DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0058
42
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
music, and criticise all the faces and toilettes that pass
before us. I wish Alfred were here to-day; we would
for a few hours be as little in the clouds as he could wish !
I see some capital dinners going along the streets. I
trust our capital dinner will soon appear; we are always
ravenous about 12 o’clock. And, a-propos of dinners, we
had anything but a ceremonious dinner the other day.
We usually dine at the Meyerischen Garten, where they
have orders when it is wet to send our dinners to the
studio. Last Friday, therefore, the sky suddenly clouding
over about eleven, after a most brilliant morning, when we
had gone forth sans cloak, sans clogs, sans everything
necessary for a wet day, we awaited the advent of our first
studio-meal with the intensest impatience, not unmingled
with a slight uneasiness as to its not appearing at all! The
loud-ticking clock told quarter after quarter, till at length
one o’ clock arriving without the dinner, and the rain still
pouring down in torrents, and we delighting in the con-
sciousness of the thinnest of boots and muslin dresses, and
a wet field of long grass to pass through before arriving at
the region of Braten and Mehlspeise, were forced to
summon all our philosophy, and cry, “ dinner go hang !”
Dinner indeed ! We working in the studio of a great
master, and yet longing for our dinners ! No, we would
forget prosaic hunger, and satisfy our craving in the after-
noon at home. Just having reached this point of heroism,
there is a knock at the door, and enter a short, broad-
built, merry brown woman, with a face not unlike a
mulatto’s, the resemblance even increased by her wearing
a bright-coloured handkerchief on her head. Ah ! we know
that beloved countenance—that countenance of our friend
the kitchen-maid at the Meyerisclten Garten. Beloved
kitchen-maid, with thy bare feet and thy big basket, well
dost thou deserve to be celebrated in verse ! Would that
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
music, and criticise all the faces and toilettes that pass
before us. I wish Alfred were here to-day; we would
for a few hours be as little in the clouds as he could wish !
I see some capital dinners going along the streets. I
trust our capital dinner will soon appear; we are always
ravenous about 12 o’clock. And, a-propos of dinners, we
had anything but a ceremonious dinner the other day.
We usually dine at the Meyerischen Garten, where they
have orders when it is wet to send our dinners to the
studio. Last Friday, therefore, the sky suddenly clouding
over about eleven, after a most brilliant morning, when we
had gone forth sans cloak, sans clogs, sans everything
necessary for a wet day, we awaited the advent of our first
studio-meal with the intensest impatience, not unmingled
with a slight uneasiness as to its not appearing at all! The
loud-ticking clock told quarter after quarter, till at length
one o’ clock arriving without the dinner, and the rain still
pouring down in torrents, and we delighting in the con-
sciousness of the thinnest of boots and muslin dresses, and
a wet field of long grass to pass through before arriving at
the region of Braten and Mehlspeise, were forced to
summon all our philosophy, and cry, “ dinner go hang !”
Dinner indeed ! We working in the studio of a great
master, and yet longing for our dinners ! No, we would
forget prosaic hunger, and satisfy our craving in the after-
noon at home. Just having reached this point of heroism,
there is a knock at the door, and enter a short, broad-
built, merry brown woman, with a face not unlike a
mulatto’s, the resemblance even increased by her wearing
a bright-coloured handkerchief on her head. Ah ! we know
that beloved countenance—that countenance of our friend
the kitchen-maid at the Meyerisclten Garten. Beloved
kitchen-maid, with thy bare feet and thy big basket, well
dost thou deserve to be celebrated in verse ! Would that