The Grandmother: A Story of Country Life in Bohemia

The Grandmother: A Story of Country Life in Bohemia

Bozena Nemcova 

Table of Contents

Chapter I.

Chapter II.

Chapter III.

Chapter IV.

Chapter V.

Chapter VI.

Chapter VII.

Chapter VIII.

Chapter IX.

Chapter X.

Chapter XI.

Chapter XII.

Chapter XIII.

Chapter XIV.

Chapter XV.

Chapter XVI.

Chapter XVII.

Chapter I.

IT was long, long ago, when last I gazed on that dear face, kissed those pale, wrinkled cheeks, and tried to fathom the depths of those blue eyes, in which were hidden so much goodness and love. Long ago it was when, for the last time, those aged hands blessed me. Our Grandmother is no more; for many a year she has slept beneath the cold sod.

But to me she is not dead. Her image, with its lights and shadows, is imprinted upon my soul, and as long as I live, I shall live in her. Were I master of an artist’s brush, how differently, dear Grandmother, would I glorify you! but this sketch — I know not, I know not how it will please. But you used to say, “Upon this earthy ball, not a soul that pleases all.” If, then, a few readers shall find as much pleasure in reading about you as I do in writing, I shall be content.

Grandmother had three children, a son and two daughters. For many years the older daughter lived with relatives in Vienna; when she married, the younger took her place. The son, a mechanic, worked at his trade in a small town in Bohemia, while Grandmother dwelt in a village upon the borders of Silesia. Her family consisted of herself and Betsey, an old servant who had been in the family ever since Grandmother could remember.

Grandmother did not live the life of a recluse; all the people of the village were to her brothers and sisters; she was to them a mother, a counsellor, and a friend. No christening, wedding, or funeral could go on without her. The course of her life was so even, her days were so busy and happy, that she desired no change—she would have been content to live thus forever.

This even course of life was disturbed by a letter. Grandmother often received letters from her children, but none ever came before, fraught with such momentous questions for her to solve. It was from her daughter in Vienna, who told her mother that her husband had obtained service in the household of a certain princess, whose estates were but a few miles distant from the village where Grandmother lived, and that he was to be at home with his family during the summer only, while the princess lived in the country, and therefore it was their earnest desire that Grandmother should come to live with them. Indeed, no excuse would be accepted, as both she and the children had set their hearts upon it and were eagerly looking for her arrival.

Upon reading this letter Grandmother burst into tears. She did not know what to do. She loved her daughter, and her heart yearned towards her grandchildren whom she had not seen; on the other hand, the good people of the village were very dear to her, and it was hard to break away from all the old associations. But blood is thicker than water. After much tossing up of the matter, her maternal instincts came to the aid of her convictions, and she decided to go. The old cottage, with all it contained, was given over into the care of Betsey with these words: “I don’t know how I shall like it there; and perhaps, after all, I shall die here among you.”

A few days after this a wagon stood at the door of the cottage. Wenzel, the driver, placed upon it Grandmother’s large flowered chest; her featherbeds tied in a sheet; the spinning wheel, to her an indispensable piece of furniture; a basket, containing four top - knotted chickens; and a bag with a pair of party - colored kittens. Last, but not least, came Grandmother herself, her eyes red from weeping. It was no wonder that she wept; for around her stood the villagers, who had come to bid her farewell, and followed by their blessing she rode slowly to her new home.

What bright anticipations, what rejoicing at The Old Bleachery,—for thus the people called the isolated house that had been assigned to Grandmother’s daughter, Mrs. Proshek, as her home on the estates of the princess. Every few moments the children ran out to the road to see if Wenzel was coming; and every passer by heard the wondrous news that Grandma was coming. The children kept asking each other, “How do you suppose Grandma will look?”

They knew several grandmas, whose images were curiously confounded in their little heads, and they could not decide to which of them their own could be compared.

At last the long expected team arrived. “Grandma’s come!” shouted the children in a chorus. Mr. and Mrs. Proshek rushed out to meet her; Betty, the maid, followed carrying the youngest child, and behind her came the three children accompanied by the two dogs, Sultan and Tyrol.

The wagon stopped at the gate, and Wenzel helped a little old woman to alight. She was dressed in the garb of a peasant, having her head wrapped up in a large white kerchief.