was
tickled until he couldn't stand it any longer. And once one of them got St.
Vitus's dance, that is frightful convulsions and they were afraid that
everything would come out. And since then in their society no more tickling had
been allowed. Shall I tickle you a little? I don't understand you, I said, and
anyhow you daren't.
He gave a
great laugh and suddenly he seized me and tickled me under the arm. It made me
want to laugh frightfully, but I stifled it for there were still lots of people
going by. So he gave that up and tickled my hand. I liked it at first, but then
I got angry and dragged my hand away. Just then Inspee went by with two other
girls and directly they had passed us we followed close behind as if we had
been walking like that all the time. It saved me a wigging from Mother, for she
always wants us all to keep together. As we went along R. said: Look out,
Gretel, I'm going to tickle you some day until you scream.—How absurd, I
won't have it, it takes two to do that.
By the
way, in the raffle I won a vase with 2 turtledoves and a bag of sweets and R.
won a knife, fork and spoon. That annoyed him frightfully. Inspee won a
fountain pen, just what I want, and a mirror which makes one look a perfect
fright. A good job too, for she fancies herself such a lot.
August
29th. O dear, such an awful thing has happened. I have lost pages 30 to 34 from
my diary. I must have left them in the garden, or else on the Louisenhohe. It's
positively fiendish. If anyone was to find them. And I don't know exactly what
there was on those pages. I was born to ill luck. If I hadn't promised Hella to
write my diary every day I should like to give up the whole thing. Fancy if
Mother were to get hold of it, or even Father. And it's raining so fearfully
to-day that I can't even go into the garden and still less on the Louisenhohe
above all not alone. I must have lost it the day before yesterday, for I didn't
write anything yesterday or the day before. It would be dreadful if anyone were
to find it. I am so much upset that I couldn't eat anything at dinner, although
we had my favourite chocolate cream cake. And I'm so unhappy for Father was
quite anxious and Mother too and they both asked what was the matter with me
and I nearly burst out crying before everyone. We had dinner in the hotel
to-day because Resi had gone away for 2 days. But I couldn't cry in the room
before Father and Mother for that would have given the show away. My only hope
is that no one will recognise my writing, for Hella and I use upright writing
for our diary, first of all so that no one may recognise our writing and
secondly because upright writing doesn't use up so much paper as ordinary
writing. I do hope it will be fine to-morrow so that I can hunt in the garden
very early. I have been utterly in the dumps all day so that I didn't even get
cross when Inspee said: "Have you been quarrelling with your future
husband?"
August 30th.
It's not in the garden. I begged Mother to let us go to Louisenhutte this
afternoon. Mother was awfully nice and asked what I was so worried about, and
whether anything had happened. Then I couldn't keep it in any longer and burst
out crying. Mother said I must have lost something, and this gave me an awful
fright. Mother thought it was Hella's letter, the one which came on Tuesday, so
I said: No, much worse than that, my diary. Mother said: Oh well, that's not
such a terrible loss, and will be of no interest to anyone. Oh yes, I said, for
there are all sorts of things written in it about R. and his society. Look
here, Gretel, said Mother, I don't like this way you talk about R.; I really
don't like you to spend all your time with the Warths; they're really not our
sort and R. is not a fit companion for you; now that you are going to the high
school you are not a little girl any longer. Promise me that you'll not be
eternally with the Warths.—All right, Mother, I will break it off
gradually so that nobody will notice. She burst out laughing and kissed me on
both cheeks and promised me to say nothing to Inspee about the diary for she
needn't know everything. Mother is such a dear. Still 3 hours and perhaps the
pages are still there.
Evening.
Thank goodness! In front of the shelter I found 2 pages all pulped by the rain
and the writing all run and one page was in the footpath quite torn. Someone
must have trodden on it with the heel of his boot and 2 pages had been rolled
into a spill and partly burned. So no one had read anything. I am so happy. And
at supper Father said: I say, why are your eyes shining with delight? Have you
won the big prize in the lottery? and I pressed Mother's foot with mine to
remind her not to give me away and Father laughed like anything and said: Seems
to me there's a conspiracy against me in my own house. And I said in a great
hurry: Luckily we're not in our own house but in a hotel, and everyone laughed
and now thank goodness it's all over. Live and learn. I won't let that happen
again.
August
31st. Really I'm not so much with the W's and with R. I think he's offended.
This afternoon, when I went there to tea, he seized me by the wrist and said:
Your father is right, you're a witch. "You need a castigation." How
rude of him. Besides, I didn't know what castigation meant. I asked Father and
he told me and asked where I had picked up the word. I said I had passed 2
gentlemen and had heard one of them use it. What I really thought was that
castigation meant tickling. But it is really horrid to have no one to talk to.
Most of the people have gone already and we have only a week longer. About that
castigation business. I don't like fibbing to Father, but I really had to. I
couldn't say that R. wanted to give me a castigation when I didn't know what it
meant. Dora tells a lot more lies than I do and I always love catching her in a
lie for her lies are so obvious. I'm never caught. It only happened once when
Frau Oberst von Stary was there. Father noticed that time, for he said: You little
rogue, you tarradiddler!
September
3rd. Such a horrid thing has happened. I shall never speak to R. again. Oswald
is quite right in calling him a cad. If I had really fallen out of the swing I
might have broken my leg 4 days before we have to start from home. I can't make
out how it all happened. It was frightful cheek of him to tickle me as he did,
and I gave him such a kick. I think it was on his nose or his mouth. Then he
actually dared to say: After all I'm well paid out, for what can one expect when
one keeps company with such young monkeys, with such babies. Fine talk from him
when he's not 14 himself yet. It was all humbug about his being 15 and he seems
to be one of the idlest boys in the school, never anything but Satisfactory in
his reports, and he's not in the fifth yet, but only in the fourth. Anyhow,
we've settled our accounts. Cheeky devil. I shall never tell anyone about it,
it will be my first and I hope my last secret from Hella.
