DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0035
THE STUDIO OF WILHELM VON KAULBACH.
19
murmur—a very hymn of nature. And there, seated
beneath those elder trees in full bloom, before the desolate
grey house, is a group of merry, brown-eyed children,
playing with a beautiful white rabbit, while a large, saga-
cious mastiff sleeps beside them.
And now, opposite to you, across the field, and half
hidden by thickets and a group of poplars, you see the
studio; two grey wings, with a higher centre. All is
bowery and green, overhung with vines and creepers.
Opposite the grey wooden door in the centre of the build-
ing, and lying in a thicket, you see capitals and various
fragments of broken columns arranged as seats around
another capital, larger than the rest, which serves as a table.
Close upon the threshold of the studio stands a peacock,
displaying his handsome tail, his gorgeous green and blue
neck glancing in the sun. He and his wife and young
ones are doing all in their power to tempt forth the artist
to feed them with a loving hand, as is his wont. These
peacocks are great favourites, and know it too; you may
see their portraits painted in steriochromie upon the outer
wall of the studio, beneath a window, where they are fes-
tooned with living sprays of vine. All is a pleasant, quiet
dream without■ green and shady, yet with glittering,
dancing showers of sunshine breaking through the branches
as they are stirred by a light passing breeze.
“ Very mitidy all this !” remarks your Englishman, re-
calling his trim lawn and shrubbery at home: “ a boy
is wanted here to pull up these rank weeds, and a roller
to roll that gravel and grass ! CanT think what Kaulbach
is after, to let all run so to rum I”
But Kaidabch, and many another artist, rejoices in all
these docks and darnels, in this rank growth, in this un-
pruned, unfettered nature. He loves his vines, his hops,
his nettles and thistles, and his myriads of wild, lovely
19
murmur—a very hymn of nature. And there, seated
beneath those elder trees in full bloom, before the desolate
grey house, is a group of merry, brown-eyed children,
playing with a beautiful white rabbit, while a large, saga-
cious mastiff sleeps beside them.
And now, opposite to you, across the field, and half
hidden by thickets and a group of poplars, you see the
studio; two grey wings, with a higher centre. All is
bowery and green, overhung with vines and creepers.
Opposite the grey wooden door in the centre of the build-
ing, and lying in a thicket, you see capitals and various
fragments of broken columns arranged as seats around
another capital, larger than the rest, which serves as a table.
Close upon the threshold of the studio stands a peacock,
displaying his handsome tail, his gorgeous green and blue
neck glancing in the sun. He and his wife and young
ones are doing all in their power to tempt forth the artist
to feed them with a loving hand, as is his wont. These
peacocks are great favourites, and know it too; you may
see their portraits painted in steriochromie upon the outer
wall of the studio, beneath a window, where they are fes-
tooned with living sprays of vine. All is a pleasant, quiet
dream without■ green and shady, yet with glittering,
dancing showers of sunshine breaking through the branches
as they are stirred by a light passing breeze.
“ Very mitidy all this !” remarks your Englishman, re-
calling his trim lawn and shrubbery at home: “ a boy
is wanted here to pull up these rank weeds, and a roller
to roll that gravel and grass ! CanT think what Kaulbach
is after, to let all run so to rum I”
But Kaidabch, and many another artist, rejoices in all
these docks and darnels, in this rank growth, in this un-
pruned, unfettered nature. He loves his vines, his hops,
his nettles and thistles, and his myriads of wild, lovely