Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schütz, Trautmann, Nothnagel, and Junker,
were called to him. They showed their finished pictures, and the Count
bought what were for sale. My pretty, light room in the gable-end of
the attic was given up to him, and immediately turned into a cabinet
and studio, for he designed to keep all the artists at work for a long
time, especially Seekatz of Darmstadt, whose pencil, particularly in
simple and natural representations, highly pleased him. He therefore
caused to be sent from Grasse, where his elder brother possessed a
handsome house, the dimensions of all the rooms and cabinets; then
considered with the artists, the divisions of the walls, and fixed
accordingly upon the size of the large oil-pictures, which were not
to be set in frames, but to be fastened upon the walls like pieces
of tapestry. And now the work went on zealously. Seekatz undertook
country scenes, and succeeded extremely well in his old people and
children, which were copied directly from nature. His young men did
not answer so well, they were almost all too thin, and his women
failed from the opposite cause. For as he had a little, fat, good, but
unpleasant-looking wife, who would let him have no model but herself,
he could produce nothing agreeable. He was also obliged to exceed
the usual size of his figures. His trees had truth, but the foliage
was over minute. He was a pupil of Brinkmann, whose pencil in easel
pictures is not contemptible.
Schütz, the landscape painter, had perhaps the best of the matter.
He was thoroughly master of the Rhine country, and of the sunny tone
which animates it in the fine season. Nor was he entirely unaccustomed
to work on a larger scale, and then he showed no want of execution or
keeping. His paintings were of a cheerful cast.
Trautmann _Rembrandtized_ some resurrection-miracles out of the New
Testament, and alongside of them set fire to villages and mills. One
cabinet was entirely allotted to him, as I found from the designs of
the rooms. Hirt painted some good oak and beech forests. His cattle
were praiseworthy. Junker, accustomed to the imitation of the most
elaborate Dutch, was least able to manage this tapestry-work, but he
condescended to ornament many compartments with flowers and fruits for
a handsome price.
As I had known all these men from my earliest youth, and had often
visited them in their studios, and as the Count also liked to have me
with him, I was present at the suggestions, consultations, and orders,
as well as at the deliveries of the pictures, and ventured to speak my
opinion freely when sketches and designs were handed in. I bad already
gained among amateurs, particularly at auctions, which I attended
diligently, the reputation of being able to tell at once what any
historical picture represented, whether taken from Biblical or Profane
History, or from Mythology; and even if I did not always hit upon the
meaning of allegorical pictures, there was seldom any one present who
understood it better than I. Often had I persuaded the artists to
represent this or that subject, and I now joyfully made use of these
advantages. I still remember writing a circumstantial essay, in which I
described twelve pictures which were to exhibit the history of Joseph;
some of them were executed.
After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in a boy, I
will mention a little disgrace which happened to me within this circle
of artists. I was well acquainted with all the pictures which had been
from time to time brought into that room. My youthful curiosity left
nothing unseen or unexplored. I once found a little black box behind
the stove; I did not fail to investigate what might be concealed in
it, and drew back the bolt without long deliberation. The picture
contained was certainly of a kind not usually exposed to view, and
although I tried to bolt it again immediately, I was not quick enough.
The Count entered and caught me--"Who allowed you to open that box?" he
asked, with all his air of a Royal Lieutenant. I had not much to say
for myself, and he immediately pronounced my sentence in a very stern
manner. "For eight days," said he, "you shall not enter this room." I
made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed most punctually,
so that the good Seekatz, who was then at work in the room, was very
much annoyed, for he liked to have mo about him; and, out of a little
spite, I carried my obedience so far, that I left Seekatz's coffee,
which I generally brought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged
to leave his work and fetch it, which he took so ill, that he almost
conceived a dislike to me.
[Side-note: French Theatre.]