September
6th. We are going home to-morrow. The last few days have been awfully dull. I
saw R. once or twice but I always looked the other way. Father asked what was
wrong between me and the Warths and R., so that our great friendship had been
broken off. Of course I had to fib, for it was absolutely impossible to
tell the truth. I said that R. found fault with everything I did, my writing,
my reading aloud. (That's quite true, he did that once) and Father said: Well,
well, you'll make it up when you say goodbye to-morrow. Father makes a great
mistake. I'll never speak a word to him again.
For her
birthday, although it's not come yet, Dora is to have a navy blue silk
dustcloak. I don't think the colour suits her, and anyhow she's much too thin
to wear a dustcloak.
September
14th. Hella came back the day before yesterday. She looks splendid and she says
I do too. I'm so glad that she's back. After all I told her about R. She was
very angry and said I ought to have given him 2 more; one for the tickling and
one for the "baby" and one for the "young monkey." If we
should happen to meet him, shan't we just glare at him.
September
17th. Inspee has really got the silk dustcloak but I think the tartan hood
looks rather silly. Still, I didn't say so, but only that the cloak fitted
beautifully. She has tried it on at least five times already. I don't know
whether Father really wants to treat her as a grown-up lady or whether he is
making fun of her. I believe he's only making fun. She doesn't really look like
a grown-up lady. How could she when she's not 14 yet? Yesterday afternoon such
a lot of girls were invited, and of course Hella was invited on my account and
we had a grand talk. But most of them bragged frightfully about the country
where they said they had been. We were 9 girls. But Hella is the only
one I care about.
September
22nd, 19—. School began to-day. Hella came to fetch me and we went along
together. Inspee peached on us to Mother, saying we ran on in front of her. We
don't want her as governess. There are 34 of us in the class. Our teachers are
a Frau Doktor, 2 mistresses, one professor, and I think a drawing mistress as
well. The Frau Doktor teaches German and writing. She put us together on the
3rd bench. Then she made a speech, then she told us what books to get, but we
are not to buy them till Monday. We have 3 intervals, one long and 2 short. The
long one is for games, the short ones to go out. I usen't to go out at the
elementary school and now I don't need to. Mother always says that it's only a
bad habit. Most of the girls went out, and even asked to leave the room during
lesson time. To-day we hadn't any proper lessons. They are to begin to-morrow,
but we don't know what. Then we came home.
September
23rd. To-day we had the mistress who teaches geography and history, she has no
degree. Inspee says that she had her last year, but she could not stand her,
she's so ugly. Father was angry and said to Inspee: You silly goose, don't fill
her head with such stuff. Show what you are worth as elder sister. One can
learn something from every mistress and every master if one likes. But I can't
say, we're really fond of Fraulein Vischer and I don't much care for geography
and history. Besides I'm not learning for her but for myself. Frau Dr. Mallburg
is awfully nice and pretty. We shall always write Frau Dr. M. for short. When
she laughs she has two dimples and a gold stopping. She is new at the school. I
don't know if we are to have singing too. In French we have Madame Arnau, she
is beautifully dressed, black lace. Hella has a lovely pen and pencil case;
it's quite soft, we must have it soft so that it shan't make a row when it
falls down during lesson time. I think it cost 7 crowns or 1.70 crowns, I don't
know exactly. To-day lessons went on until 12, first German, then arithmetic,
then religion for Catholics, and then we came away. Hella waited for me, for
the Herr Pastor did not come.
September
24th. We thought the book shops would be open to-day but we were wrong. Hella's
mother said, that's what happens when the chicks think themselves wiser than
the hens. In the afternoon Hella came to our house and Inspee had been invited
by the Fs. I don't go there, for it's so dull, they play the piano all day. I
have enough piano at my lessons. My music lessons will begin when the school
time-table has been fixed up. Perhaps on October 1st, then I must write to Frau
B., she told me to write myself. She tells all her pupils to do that. I would
rather have had Hella's music mistress. But she has no time to spare and I
think she charges more. At least she wouldn't always be holding me up
"Fraulein Dora" as a model. We are not all so musical as Fraulein
Dora. In the evening Inspee was reading a great fat book until 10 or 12 o clock
and she simply howled over it. She said she had not, but I heard her and she
could hardly speak. She says she had a cold, liar.
September
25th. To-day they gave us the professors' time-table, but it won't work until
the professors from the Gymnasium know exactly when they can come. Our Frau
Doktor might be teaching in a Gymnasium, but since there is only one here she
teaches in our school. To-morrow we are going to have a viva voce composition:
Our Holidays. We may write 8 or 10 sentences at home before we come, but we
must not look at what we have written in class. I've written mine already. But
I've not said anything about Robert. He's not worth thinking about anyhow. I
did not even tell Hella everything.
September
25th. We had the viva voce composition and Frau Doktor said, very good, what is
your name? Grete Lainer I said and she said: And is that your chum next you?
Now she must tell us how she spent her holidays. Hella did hers very well too
and Frau Doktor said again, very good. Then the bell rang. In the long interval
Frau Doktor played dodge with us. It was great fun. I was it six times. In the
little intervals we were quite alone for the staff has such a lot to do drawing
up the time-table. A pupil-teacher from the F. high school is in our class. She
sits on the last bench for she is very tall. As tall as Frau Doktor.
