island
fishermen had weathered an unusually severe gale, it was their custom
to make a model of their craft, and to present it as a thank-offering
to the church. There were dozens of these models, all beautifully
finished, suspended from the roof of the church by wires, and the
fronts of the galleries were all hung with fishing nets. The singing in
that church was remarkably good.

It was a pleasant, unsophisticated little island; a place of fresh
breezes, and red cliffs with great sweeping surges breaking against
them; a place of sunshine, and huge expanses of pale dappled sky.

Lady Maxse told me that it was impossible for any one to picture the
unutterable dreariness of Heligoland in winter; when little Government
House rocked ceaselessly under the fierce gales, and the whole island
was drenched in clouds of spindrift; the rain pounding on the
window-panes like small-shot, and the howling of the wind drowning all
other sounds. She said that they were frequently cut off from the
mainland for three weeks on end, without either letters, newspapers, or
fresh meat, as the steamers were unable to make the passage. There was
nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one to speak to. It must have been
a considerable change for any one accustomed to the life of careless,
easy-going, glittering Vienna in the old days. Even Sir Fitzhardinge
confessed that during the winter gales he had frequently to make his
way on all fours from the stairs from the Underland to Government
House, to avoid being blown over the cliffs. Lady Maxse hung an extra
pair of pink muslin curtains over every window in Government House, to
shut out the sight of the wintry sea, but the angry, grey and white
rollers of the restless North Sea asserted themselves even through the
pink muslin.

I am glad that I saw this wind-swept little rock whilst it was still a
scrap of British territory. When my time came for leaving Brunswick, I
was genuinely sorry to go. I confess that I liked Germany and the
Germans; I had been extremely well treated, and had got used to German
ways.

The teaching profession were only then sowing broadcast the seed which
was to come to maturity thirty years later. They were moulding the
minds of the rising generation to the ideals which find their most
candid exponent in Nietzsche. The seed was sown, but had not yet
germinated; the greater portion of Germany in 1875 was still
un-Prussianised, but effect followed cause, and we all know th