It now seems necessary to state more circumstantially, and to make
intelligible how, under these circumstances, I made my way with more
or less ease through the French language, which, however, I had never
learned. Here, too, my natural gift was of service to me, enabling
me easily to catch the sound of a language, its movement, accent,
tone, and all other outward peculiarities. I knew many words from the
Latin; Italian suggested still more; and by listening to servants and
soldiers, sentries and visitors, I soon picked up so much that, if
I could not join in conversation, I could at any rate manage single
questions and answers. All this, however, was little compared to the
profit I derived from the theatre. My grandfather had given me a free
ticket, which I used daily, in spite of my father's reluctance, by dint
of my mother's support. There I sat in the pit, before a foreign stage,
and watched the more narrowly the movement and the expression, both
of gesture and speech, as I understood little or nothing of what was
said, and therefore could only derive entertainment from the action and
the tone of voice. I understood least of comedy, because it was spoken
rapidly, and related to the affairs of common life, of the phrases of
which I knew nothing. Tragedy was not so often played, and the measured
step, the rhythm of the Alexandrines, the generality of the expression,
made it more intelligible to me in every way. It was not long before
I took up Racine, which I found in my father's library, and declaimed
the pieces to myself, in the theatrical style and manner, as the organ
of my ear and the organ of speech, so nearly akin to that, had caught
it, and this with considerable animation, although I could not perceive
the connexion of a whole speech. I even learned entire passages by
rote, like a trained talking-bird, which was easier to me, from having
previously committed to memory passages from the Bible which are
generally unintelligible to a child, and accustomed myself to reciting
them in the tone of the Protestant preachers. The versified French
comedy was then much in vogue; the pieces of Destouches, Marivaux, and
La CHAISE, were often produced, and I still remember distinctly many
characteristic figures. Of those of Molière I recollect less. What made
the greatest impression upon me was the _Hypermnestra_ of Lemière,
which, as a new piece, was brought out with care and often repeated.
The _Devin du Village, Rose et Colas, Annette Lubin_, made each a
very pleasant impression upon me. I can even now recall the youths
and maidens decorated with ribands, and their gestures. It was not
long before the wish arose in me to see the interior of the theatre,
for which many opportunities were offered me. For as I had not always
patience to hear out the whole pieces, and often carried on all sorts
of games with other children of my age in the corridors, and in the
milder season even before the door, a handsome, lively boy joined us,
who belonged to the theatre, and whom I had seen in many little parts,
though only casually. He came to a better understanding with me than
with the rest, as I could turn my French to account with him, and he
the more attached himself to me because there was no boy of his age
or his nation at the theatre, or anywhere in the neighbourhood. We
also went together at other times, as well as during the play, and
even while the representations went on he seldom left me in peace. He
was a most delightful little braggart, chattered away charmingly and
incessantly, and could tell so much of his adventures, quarrels, and
other strange incidents, that he amused me wonderfully, and I learned
from him in four weeks more of the language, and of the power of
expressing myself in it, than can be imagined; so that no one knew how
I had attained the foreign tongue all at once, as if by inspiration.
In the very earliest days of our acquaintance he took me with him upon
the stage, and led me especially to the _foyers_, where the actors
and actresses remained during the intervals of the performance, and
dressed and undressed. The place was neither convenient nor agreeable,
for they had squeezed the theatre into a concert-room, so that there
were no separate chambers for the actors behind the stage. A tolerably
large room adjoining, which had formerly served for card-parties, was
now mostly used by both sexes in common, who appeared to feel as little
ashamed before each other as before us children, if there was not
always the strictest propriety in putting on or changing the articles
of dress. I had never seen anything of the kind before, and yet from
habit, after repeated visits, I soon found it quite natural.
[Side-note: "Derones" and his Sister.]
It was not long before a very peculiar interest of my own arose. Young
Derones, for so I will call the boy whose acquaintance I still kept up,
was, with the exception of his boasting, a youth of good manners, and
very courteous demeanour. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl
who was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, well-grown
girl, of regular form, brown complexion, black hair and eyes; her
whole deportment had about it something quiet, even sad. I tried to
make myself agreeable to her in every way, but I could not attract her
notice. Young girls think themselves far advanced beyond younger boys,
and while aspiring to young men, they assume the manner of an aunt
towards the boy whose first inclination is turned towards them.--With a
younger brother of his I had no acquaintance.