September
26th. To-day we had Professor Riegel for the first time in natural history. He
wears eye-glasses and never looks any of us in the face. And in French Madame
A. said that my accent was the best. We've got an awful lot on and I don't know
whether I shall be able to write every day. The younger girls say Professor
Igel instead of Riegel and the Weinmann girl said Nikel.
September
30th. I've had simply no time to write. Hella hasn't written anything since the
24th. But I must write to-day for I met Robert in Schottengasse. Good morning,
Miss, you needn't be so stuck up, he said as he went by. And when I turned
round he had already passed, or I would have given him a piece of my mind. I
must go to supper.
October
1st. I can't write, Oswald has come from S., he has sprained his ankle, but I'm
not so sure because he can get about. He is awfully pale and doesn't say a word
about the pain.
October
4th. To-day is a holiday, the emperor's birthday. Yesterday Resi told me
something horrid. Oswald can't go back to S. He has been up to something, I
wish I knew what, perhaps something in the closet. He always stays there such a
long time, I noticed that when I was in the country. Or perhaps it may have
been something in his society. Inspee pretends she knows what it is but of
course it isn't true, for she doesn't know any more than I do. Father is
furious and Mother's eyes are all red with crying. At dinner nobody says a
word. If I could only find out what he's done. Father was shouting at him
yesterday and both Dora and I heard what he said: You young scamp (then there
was something we couldn't understand) and then he said, you attend to your school
books and leave the girls and the married women alone you pitiful scoundrel.
And Dora said. Ah, now I understand and I said: Please tell me, he is my
brother as well as yours. But she said: "You wouldn't understand. It's not
suitable for such young ears." Fancy that, it's suitable for her ears, but
not mine though she's not quite three years older than I am, but because she no
longer wears a short skirt she gives herself the airs of a grown-up lady.
Such airs, and then she sneaks a great spoonful of jam so that her mouth is
stuffed with it and she can't speak. Whenever I see her do this, I make a point
of speaking to her so that she has to answer. She does get in such a wax.
October
9th. I know all about it now. . . That's how babies come. And that is
what Robert really meant. Not for me, thank you, I simply won't marry. For if
one marries one has to do it; it hurts frightfully and yet one has to. What a
good thing that I know it in time. But I wish I knew exactly how, Hella says
she doesn't know exactly herself. But perhaps her cousin who knows everything
about it will tell her. It lasts nine months till the baby comes and then a lot
of women die. It's horrible. Hella has known it for a long time but she didn't
like to tell me. A girl told her last summer in the country. She wanted to talk
about it to Lizzi her sister, really she only wanted to ask if it was all true
and Lizzi ran off to her mother to tell her what Hella had said And her mother
said; "These children are awful, a corrupt generation, don't you dare to
repeat it to any other girl, to Grete Lainer, for instance," and she gave
her a box on the ear. As if she could help it! That is why she didn't write to
me for such a long time. Poor thing, poor thing, but now she can tell me all
about it and we won't betray one another. And that deceitful cat Inspee has
known all about it for ages and has never told me. But I don't understand why
that time at the swing Robert said: You little fool, you wont get a baby simply
from that. Perhaps Hella knows. When I go to the gymnastic lesson to-morrow I
shall talk to her first and ask her about it. My goodness how curious I am to
know.
October
10th. I'm in a great funk, I missed my gymnastic lesson yesterday. I was
upstairs at Hella's and without meaning it I was so late I did not dare to go.
And Hella said I had better stay with her that we would say that our sum was so
difficult that we had not got it finished in time. Luckily we really had a sum
to do. But I said nothing about it at home, for to-morrow Oswald is going to G.
to Herr S's. I thought that I knew all about it but only now has Hella really
told me everything. It's a horrible business this . . . I really can't write
it. She says that of course Inspee has it already, had it when I wrote that
Inspee wouldn't bathe, did not want to bathe; really she had it. Whatever
happens one must always be anxious about it. Streams of blood says
Hella. But then everything gets all bl . . . That's why in the country Inspee always
switched off the light before she was quite undressed, so that I couldn't see.
Ugh! Catch me looking! It begins at 14 and goes on for 20 years or more. Hella
says that Berta Franke in our class knows all about it. In the arithmetic
lesson she wrote a note: Do you know what being un . . . is? Hella wrote back,
of course I've known it for a long time. Berta waited for her after class when
the Catholics were having their religion lesson and they went home together. I
remember quite well that I was very angry, for they're not chums. On Tuesday
Berta came with us, for Hella had sent her a note in class saying that I knew everything
and she needn't bother about me. Inspee suspects something, she's always spying
about and sneering, perhaps she thinks that she's the only person who ought to
know anything.
October
16th. To-morrow is Father's and Dora's birthday. Every year it annoys me that
Dora should have her birthday on the same day as Father; What annoys me most of
all is that she is so cocky about it, for, as Father always says, it's a mere
chance. Besides, I don't think he really likes it. Everyone wants to have their
own birthday on their own day, not to share it with someone else. And it's
always nasty to be stuck up about a thing like that. Besides, it's not going to
be a real birthday because of the row about Oswald. Father is still furious and
had to stay away from the office for 2 days because he had to go to G. to see
about Oswald going there.
October
17th. It was much jollier to-day than I had expected. All the Bruckners came,
so of course there was not much said about Oswald only that he has sprained his
ankle, (I know quite well now that that's not true) and that he is probably
going to G. Colonel B. said: The best thing for a boy is to send him to a
military academy, that keeps him in order. In the evening Oswald said: That was
awful rot what Hella's father said, for you can be expelled from a military
academy just as easily as from the Gymnasium. That's what happened to Edgar
Groller. Oswald gave himself away and Dora promptly said: Ah, so you have been
expelled, and we believed you had sprained your ankle. Then he got in an awful
wax and said: O you wretched flappers, I've gone and blabbed it all now, and he
went away slamming the door, for Mother wasn't there.
