Recollections of My Childhood and Youth | Page 2

just as great fun, though, when the big people said to him:
"Would you like to be a fat lamb? Let us play at fat lamb." He would be
flung over the man's shoulder, like a slaughtered lamb, and hang there,
or jump up and ride with his legs round the man's hips, then climb
valiantly several steps higher, get his legs round his shoulders, and
behold! be up on the giddy height! Then the man would take him round
the waist, swing him over, and after a mighty somersault in the air, he
would land unscathed on his feet upon the floor. It was a composite
kind of treat, of three successive stages: first came the lofty and
comfortable seat, then the more interesting moment, with a feeling,
nevertheless, of being on the verge of a fall, and then finally the jump,
during which everything was upside down to him.
But, too, he could take up attitudes down on the floor that added to his
importance, as it were, and obliged the grown-up people to look at him.
When they said: "Can you stand like the Emperor Napoleon?" he would
draw himself up, bring one foot a little forward, and cross his arms like
the little figure on the bureau.
He knew well enough just how he had to look, for when his stout,
broad- shouldered Swedish uncle, with the big beard and large hands,
having asked his parents about the little fellow's accomplishments,
placed himself in position with his arms crossed and asked: "Who am I
like?" he replied: "You are like Napoleon's lackey." To his surprise, but
no small delight, this reply elicited a loud exclamation of pleasure from
his mother, usually so superior and so strict, and was rewarded by her,
who seldom caressed, with a kiss.
II.
The trying moment of the day was when he had to go to bed. His
parents were extraordinarily prejudiced about bedtime, just when he
was enjoying himself most. When visitors had arrived and conversation
was well started--none the less interesting to him because he
understood scarcely half of what was said--it was: "Now, to bed!"
But there were happy moments after he was in bed, too. When Mother
came in and said prayers with him, and he lay there safely fenced in by

the tall trellis-work, each bar of which, with its little outward bend in
the middle, his fingers knew so well, it was impossible to fall out
through them. It was very pleasant, the little bed with its railing, and he
slept in it as he has never slept since.
It was nice, too, to lie on his back in bed and watch his parents getting
ready to go to the theatre, Father in a shining white shirt and with his
curly hair beautifully parted on one side Mother with a crêpe shawl
over her silk dress, and light gloves that smelled inviting as she came
up to say goodnight and good-bye.
III.
I was always hearing that I was pale and thin and small. That was the
impression I made on everyone. Nearly thirty years afterwards an
observant person remarked to me: "The peculiarity about your face is
its intense paleness." Consequently I looked darker than I was; my
brown hair was called black.
Pale and thin, with thick brown hair, difficult hair. That was what the
hairdresser said--Mr. [Footnote: Danish Herre.] Alibert, who called
Father Erré: "Good-morning, Erré," "Good-bye, Erré." And all his
assistants, though as Danish as they could be, tried to say the same.
Difficult hair! "There is a little round place on his crown where the hair
will stand up, if he does not wear it rather long," said Mr. Alibert.
I was forever hearing that I was pale and small, pale in particular.
Strangers would look at me and say: "He is rather pale." Others
remarked in joke: "He looks rather green in the face." And so soon as
they began talking about me the word "thin" would be uttered.
I liked my name. My mother and my aunts said it in such a kindly way.
And the name was noteworthy because it was so difficult to pronounce.
No boy or girl smaller than I could pronounce it properly; they all said
Gayrok.
I came into the world two months too soon, I was in such a hurry. My
mother was alone and had no help. When the midwife came I had
arrived already. I was so feeble that the first few years great care had to
be taken of me to keep me alive. I was well made enough, but not
strong, and this was the source of many vexations to me during those
years when a boy's one desire and one ambition is to be strong.
I was not