Pages, Paths, and Practicalities

  ‘In the present age, when education is within the reach of all, both rich and poor, every lady will endeavour to become, not only well educated, but accomplished. It is not, as some will assert, a waste of time or money. Not only the fingers, voice, and figure are improved, but the heart and intellect will become refined, and the happiness greatly increased.’

  Florence Hartley, “The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness”

  As I embarked on my journey of self-discovery, I found a place that suited my requirements. I was, after all, a young lady who was in terrible need of some guidance. The institution I discovered was founded upon the premise of the misfortune of lost children—the tragic tales of wayward souls who had lost their caretakers in all manner of tragedies, separating parents and children.The supervisor, a stout woman by the name of Mrs Klein, was a delightful maternal figure to learn from. My initial opinion of the good mistress of the children’s shelter was a humble one. She seemed like a typical character of the fair gender; taking care of children as her profession was indeed a charitable one, but nonetheless praiseworthy. While I expected these types of institutions to radiate a more pious flair, I found her approach satisfactory. As my initiation to work in this charitable place began, I learnt many domestic skills that had eluded me before. For instance, I found great joy in the culinary arts. However, we mostly cooked hearty meals instead of refined ones. I shall not complain about matters of the palate when the circumstances demand practicality, especially with limited resources. A heartbreaking affair that such an altruistic institution had so few funds. That said, it seems now even more astonishing that Mrs Klein navigated through these meagre finances with remarkable ease. A true lady who was a skilled mistress of her household. In this context, I was an aide and maid, a helping hand to learn from such a devoted woman. Her parental skills were not lacking either. She commanded these wayward children with both authority and motherly supervision seamlessly. Rowdy, chaotic daredevils transformed into chagrined, innocent cherubs in an instant! I tried to imitate her style to encompass authority and guidance; however, I often felt overwhelmed by the sheer energy of these little boys and girls! Alas, one cannot fault their upbringing; their conduct is excused by their age and class.

  Mrs Klein knew exactly how to handle her idle wards, usually with group activities in the evening and bigger events on the weekends. On a delightful Saturday morning, today’s plan was to visit the local library. An exciting prospect and an opportune time to gather intelligence. As we marched on our adventure, we arrived shortly at the library entrance. The building itself was odd. I expected a rather archaic structure; instead, it was a square-shaped, mostly orange-coloured building marked with large glass windows, making it seem as if it had glass walls. A rather curious modern style that felt foreign to my sensibilities. Nonetheless, I entered these revered halls with enthusiasm. Books and knowledge awaited!

  We got a little tour guide from an elderly librarian gentleman. The building itself was not a large library, but it was a decent-sized one. Academic and in-depth literature was rather scarce. However, general information was excellent as a beginning, especially when every child was limited to borrowing seven books. My feet carried me immediately towards the literary book sections. I was excited to see the local collection; as humble as they might be, I was certain that they would quench my thirst for the written arts.

  Two shelves consumed most of my attention, to my own detriment, I must confess: German literature and English literature. Though both categories possessed an undeniable charm, neither would offer much in terms of advancing my immediate circumstances. Especially when I was already a connoisseur of English literature. Nevertheless, it put a smile on my countenance when I held The Importance of Being Earnest in my hand. Truly one of the most humorous pieces of literature mankind has to offer. At times, I would just burst out in undignified laughter thinking about this witty play. Oh, the joy! I resumed my foray into the realm of books—mostly those concerning history, geography, and culture, as well as the city I currently inhabit. I collected dozens of books and planned to read some of them in the short time I was allowed in the library. In my foray of acquiring intelligence, I found the history regarding this very city remarkable.

  As an adamant enthusiast of the written word, I must confess a certain curiosity towards the subject of our history. The reality we inhabit is, indeed, a fascinating one, though at times I find it rather dreary. Yet, there are moments and times that captivate my attention utterly, as they do now. Germany, alas, went through a remarkable transformation in the last century, fraught with turmoil and unrest. Terrific times, indeed. Dresden, the name of my home city, has numerous scars of historic events. The original architecture of the city seemed to be inspired by the classic Gothic style, seen in many buildings and churches. Nonetheless, the Saxons were inspired by the Italian peninsula and decided to copy the Baroque style. A fashion that became poplar in Europe, but one that turned out to be indeed quite beautiful. This is particularly true for Dresden’s most famous building, the Church of Our Lady. I have made a mental note to venture into the inner city to marvel at its architecture. After the ghastly events of war and chaos, Dresden managed to rise from the ashes. Not in all its former glory, for it was not a light endeavour to do so, as the male working force was unavailable while mostly women were tasked with the restoration efforts. They were coined “Rubble Women,” a term that invokes both the devastation of war and the resilience of people. During the period of Russian influence, Dresden began to build industrialised living blocks. A rather stark contrast compared to the old classical style the city could boast prior to its restoration. It was utilitarian and a product of necessity, even if I lament a pang of regret towards the lost beauty. During my historical studies, I asked Mrs Klein, a true and bred Saxon lady, about her opinion of the Rubble Women. She seemed highly sceptical about the motivations of these depictions of such heroic women. Indeed, her answer was filled with cynicism, for she accused these valiant women of being a product of state propaganda and publicity. It seemed to me that the hardiness and resourcefulness of these German women carried on and created a mentality that is vigorous and resilient to this day. Mrs Klein’s unfiltered mannerism is forgivable because her station and role demand a more pragmatic approach to life. It is her prerogative to prioritise the care and survival of her wards instead of focusing on ideals and dreams.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  As our time in the library neared its end, I made the difficult choice to reduce the number of books to the seven I would be able to take with me. A rather difficult decision, especially because I was enamoured with the classics, of which I decided to keep four—half of them titles I already knew by heart. One may criticise my decadent choice, deeming it a departure from a more pragmatic path. Yet, I am only a young girl, easily tempted by the finer pleasures in life and prone to the occasional flight of fancy and hysteria. The remaining books included topics of herbology, etiquette, and culture.