October
19th. If we could only find out what Oswald really did. It must have been
something with a girl. But we can't think what Father meant about a married
woman. Perhaps a married woman complained of him to the head master or to the
school committee and that's how it all came out. I feel awfully sorry for him,
for I think how I should have felt myself if everything had come out about
Robert and me. Of course I don't care now. But in the summer it would have been
awful. Oswald hardly says a word, except that he has talks with Mother
sometimes. He always pretends that he wants to read, but it's absurd, for with
such a love trouble one can't really read. I have not told Berta Franke all
about it, but only that my brother has had an unhappy love affair and that is
why he is back in
October 20th.
We spend most of our time now with Berta Franke. She says she has had a
tremendous lot of experience, but she can't tell us yet because we are not
intimate enough. By and by she says. Perhaps she is afraid we shall give her
away. She wants to marry when she is 16 at latest. That's in 2 years. Of course
she won't have finished school by then, but she will have left the third class.
She has three admirers, but she has not yet made up her mind which to choose.
Hella says I mustn't believe all this, that the story about the three admirers
at once is certainly a cram.
October
21st. Berta Franke says that when one is dark under the eyes one has it and
that when one gets a baby then one doesn't have it any more until one gets
another. She told us too how one gets it, but I didn't really believe what she
said, for I thought she did not know herself exactly. Then she got very cross
and said: "All right, I won't tell you any more. If I don't know
myself." But I can't believe what she said about husband and wife. She
said it must happen every night, for if not they don't have a baby; if they
miss a single night they don't have a baby. That's why they have their beds so
close together. People call them marriage beds!!! And it hurts so
frightfully that one can hardly bear it. But one has to for a husband can make
his wife do it. I should like to know how he can make her. But I didn't dare to
ask for I was afraid she would think I was making fun of her. Men have it too,
but very seldom. We see a lot of Berta Franke now, she is an awfully nice girl,
perhaps Mother will let me invite her here next Sunday.
October
23rd. Father took Oswald away to-day. Mother cried such a lot. When Oswald was
leaving I whispered to him: I know what's the matter with you. But he did not
understand me for he said: Silly duffer. Perhaps he only said that because of
Father who was looking on with a fearful scowl.
October
27th. Everything seems to have gone wrong. Yesterday I got unsatisfactory in
history, and in arithmetic to-day I couldn't get a single sum right. I'm
frightfully worried about missing that gymnastic lesson. It will be all right
if Mother gives me the money to-morrow, for if she goes herself she will
certainly find out about it.
October
28th. To-day the head mistress was present at our French lesson and said
awfully nice things about me. She said I was good enough in French to be in the
Third and then she asked me whether I was as good in the other subjects. I
didn't want to say either Yes or No, and all the other girls said Yes, she's
good at everything. The head patted me on the shoulder and said: I'm glad to
hear that. When she had gone I cried like anything and Madame Arnau asked: Why,
what's the matter? and the other girls said: In arithmetic she had
Unsatisfactory but she can really do her sums awfully well. Then Madame said:
"You'll soon wipe off that Unsatisfactory."
October
30th. To-day I had a frightful bother with Fraulein Vischer in the history
lesson. Yesterday when I got into the tram with Mother there was Fraulein V. I
looked the other way so that Mother shouldn't see her and so that she should
not tell Mother about me. When she came in to-day she said: Lainer, do you know
the rules? I knew directly what she meant and said "I did bow to you in
the tram but you didn't see me." "That's a fine thing to do, first
you do wrong and then try to excuse yourself by telling a lie. Sit down!"
I felt awful for all the girls looked at me. In the 11 interval Berta Franke
said to me: Don't worry, she's got her knife into you and will always find
something to complain of. She must have spoken to Frau Doktor M., for in the
German lesson the subject for viva voce composition was Good Manners. And all
the girls looked at me again. She didn't say anything more. She's a perfect
angel, my darling E. M., her name is Elisabeth; but she does not keep her
name-day because she's a Protestant; that's an awful shame because November
19th is coming soon.
October
31st. I've been so lucky. Nothing's come out about the gymnastic lesson though Mother
was there herself. And in mental arithmetic to-day I got a One. Fraulein
Steiner is awfully nice too and she said: Why, L. what was the matter with you
in your sums the other day, for you're so good at arithmetic? I didn't know
what to do so I said: Oh I had such a headache the other day. Then Berta Franke
nearly burst out laughing, it was horrid of her; I don't think she's quite to
be trusted; I think she's rather a sneak. When the lesson was over she said she
had laughed because "headache" means something quite different.
November
1st. To-day we began to work at the tablecloth for Father's Christmas present.
Of course Inspee bagged the right side because that's easier to work at and I
had to take the left side and then one has the whole caboodle on one's hand.
For Mother I'm making an embroidered leather book cover, embroidered with silk
and with a painted design; I can do the painting part at school in Fraulein
H.'s lesson, she's awfully nice too. But I like Frau Doktor M. best of all. I'm
not going to invite Berta Franke because of the way she laughed
yesterday, and besides Mother doesn't like having strange girls to the house.
November 2nd. I don't know all about things yet. Hella knows a lot more. We
said we were going to go over our natural history lesson together and we went
in to the drawing-room, and there she told me a lot more. Then
November
5th. Everything has come out through that stupid waist band. Yesterday when I
was tidying my drawers
November
6th. A fine thing this, that I'm a silly fool now. When I gave Hella a nudge so
that she should not go on talking before
November
7th. Hella and I are very stand-offish. We walk together, but we only talk of
everyday things, school and lessons, nothing else. We went skating to-day for
the first time and we shall go whenever we have time, which is not very often.