Often, when their mother had gone to rehearsals, or was out visiting,
we met at her house to play and amuse ourselves. I never went there
without presenting the fair one with a flower, a fruit, or something
else, which she always received very courteously, and thanked me for
most politely, but I never saw her sad look brighten, and found no
trace of her having given me a further thought. At last I fancied I
had discovered her secret. The boy showed me a crayon-drawing of a
handsome man, behind his mother's bed, which was hung with elegant silk
curtains, remarking at the same time, with a sly look, that this was
not papa, but just the same as papa; and as he glorified this man, and
told me many things in his circumstantial and ostentatious manner, I
thought I had discovered that the daughter might belong to the father,
but the other two children to the intimate friend. I thus explained to
myself her melancholy look, and loved her for it all the more.
My liking for this girl assisted me in bearing the extravagances of her
brother, who was not always within bounds. I had often to endure prolix
accounts of his exploits, how he had already often fought, without
wishing to injure the other--all for the mere sake of honour. He had
always contrived to disarm his adversary, and had then forgiven him;
nay, he was such a good fencer, that he was once very much perplexed by
striking the sword of his opponent up into a high tree, so that it was
not easy to be got again.
What much facilitated my visits to the theatre was, that my free
ticket, coming from the hands of the _Schultheiss_, gave me access to
any of the seats, and therefore also to those in the proscenium. This
was very deep, after the French style, and was bordered on both sides
with seats, which, surrounded by a low rail, ascended in several rows
one behind another, so that the first seats were but a little elevated
above the stage. The whole was considered a place of special honour,
and was generally used only by officers, although the nearness of the
actors destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a measure,
all enjoyment. I have thus experienced and seen with my own eyes the
usage or abuse of which Voltaire so much complains. If, when the
house was very full at such time as troops were passing through the
town, officers of distinction strove for this place of honour, which
was generally occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were
placed in the proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing remained
for the heroes and heroines but to reveal their secrets in the very
limited space between the uniforms and orders. I have even seen the
_Hypermnestra_ performed under such circumstances.
The curtain did not fall between the acts, and I must yet mention
a strange custom which I thought quite extraordinary, as its
inconsistency with art was to me, as a good German boy, quite
unendurable. The theatre was considered the greatest sanctuary, and
any disturbance occurring there would have been instantly resented
as the highest crime against the majesty of the public. Therefore in
all comedies, two grenadiers stood with their arms grounded, in full
view, at the two sides of the back scene, and were witnesses of all
that occurred in the bosom of the family. Since, as I said before, the
curtain did not fall between the acts, two others, while music struck
up, relieved guard, by coming from the wings, directly in front of
the first, who retired in the same measured manner. Now, if such a
practice was well fitted to destroy all that in the theatre is called
illusion, this is the more striking, because it was done at a time
when, according to Diderot's principles and examples, the most _natural
naturalness_ was required upon the stage, and a perfect deception was
proposed as the proper aim of theatrical art. Tragedy, however, was
absolved from any such military-police regulations, and the heroes of
antiquity had the right of guarding themselves; nevertheless, the same
grenadiers stood near enough behind the side-scenes.
I will also mention that I saw Diderot's "Father of a Family," and
"The Philosophers" of Palissot, and still perfectly remember the figure
of the philosopher in the latter piece going upon all fours, and biting
into a raw head of lettuce.
[Side-note: Duel with "Derones."]
