And the conversation would be _vernünftig_, and the old people would say that the big towns were spoiling everything, that life was a hustle and a rush, that Fräulein So-and-so was _ein unverschämtes Wesen_, and would bewail, as in Heine’s lovely poem, that everything had been better in their time:
“Wie Lieb’ und Treu’ und Glauben Verschwunden aus der Welt, Und wie so teuer der Kaffee, Und wie so rar das Geld!”
And over all this scene, and through this talk, there would hang an indefinable wrapping of cosiness and warmth and _Gemüthlichkeit_, and one had the same sense of utter simplicity and intimate comfort that a fairy-tale of Grimm gives one. I wonder whether the charm and the simplicity have disappeared from Germany, and whether, in spite of Imperialism, the war, frightfulness, or anything else, the same thing goes on in the same way, in hundreds of houses and families!
In any case, whether it exists now or not, it existed then; and I was privileged to experience it, to enjoy it to the full, and to look back on it now, after so many years and when so much that is irreparable has come between it and me, with undying affection and gratitude, and with an infinitely sad regret.
Once during the war, I had luncheon with one of the R.F.C. Squadron Messes, where I met a pilot who had learnt German at the Timmes’. We talked of them, of Atho and of Kurt, whom he had known grown-up, and at the end of luncheon that pilot, who was just off to fight the Germans in the air, and who was so soon to meet with death in the air fighting the Germans, said to me: “_Prosit Timmes._”
In the summer, we would have tea in a little arbour in the garden, and in the mornings, both in winter and in the summer, towards eleven o’clock, when I was hungry, I would go and tell Frau Doktor, and she would take me to the kitchen and fry me herself some _Spiegeleier_ and _Speck_. Towards the beginning of my first summer at Hildesheim a new lodger arrived in the shape of a German boy called Hans Wippern, the son of a neighbouring landowner, who had a large farm just outside Hildesheim. Hans was at the school and was always hungry. One day he had a slight bilious attack and didn’t come down to _Mittagessen_, although he was much better. Frau Doktor said she thought Hans might fancy a pigeon. “_Nein_,” said Timme, “_Er soll hungern_” (“He must fast”). But Frau Doktor surreptitiously sent up three pigeons to his bedroom. The food was delicious at the Timmes’, and the great days were when we had _Kartoffeln-puffer_ for _Mittagessen_, a sort of pancake made of potatoes, or as a great treat “_Gänzebraten_.” I used to go to the market in the lovely old _Markt-platz_ with Frau Doktor on the days when she would buy a goose, and on the way back we would stop at Frau Brandes’ confectionery and have a slice of _Apfeltorte_. Frau Brandes was a warm, welcoming saleswoman, and her confectionery was perfect.