Mother is working at the table cloth. It's very hard work but she has not got
as much to do as we have.
November
8th. There was such a lovely young lady skating to-day, and she skates so
beautifully, inside and outside edge and figures of 8. I skated along behind
her. When she went to the cloak room there was such a lovely scent. I wonder if
she is going to be married soon and whether she knows all about
everything. She is so lovely and she pushes back the hair from her forehead so
prettily. I wish I were as pretty as she is. But I am dark and she is fair. I
wish I could find out her name and where she lives. I must go skating again
to-morrow; do my lessons in the evening.
November
9th. I'm so upset; she didn't come to skate. I'm afraid she may be ill.
November
10th. She didn't come to-day either. I waited two hours, but it was no good.
November
11th. She came to-day, at last! Oh how pretty she is.
November
12th. She has spoken to me. I was standing near the entrance gate and suddenly
I heard some one laughing behind me and I knew directly: That is she! So
it was. She came up and said: Shall we skate together? Please, if I may, said
I, and we went off together crossing arms. My heart was beating furiously, and
I wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything sensible to say. When
we came back to the entrance a gentleman stood there and took off his hat and
she bowed, and she said to me: Till next time. I said quickly: When? Tomorrow?
Perhaps, she called back. . . . Only perhaps, perhaps, oh I wish it were
to-morrow already.
November
13th. Inspee declares that her name is Anastasia Klastoschek. I'm sure it can't
be true that she has such a name, she might be called Eugenie or Seraphine or
Laura, but Anastasia, impossible. Why are there such horrid names? Fancy if she
is really called that. Klastoschek, too, a Czech name, and she is supposed to
come from
November
14th. I asked the woman at the pay box, her name really is Anastasia
Klastoschek and she lives in the Phorusgasse; but the woman didn't know how old
she is. She would not tell me at first but asked why I wanted to know and who
had sent me to enquire. She wouldn't look into the book until I told her that
it was only for myself that I wanted to know. Then she looked, for I
knew the number of the cloak room locker: 36, a lovely number, I like it so
much. I don't really know why, but when I hear anyone say that number it sounds
to me like a squirrel jumping about in the wood.
November
20th. It's really impossible to write every day. Mother is ill in bed and the
doctor comes every day, but I don't really know what's the matter with her. I'm
not sure whether the doctor knows exactly. When Mother is ill everything at
home is so uncomfortable and she always says: Whatever you do don't get ill,
for it's such a nuisance. But I don't mind being ill; indeed I rather like
being ill, for then everyone's so nice, when Father comes home he comes and
sits by my bed and even Dora is rather nice and does things for me; that
is she has to. Besides, when she had diptheria two years ago I did
everything I could for her, she nearly died, her temperature went up to 107 and
Mother was sick with crying. Father never cries. It must look funny when a man
cries. When there was all that row about Oswald he cried, I think Father had
given him a box on the ear. He said he hadn't but I think he had; certainly he
cried, though he said he didn't. After all, why shouldn't he for he's not
really grown up yet. I cry myself when I get frightfully annoyed. Still I
shouldn't cry for a box on the ear.
November
21st. In the religion lesson to-day Lisel Schrotter who is the Herr Catechist's
favourite, no we've got to call him Herr Professor, as she is the Herr
Professor's favourite, well she went to him with the Bible and asked him what with
child meant. That's what they say of Mary in the Bible. The Schrotter girl
does not know anything yet and the other girls egged her on till she went and
asked. The Herr Professor got quite red and said: If you don't know yet it does
not matter. We shall come to that later, we're still in the Old Testament. I
was so glad that Hella does not sit next me in the religion lesson, because
she's a Protestant; we should certainly have both burst out laughing. Some of
the girls giggled frightfully and the Herr Professor said to Lisel: You're a
good girl, don't bother about the others. But Lisel positively howled. I would
not have asked, even if I hadn't really known. With child is a stupid
word anyhow, it doesn't mean anything really; only if one knows.
November
22nd. When I was coming away from the religion lesson with Berta Franke the
other day, of course we began talking about it. She says that's why
people marry, only because of it. I said I could not believe that people
marry only for that. Lots of people marry and then have no children.
That's all right said Berta, but it's quite true what I tell you. Then she told
me a lot more but I really can't write it all down. It is too horrid, but I
shan't forget. When I was sitting on Mother's bed to-day I suddenly realised
that Father's bed is really quite close to Mother's. I had never thought about
it before. But it's not really necessary now for we are all quite big. Still I
suppose they've just left things as they were. Well dear, said Mother, what are
you looking round so for? Of course I didn't let on, but said: I was only
looking round and thinking that if your bed was where the washstand is you
could see to read better when you are lying in bed. That would not do because
the wall's all wrong said Mother. I said nothing more and she didn't either. I
like much better to sleep on a sofa than in a bed, because I like to snuggle up
against the back. I'm so glad Mother didn't notice anything. One has to be so
frightfully careful not to give oneself away when one knows everything.
November
25th. I have just been reading a lovely story; it is called A True Heart
and is about a girl whose betrothed has had to leave her because he has shot a
man who was spying on him. But
November
27th. Father has been made Appeal Court Judge. He is awfully glad and so is
Mother. The news came yesterday evening. Now he can become President of the
Supreme Court, not directly, but in a few years. We shall probably move to a
larger house in May. Inspee said to Mother that she hoped she would have her own
room where she would not be disturbed. How absurd, who disturbs her, I
suppose I do? Much more like she disturbs me, always watching while I'm writing
my diary. Hella always says: "There really ought not to be any elder
sisters;" she's jolly well right. It's a pity we can't alter things.
