PETer C Meyer Author
Peter Meyer's new website
Here is a sample chapter of::
IN MY ENEMY'S SERVICE - A Memoir
1 HOW NOT TO MAKE A FATHER
Karl and Caroline (the flirt)
Meyer circa 1860
Clara Herrmann Meyer (holding
me) and Hegemeister
(forester) Traugott Meyer, my grandparents, 1929
Once
married, she helped her husband entertain his noble guests and also
organized villagers into theatrical groups which performed for visiting
tourists. She also ran a finishing school from her home for daughters of
high-society friends from Berlin. The Meyers had two children, a
daughter Waldtraut who died of diphtheria in one of the stark winters
when snow prevented the doctor’s timely visit. Their other child,
Hubert, suffered under his father’s strict supervision. Traugott simply
copied the harsh hand he had experienced in his own youth when his own
father all but rejected him.
But there was perhaps more to Hubert’s character than too much parental
control. His rebellious ways caused the Meyers to blame themselves for
having conceived this child in a state of intoxication in August of
1897. They had attended a party at a distant friend’s home and were
quite inebriated when their horse trotted them home. The swaying
carriage over unpaved trails awakened amorous feelings, and they stopped
the horse to recline on the moss-lined forest floor. Nine months later
on March 9, 1898, their son Hubert was born. By 1907 however, just nine
years later, they sent him away because he had become too much of a
problem. His last escapade at home was not a pleasant one and
jeopardized the family’s name and position. Young society ladies filled
their house that day – finishing school students – who enjoyed the
comforts of the Meyers’ inside toilet facility. Other villagers still
walked through ice and snow to the customary outhouse with the little
heart carved into the door. The Meyers’ facility was fixed with a
comfortable seat placed over a long tubelike shaft that ended in a
barrel one flight down. The barrel sat on a cart from which it was
regularly emptied on the dung heap to become next year’s fertilizer. On
the day in question, Hubert entertained himself by carefully craning his
neck upward to spy on the rear ends of ladies answering nature’s call
one floor above. He had found a long enough stick and tickled the last
visitor from below. And how he savored her screams, he said, when later
in life he recalled the story. The incident caused outrage. Most of the
finishing school students immediately departed for Berlin, where the
story placed the Meyers in disfavor.
Hubert Meyer at age 18: my
sadistic father-to-be