DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0247
CONVERSATION WITH A PAINTER.
231
CHAPTER XXIII.
CONVERSATION WITH A PAINTER.-THE FRESCOES OF THE
NEW PINAKOTHEK AND STERRIO-CHROMIE.
March 12th.—In conversation to-day with a Munich
painter, I chanced to observe what a great charm, for me,
the character of Munich had,—not alone its churches, its
pictures, its galleries, its beautiful and quaint houses, but
its whole poetical dreamy character : I loved the mild
oxen yoked in the heavy wagons, the peasants, the vil-
lages, the Isar, the desolate plain, and the glorious chain of
Alps, with a peculiar and an indefinable love.
“ But,” observed he, “ there is one feature in Munich
life from which you, unfortunately, as a woman, have been
cut off,—the jovial, poetical, quaint life of the artists
among themselves. This is a great pity, for you would
have so much enjoyed it,—the life of the artists, I mean, in
their Kneips, with their festivals and odd usages.” And
then he went on to tell me how gay the artists here
usually are during Carnival time, and described one of
their masked balls, where all is deliciously artistic and
poetic. This year and last, however, people, “ said he,
have been too much dispirited by all these political troubles
to have heart for such merriment. But the meetings at
their Kneips! those were delightful, poetical, artistic!
Then too, in May, there is the May Festival, when all the
painters go forth, with their wives and children, to Starn-
berg, where they spend a day full of beauty and merri-
ment upon the lake, and among the woods, and make huge
231
CHAPTER XXIII.
CONVERSATION WITH A PAINTER.-THE FRESCOES OF THE
NEW PINAKOTHEK AND STERRIO-CHROMIE.
March 12th.—In conversation to-day with a Munich
painter, I chanced to observe what a great charm, for me,
the character of Munich had,—not alone its churches, its
pictures, its galleries, its beautiful and quaint houses, but
its whole poetical dreamy character : I loved the mild
oxen yoked in the heavy wagons, the peasants, the vil-
lages, the Isar, the desolate plain, and the glorious chain of
Alps, with a peculiar and an indefinable love.
“ But,” observed he, “ there is one feature in Munich
life from which you, unfortunately, as a woman, have been
cut off,—the jovial, poetical, quaint life of the artists
among themselves. This is a great pity, for you would
have so much enjoyed it,—the life of the artists, I mean, in
their Kneips, with their festivals and odd usages.” And
then he went on to tell me how gay the artists here
usually are during Carnival time, and described one of
their masked balls, where all is deliciously artistic and
poetic. This year and last, however, people, “ said he,
have been too much dispirited by all these political troubles
to have heart for such merriment. But the meetings at
their Kneips! those were delightful, poetical, artistic!
Then too, in May, there is the May Festival, when all the
painters go forth, with their wives and children, to Starn-
berg, where they spend a day full of beauty and merri-
ment upon the lake, and among the woods, and make huge