Mother says we are really too big to keep
* Krampus=Ruprechtsknecht, i.e. a little Demon, who serves St. Nicholas, and is a bogey man to carry off naughty children An image of this Demon filled with sweets, is given as a present on the feast of St. Nicholas which inaugurates the Christmas season.—Translators' Note.
December 1st. We are giving everyone of
the staff a Krampus, each of us is to subscribe a crown, I hope Father will
give me the crown extra. Perhaps he'll give us more pocket money now, at least
another crown, that would be splendid. We are going to give big Krampuses to
the ones we like best, and: small ones to those we are not so fond of. We're
afraid to give one to Professor J. But if he doesn't get one perhaps he'll be
offended.
December 2nd. To-day we went to buy
Krampuses for the staff. The one for Frau Doktor M. is the finest. When you
open it the first thing you see is little books with Schiller, Goethe, and
Fairy Tales written on the backs, and then underneath these are the sweets. That's
exactly suited for her, for the Frau Doktor teaches German and in the Fourth in
German they are reading these poets. Last month in the Fourth they had a
Schiller festival and Frau Doktor made a splendid speech and some of the girls
gave recitations. Besides Hella has shown me an awful poem by Schiller. There
you can read: if only I could catch her in the bath, she would cry for mercy,
for I would soon show the girl that I am a man. And then in another place:
"To my mate in God's likeness I can show that which is the source
of life." But you can only find that in the large editions of
Schiller. I believe we've got some books of that sort in our bookcase, for when
Inspee was rummaging there the other day Mother called from the next room:
"Dora, what are you hunting for in the bookcase? I can tell you where it
is." And she said: Oh, it's nothing, I was just looking for something, and
shut the door quickly.
December 4th. The girls are so tiresome
and have made such a muddle about the Krampuses for the staff. The money didn't
come out right and Keller said that Markus had taken some but Markus said not
taken only kept. Of course Markus complained to Frau Doktor and her father went
to the head and complained too. Frau Doktor said we know quite well that collections
are not allowed and that we must not give any one a Krampus. Now Keller has the
five Krampuses and we don't know what to do about it. Mother says that sort of
thing never turns out well but always ends in a quarrel.
December 5th. We are in such a funk: Hella
and I and Edith Bergler have taken the Krampus which we bought for Frau Doktor
M. and put it on her doorstep. Edith Bergler knew where she lived for she comes
by there every day on her way to school. I wonder if she'll guess where the
Krampus comes from. I did not know that Edith Bergler was such a nice girl, I
always thought she must be deceitful because she wears spectacles. But now I'm
quite certain she is not deceitful, so one sees how easy it is to make a
mistake. To-morrow's our German lesson.
December 6th. Frau Doktor did not say
anything at first. Then she gave out the subject for the essay: "Why once
I could not go to sleep at night." The girls were all taken aback, and
then Frau Doktor said: Now girls that's not so very difficult. One person
cannot go to sleep because he's just going to be ill, another because he is
excited by joy or fear. Another has an uneasy conscience because he has done
something which he has been forbidden to do; have not all of you experienced
something of the kind? Then she looked frightfully hard at Edith Bergler and us
two. She did not say anything more, so we don't really know if she suspects. I
couldn't go to the ice carnival yesterday because I had such a bad cough, and
Dora couldn't go either because she had a headache; I don't know whether it was
a real headache or that kind of headache; but I expect it was that kind.
December 17th. I haven't managed to write
anything for a whole week. The day before yesterday we had our Christmas
reports: In history I had satisfactory, in Natural History good, in everything
else very good. In diligence because of that stupid Vischer I had only a 2.
Father was very angry; he says everyone can get a 1 in diligence. That's true
enough, but if one has satisfactory in anything then one can't get a 1 for
diligence. Inspee of course had only 1's, except a 2 in English. But then she's
a frightful swot. Verbenowitsch is the best in our class, but we can't any of
us bear her, she's so frantically conceited and Berta Franke says she's not
to be trusted. Berta walks to school with her cousin who's in the seventh;
she's nearly 14, and is awfully pretty. She didn't say what sort of a report
she had, but I believe it was a very bad one.
December 18th. To-day at supper Dora
fainted because she found a little chicken in her egg, not really a chicken
yet, but one could make out the wings and the head, just a sketch of a chicken
Father said. Still, I really can't see what there was to faint about.
Afterwards she said it had made her feel quite creepy. And she'll never be able
to eat another egg. At first Father was quite frightened and so was Mother, but
then he laughed and said: What a fuss about nothing! She had to go and lie down
at once and I stayed downstairs for a long time. When I came up to our room she
was reading, that is I saw the light through the crack in the door; but when I
opened the door it was all dark and when I asked: Ah so you're still reading
she didn't answer and she pretended to wake up when I switched on the light and
said: What's the matter? I can't stand such humbug so I said: Shut up, you know
quite well it's 9 o-clock. That's all. On our way to school to-day we didn't
Speak a word to one another. Luckily after awhile we met a girl belonging to
her class.