All this theatrical variety could not, however, keep us children
always in the theatre. In fine weather we played in front of it, and
in the neighbourhood, and committed all manner of absurdities, which,
especially on Sundays and festivals, by no means corresponded to our
personal appearance; for I and my comrades then appeared dressed as I
described myself in the tale, with the hat under the arm, and a little
sword, the hilt of which was ornamented with a large silk knot. One
day when we had long gone in this way, and Derones had joined us, he
took it into his head to assert to me that I had insulted him, and must
give him satisfaction. I could not, in truth, conceive what was the
cause of this; but I accepted his challenge, and was going to draw my
sword. However, he assured me that in such cases it was customary to
go to secluded spots, in order to be able to settle the matter more
conveniently. We therefore went behind some barns, and placed ourselves
in the proper position. The duel took place in a somewhat theatrical
style, the blades clashed, and the thrusts followed close upon each
other; but in the heat of the combat he remained with the point of his
sword lodged in the knot of my hilt. This was pierced through, and he
assured me that he had received the most complete satisfaction; then
embraced me, also theatrically, and we went to the next coffee-house
to refresh ourselves with a glass of almond-milk after our mental
agitation, and to knit more closely the old bond of friendship.
On this occasion I will relate another adventure which also happened to
me at the theatre, although at a later time. I was sitting very quietly
in the pit with one of my playmates, and we looked with pleasure at a
_pas seul_, which was executed with much skill and grace by a pretty
boy about our own age--the son of a French dancing-master who was
passing through the city. After the fashion of dancers, he was dressed
in a close vest of red silk, which ending in a short hoop-petticoat,
like a runner's apron, floated above the knee. We had given our meed
of applause to this young artist with the whole public, when--I know
not how--it occurred to me to make a moral reflection. I said to
my companion, "How handsomely this boy was dressed, and how well he
looked; who knows in how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night!"--All
had already risen, but the crowd prevented our moving. A woman who had
sat by me, and who was now standing close beside me, chanced to be the
mother of the young artist, and felt much offended by my reflection.
Unfortunately, she knew German enough to understand me, and spoke it
just as much as was necessary to scold. She abused me violently. Who
was I, she would like to know, that had a right to doubt the family and
respectability of this young man? At all events, she would be bound he
was as good as I, and his talents might probably procure him a fortune,
of which I could not even venture to dream. This moral lecture she
read me in the crowd, and made those about me wonder what rudeness I
had committed. As I could neither excuse myself nor escape from her, I
was really embarrassed, and when she paused for a moment, said without
thinking, "Well! why do you make such a noise about it?--to-day red,
to-morrow dead."[2] These words seemed to strike the woman dumb. She
stared at me, and moved away from me as soon as it was in any degree
possible. I thought no more of my words; only, some time afterwards,
they occurred to me, when the boy, instead of continuing to perform,
became ill, and that very dangerously. Whether he died or not, I cannot
say.
Such intimations, by an unseasonably or even improperly spoken word,
were held in repute even by the ancients, and it is very remarkable
that the forms of belief and of superstition have always remained the
same among all people and in all times.
From the first day of the occupation of our city, there was no lack of
constant diversion, especially for children and young people. Plays and
balls, parades, and marches through the town, attracted our attention
in all directions. The last particularly were always increasing, and
the soldiers' life seemed to us very merry and agreeable.
[Side-note: Marshal de Broglio.]
The residence of the King's Lieutenant at our house procured us the
advantage of seeing by degrees all the distinguished persons in the
French army, and especially of beholding close at hand the leaders
whose names had already been made known to us by reputation. Thus we
looked from stairs and landing-places, as if from galleries, very
conveniently upon the generals who passed by. Before all I remember
the PRINCE SOUBISE as a handsome, courteous gentleman, but most
distinctly the MARECHAL DE BROGLIO, who was a younger man, not tall,
but well-built, lively, active, and abounding in keen glances.