  On our way home, I asked Mrs Klein if I might visit the library in my leisure time. To my dismay, she refused my request. I must admit, for the remainder of the day, I was exceedingly cross with our mistress. How dare she deny me such a simple pleasure? A small voice in my head acknowledged the childishness of my reaction, yet I remained outwardly calm and composed in my conduct. In fact, I would argue that I was the very picture of ladylike decorum. Clearly, I required no praise or external validation to maintain my poise. During the evening, I managed to calm my spirits by starting to read. And what a delightful distraction it was indeed! The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette by Florence Hartley was an enlightening piece on proper conduct. Who else but an elderly gentleman to educate a young girl on decorum and conduct? I realised my mistake. A proper young lady should go out with a caretaker or chaperone. How silly of me to think otherwise. Yet, surely with age I shall be able to be my own chaperone. I daresay so!

  The next day, Sunday, began with a hearty breakfast. One of my delights, bread with butter, was indeed an enjoyable treat. One curiosity was the blackberry tea, as it seemed to be foraged and not a product of commerce.

  We planned an excursion. In an organised fashion, every child was linked together with another one as we marched through the scenic city. It was rather endearing to see these little ones being so orderly for once! The city itself had a charm that was marked by a few oddities—the diverse architecture and the different styles, to name a few. I made a mental note to myself to enquire about the city at a later date. On the topic of our destination, Mrs Klein decided to frequent the local forest. As an admirer of nature myself, I do indeed enjoy the gardens and botanic delights. However, the woods were a rather wild choice for a lady. Alas, a rowdy child might feel more enjoyment in the raw, untamed corners of nature. A fitting decision, I admitted. As we traversed and left the urban scenery, we reached the outskirts leading to the woods. We were greeted with the Heath, the city’s forest, a remarkable scene of autumn’s delight. How rarely does one admire such a sight? I basked in the beauty and sublime colouration of the season of harvest. I took a deep breath. The air felt clearer, and my mind felt lighter. The fresh wind carried the smell of old wood, decomposing leaves, and earth. A soothing fragrance washed over my body and soul, invigorating me as we marched deeper into the forest path. After we reached a clearing, we unpacked and made camp, mostly by spreading blankets on the forest ground.

  On the note of our caretaker, Mrs Klein was a peculiar woman. At first, I regarded her as a compassionate maternal figure, taking charge of the children with a demeanour fitting of her station and gender. However, her resourcefulness and ingenuity surprised me. Her plethora of remarks and knowledge about herbalism was impressive. She encouraged the children to seek out a variety of plants and herbs. From mugwort and stinging nettle leaves to edible mushrooms and roots! A truly abundant amount of trivia and expertise. And I must confess, I was impressed by Mrs Klein’s skills. A lot of her knowledge was highly interesting as well. They were also rather delightful in their practical usage! My favourite insight was the amount of teas one could brew with these various plants. The decadence of choice a lady could arrange within the context of a soirée was remarkable! While the other children tried to emulate their mistress and foraged various plants for Mrs Klein to identify, she had already collected various blackberries and their leaves to brew a tea with her electric kettle. How delightful! That is how she acquires her tea supply, I mused.

  I enjoyed the rather aromatic and fruity tea yet again. Our mistress demonstrated various other plants and their usefulness. Granted, the medical properties of herbs were intriguing, but ultimately less applicable to me. In contrast, the more flavourful aspects of flora and fauna held my utmost attention instead. The excursion turned out to be rather insightful and enlightening. As our time in the forest ran its course, we left without much fanfare. I looked forward to visiting nature again.

  During nighttime, in my musings, I revised my opinion on Mrs Klein. I thought about one particular demonstration on the dandelion from the previous day; it left a deep impression on me. I could not help but compare our caretaker with such a resilient flower. Life itself often felt arbitrary and aimless. Like the flying seeds of the dandelion in the wind, we might not always choose where to land. The paths we take are often filled with elements we cannot influence. However, we still grow and take root, even in the harshest of conditions. Much like a flower, we flourish and blossom. As Mrs Klein remarked on the singular flaw of the dandelion, its bitter flavour, I could not help but think about life. But who expects life to be without any trials and tribulations? Do we not all struggle in the grand theatre of our own making as we try to fit into our little roles?

  And Mrs Klein’s role was not that of a hapless woman. She was a practical person, possessing both the determination and the skill to not only survive but also thrive in her purpose. I must admit, she was an inspiring character. The path of altruism crossed my mind. Perhaps I, too, could become someone as remarkable as Mrs Klein in my adult life. She fulfils her duty commendably, even if it restricts our freedom to some extent. Nevertheless, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Are we not born with free will and a creative mind? What is an obstacle but an unsolved problem? There is so much to learn and too much to contemplate. I smiled as I thought about tomorrow. The future is uncertain and vague, often filled with surprises and mishaps. However, it does not excuse inactivity and complacency. I am the lord and master of my own destiny. And like the meticulous grandmaster schemes his next move on the chessboard, I strategise mine. Less like a scientist or militant, but more like a dreamer, an artist’s stroke on the grand canvas of life.