December 19th. I'm frightfully excited to
know what I'm going to get for Christmas. What I've wished for is: A set of
white furs, boa, muff, and velvet cap trimmed with the same fur, acme skates
because mine are always working loose, German sagas, not Greek; no thank
you, hair ribbons, openwork stockings, and if possible a gold pin like the one
Hella got for a birthday present. But Father says that our Christ Child would
find that rather too expensive. Inspee wants a corset. But I don't think she'll
get one because it's unhealthy. The tablecloth for Father is finished and is
being trimmed, but Mother's book cover is not quite ready yet. I'm giving Dora
a little manicure case. Oh, and I'd nearly forgotten what I want more than
anything else, a lock-up box in which to keep my diary. Dora wants some
openwork stockings too and three books. A frightful thing happened to me the
other day. I left one of the pages of my diary lying about or lost one somehow
or other. When I came home Inspee said: "you've lost this, haven't
you? School notes I suppose?" I didn't notice what it was for a moment,
but then I saw by the look of it and said: Yes, those are school notes. Hm-m-m,
said Inspee, not exactly that are they? You can thank your stars that I've not
shown them to Mother. Besides people who can't spell yet really ought not to
keep diaries. It's not suitable for children. I was in a wax. In the closet I
took a squint to see what mistakes I had made. There was only wenn with
one n instead of double n and dass with short ss's,
that's all. I was jolly glad that there was nothing about her on the
page. She'd underlined the n and the short ss's with red, just as
if she was a schoolmistress, infernal cheek! The best would be to have a book
with a lock to it, which one could alway keep locked, then no one could read
any of it and underline one's mistakes in red. I often write so fast that it's
easy to make a slip now and again. As if she never made a mistake. The whole
thing made me furious. But I can't say anything about it because of Mother, at
least on the way to school; but no, if I say nothing at all then she always
gets more waxy than ever. If I were to say much about it Mother might remember
those 5 pages I lost in the country and I'd rather not thank you.
December 22nd. Aunt Dora came to-day.
She's going to stay with us for a time till Mother is quite well again. I
didn't remember her at all, for I was only four or five when she went away from
December 23rd. I am frightfully excited
about to-morrow. I wonder what I shall get? Now I must go and decorate the
Christmas tree. Inspee said: Hullo, is Gretl going to help decorate this
year? She's never done it before! I should like to know why not. But Aunt Dora
took my side. "Of course she'll help decorate too; but please don't stuff
yourselves with sweets." "If Dora doesn't eat anything I shan't
either," said I promptly.
Evening. Yesterday was our last day at
school. The holidays are from the 23rd to January 2nd. It's glorious. I shall
be able to go skating every day. Of course I had no time to-day and shan't have
to—morrow. I wonder whether I should send the Gold Fairy a Christmas
card. I wish she had a prettier name. Anastasia Klastoschek; it is so ugly. All
Czech names are so ugly. Father knows a Count Wilczek, but a still worse name
is Schafgotsch. Nothing would induce me to marry anyone called Schafgotsch or
Wilczek even if he were a count and a millionaire. Yesterday we paid our
respects to the staff, Verbenowitsch and I went to Frau Doktor because she is
fondest of us, or is said to be. Nobody wanted to go to Professor Rigl,
Igel, we always say Nikel, for when he has respects paid to him he always says:
"Aw ri'." But it would have been rude to leave him out and so the
monitors had to go. When Christmas was drawing near Frau Doktor told us that we
were none of us to give presents to the staff. "I beg you, girls, to bear
in mind what I am saying, for if you do not there will only be trouble. You
remember what happened on St. Nicholas' day. And you must not send anything to
the homes of the staff, nor must the Christ Child leave anything on any one's
doorstep." As she said this she looked hard at me and Edith Bergler, so
she knows who left the Krampus. I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open. Hurrah,
to-morrow is Christmas Eve!!!
December 24th. Christmas Eve afternoon is
horrid. One does not know what to be at. I'm not allowed to go skating so the
best thing is to write. Oswald came home yesterday. Everyone says he's looking
splendid; I think he's awfully pale and he snorted when everyone said he had
such a fine colour; of course, how can he look well when he has such a heartache.
I wish I could tell him that I understand what he feels, but he's too proud to
accept sympathy from me. He has wished for an army revolver for Christmas, but
I don't think he'll get one for boys at the middle school are not allowed to
have any firearms. Not long ago at a Gymnasium in Galicia one of the boys shot
a master out of revenge; they said it was because the boy was getting on badly
with his work, but really it was about a girl, although the master was 36 years
old. This morg. I was in town with Oswald shopping; we met the Warths, Elli and
. . . Robert. Oswald said that Elli was quite nice-looking but that Robert was
an ugly beast. Besides, he can't stand him he said, because he glared at me so.
If only he knew what happened in the summer! I was awfully condescending to
Robert and that made him furious. If one could only save you girls from all the
troubles which the world calls "Love," said Oswald on the way home. I
was just going to say "I know that you're unhappy in love and I can feel
for you," when Inspee came round the corner of the Bognergasse with her
chum and 2 officers were following them, so none of them saw us. "Great
Scott, Frieda's full-fledged now," said Oswald, "she's a little
tart." I can't stand that sort of vulgarity so I did not say another word
all the way home. He noticed and said to Mother: "Gretl's mouth has been
frozen up from envy." That's all. But it was really disgusting of him and
now I know what line to take.
Just a moment for a word or two. The whole
Christmas Eve has gone to pot. A commissionaire came with a bouquet for Dora
and Father is fuming. I wish I knew who sent it. I wonder if it was one of
those 2 officers? Of course Inspee says she has not the ghost of an idea. What
surprises me is that Oswald has not given her away. All he said was: I say,
what a lark! But Father was down on him like anything, "You hold your jaw
and think of your own beastly conduct." I didn't envy him; I don't think
much of Dora's looks myself, but apparently she pleases someone. In the
bouquet there was a poem and Dora got hold of it quickly before Father had seen
it. It was awfully pretty, and it was signed: One for whom you have made
Christmas beautiful! The heading is: "The Magic Season." I think
Dora's splendid not to give herself away; even to me she declares she does not
know who sent it; but of course that may be all humbug. I think it really comes
from young Perathoner, with whom she's always skating.