He often came to the King's Lieutenant, and it was soon remarked
that the conversation was on weighty matters. We had scarcely become
accustomed to having strangers quartered upon us in the first three
months, when a rumour was obscurely circulated that the Allies were
on the march, and that Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick was coming to
drive the French from the Maine. Of these, who could not boast of
any especial success in war, no high opinion was held, and after the
battle of Rossbach it was thought they might be dispersed. The greatest
confidence was placed in Duke Ferdinand, and all those favourable to
Prussia awaited with eagerness their delivery from the yoke hitherto
borne. My father was in somewhat better spirits--my mother was
apprehensive. She was wise enough to see that a small present evil
might easily be exchanged for a great affliction; since it was but
too plain that the French would not advance to meet the Duke, but
would wait an attack in the neighbourhood of the city. A defeat of the
French, a flight, a defence of the city, if it were only to cover their
rear and hold the bridge, a bombardment, a sack--all these presented
themselves to the excited imagination, and gave anxiety to both
parties. My mother, who could bear everything but suspense, imparted
her fears to the Count through the interpreter. She received the answer
usual in such cases: she might be quite easy, for there was nothing to
fear, and should keep quiet and mention the matter to no one.
Many troops passed through the city; we learned that they halted
at Bergen. The coming and going, the riding and running constantly
increased, and our house was in an uproar day and night. At this time
I often saw Marshal de Broglio, always cheerful, always the same in
look and manner, and I was afterwards pleased to find a man whose form
had made such a good and lasting impression upon me, so honourably
mentioned in history.
Thus, after an unquiet Passion-week, the Good-Friday of 1759 arrived.
A profound stillness announced the approaching storm. We children were
forbidden to quit the house: my father had no quiet, and went out. The
battle began: I ascended to the garret, where indeed I was prevented
seeing the country round, but could very well hear the thunder of
cannon and the general discharge of musketry. After some hours we saw
the first symptoms of the battle in a line of wagons, in which the
wounded, with various sad mutilations and gestures, were slowly drawn
by us, to be taken to the convent of St. Mary, now transformed into a
hospital. The compassion of the citizens was instantly moved. Beer,
wine, bread, and money were distributed to those who were yet able
to take them. But when, some time after, wounded and captive Germans
were seen in the train, the pity knew no limits, and it seemed as if
everybody would strip himself of every moveable that he possessed to
assist his suffering countrymen.
The prisoners, however, were an evidence of a battle unfavourable to
the allies. My father, whose party feelings made him quite certain that
these would come off victorious, had the violent temerity to go forth
to meet the expected victors, without thinking that the beaten party
must pass over him in their flight. He first repaired to his garden
before the Friedberg gate, where he found everything lonely and quiet,
then he ventured to the Bernheim heath, where he soon descried various
stragglers of the army, who were scattered and amused themselves by
shooting at the boundary-stones, so that the rebounding lead whizzed
round the head of the inquisitive wanderer. He therefore considered
it more prudent to go back, and learned on enquiry what the report of
the firing might have before informed him, that all stood well for the
French, and that there was no thought of retreating. Reaching home in
an ill-humour, the sight of his wounded and captured countrymen brought
him altogether out of his usual self-command. He also caused various
donations to be given to the passers by, but only the Germans were to
have them, which was not always possible, as fate had packed together
both friend and foe.
My mother and we children, who had already relied on the Count's word,
and had therefore passed a tolerably quiet day, were highly rejoiced,
and my mother doubly consoled, the next day, when having consulted
the oracle of her treasure-box, by the prick of a needle, she received
a very comfortable answer, both for present and future. We wished our
father similar faith and feelings; we flattered him as much as we
could; we entreated him to take some food, from which he had abstained
all day; but he repulsed our caresses and every enjoyment, and betook
himself to his chamber. Our joy, however, was not interrupted; the
affair was decided; the King's Lieutenant, who, against his habit, had
been on horseback to-day, at last returned home, where his presence was
more necessary than ever. We sprang to meet him, kissed his hands, and
testified our delight. This seemed much to please him. "Well," said
he more kindly than usual, "I am glad also for your sakes, my dear
children." He immediately ordered that sweetmeats, sweet wine, and the
best of everything should be given us, and went to his room, already
surrounded by a crowd of the urgent, the demanding, and the suppliant.
[Side-note: Quarrel with Count Thorane.]