THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
provided three-pronged iron forks; for cutting, the folk used their own pocketknives. The foreman dealt out the black bread in large chunks; white bread was given only on festive occasions. During the meal not a word was spoken, and when the foreman laid down his knife it was the signal that the repast was over. It goes without saying that he always allowed the people a sufficiency of food. They arose, again turned their backs to the table, repeated a prayer and separated, each to his or her task.
During the time that the servants were taking their meal my grandmother busied herself with the help of a scullery maid at the big fireplace, preparing breakfast for the family. On one side of the hall a few steps led up into a smaller, though spacious, room, also with a vaulted ceiling. A long table stood in the middle, surrounded by chairs, of which several were upholstered in leather and adorned with bright copper nails. A wide window, with a strong outward-curved iron grating, opened into the courtyard and allowed a full view of whatever took place there. This apartment was the living-room of the family, and served also as a dining-room, except upon great occasions, when the feast was spread in “The Saal,” on the opposite side of the servants' hall. This living-room was my grandmother's headquarters. It had a small window, cut through the wall into the folk-hall, for the purpose of enabling her to oversee whatever happened there; and through it her voice was at times to be heard instructing or reproving. When the autumn and winter evenings came she gathered around her the maid servants, of whom there were a dozen or more, with their spinning wheels. Then the flax was spun which supplied the house with linen; and while the wheels whirred the girls sang, my grandmother encouraging them by setting the tunes. The men, meanwhile, came in from the stables and workshops
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