December 28th. I've had absolutely no time
to write. I got everything I wanted. Aunt Dora gave both of us an opera glass
in mother-of-pearl in a plush case. We are going to all the school
performances, Father's arranged it; he has subscribed to all the
performances during the school year 19— to 19—. I am so delighted
for Frau Doktor M. will come too. I do hope I shall sit next to her.
December 31st. To-day I wanted to read
through all I have written, but I could not manage it but in the new year I
really must write every day.
January 1st, 19—. I must write a few
sentences at least. For the afternoon we had been invited to the Rydberg's the
Warths were there and Edle von Wernhoff!! I was just the same as usual with
Lisel but I would not say a word to R. They left before us, and then Heddy
asked me what was wrong between me and R. He had said of me: Any one can have the
black goose for me. Then he said that any one could take me in. I was so
stupid that I would believe anything. I can't think what he meant, for he never
took me in about anything. Anyhow I would not let him spoil new year's
day for me. But Hella is quite right for if the first person one meets on
January 1st is a common person that's a bad beginning. The first thing this
morning when I went out I met our old postman who's always so grumpy if he's
kept waiting at the door. I looked the other way directly and across the street
a fine young gentleman was passing, but it was no good for the common postman
had really been the first.
January 12th. I am so angry. We
mayn't go skating any more because Inspee has begun to complain again of her
silly old ears and Mother imagines that she got her earache last year skating.
It's all right to keep her at home; but why shouldn't I go? How
can I help it when she gets a chill so easily? In most things
Father is justice itself, but I really can't understand him this time. It's
simply absurd, only it's too miserable to call it absurd. I'm in a perfect
fury. Still, I don't say anything.
February 12th. I have not written for a
whole month, I've been working so hard. To-day we got our reports. Although
I've been working so frightfully hard, again I only got a 2 in Diligence. Frau
Doktor M. made a splendid speech and said: As you sow, so you shall reap. But
that's not always true. In Natural History I did not know my lesson twice but I
got a 1, and in History I only did not know my lesson once and I got
Satisfactory. Anyhow Fraulein V. does not like me because of that time when I
did not bow to her in the tram. That is why in January, when Mother asked about
me, she said: "She does not really put her back into her work." I
overheard Father say: After all she's only a kid, but to-day he made a
frightful row about the 2 in Diligence. He might have known why she gave me
that. Dora, so she says, has only ones, but she has not shown me the
report. I don't believe what I don't see. And Mother never gives her away to
me.
February 15th. Father is furious because
Oswald has an Unsatisfactory in Greek. Greek is really no use; for no one uses
Greek, except the people who live in
February 20th. I met the Gold Fairy
to-day. She spoke to me and asked why I did not come skating any more. The
fancy dress Ice Carnival on the 24th was splendid she said. I said: Would you
believe it, a year ago my sister had an earache, and for that reason
they won't allow either of us to skate this year. She laughed like
anything and said so exquisitely: Oh, what a wicked sister. She looked
perfectly ravishing: A red-brown coat and skirt trimmed with fur, sable I
believe, and a huge brown beaver hat with crepe-de-chine ribbons, lovely. And
her eyes and mouth. I believe she will marry the man who is always going about
with her. Next autumn, when we get new winter clothes, I shall have a fur
trimmed red-brown. We must not always be dressed alike. Hella and Lizzi are
never dressed alike.
March 8th. I shall never say another word
to Berta Franker she's utterly false. I've such a frightful headache because I
cried all through the lesson. She wrote to Hella and me in the arithmetic
lesson: A Verhaltnis ** means something quite different. Just at that
moment the mistress looked across and said: To whom were you nodding? She said:
To Lainer. Because she laughed at the word "Verhaltnis." It was not
true. I had not thought about the word at all. It wasn't till I had read the
note that it occurred to Hella and me what Verhaltnis means. After the
lesson
** The German word Verhaltnis as used in the arithmetic lesson means ratio, proportion. The word is in common use in Germany
March 10th. To-day Berta Franke wanted to
talk things out with us; but Hella and I told her we would not speak to her
again. We told her to remember what sort of things she had said to us.
She denied it all already. We shouldn't be such humbugs. It was mean of her.
Really we didn't know anything and she told us all about it. Hella has
told me again and again she wished we didn't know anything. She says she's
always afraid of giving herself away and that she often thinks about that sort
of thing when she ought to be learning her lessons. So do I. And one often
dreams about such things at night when one has been talking about them in the
afternoon. Still, it's better to know all about it.
March 22nd. I so seldom manage to write
anything, first of all our lessons take such a lot of time, and second because
I don't care about it any more since what Father said the other day. The last
time I wrote was on Saturday afternoon, and Father came in and said: Come along
children, we'll go to Schonbrunn. That will do you more good than scribbling
diaries which you only go and lose when you've written them. So Mother told
Father all about it in the holidays. I couldn't have believed it of Mother for
I begged her to promise not to tell anyone. And she said: One doesn't promise
about a thing like that; but I won't tell anyone. And now she must have told
about it, although she said she wouldn't. Even Franke's deceitfulness was
nothing to that for after all we've only known her since last autumn, but I
could never have believed that Mother would do such a thing. I told Hella when
we were having tea at the
March 27th. Hurrah we're going to Hainfeld
for Easter; I am so delighted. Mother has a friend there whose husband is
doctor there, so she has to live there all the year round. Last year in the
winter she and