DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0194
186 AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
from the platform down among the multitude ! How mad,
how mad they are ! And look ! look ! On comes a won-
derful crowd across the platform, a crowd of South
American Indians ! Look at their dusky forms clad in
jaguar skins ! Look at that noble figure clad in gold
tissue, and crowned with a tiara of orange and scarlet
feathers ! They are representatives of the various Mexican
tribes; their black locks are confined within glittering silver
diadems; their noses and ears are pierced with feathers,
golden rings, and porcupine quills; strange plates of brass
hang upon the breast of one ■, another carries his barbaric
weapons. Here, too, come Spanish-Mexicans; here negroes
with their hoes; here the planter in his broad straw hat and
loose white trousers and white coat! Ah, that planter is
Rugendas, the painter of strange Mexican scenes and
people, — Rugendas the painter and tropical traveller !
These Mexican costumes are those which he brought with
him as artistic spoil. And a wonderfully arranged Indian
procession it is.
But on, on, come yet other strange forms : a band of
hunters and warriors of the far-off Niebelungen time. It
took one’s very breath away with surprise, as warrior after
warrior marched along in his wondrous helmet, upon which
rose the lovely, expanded wings of hawk, and owl, and
heron• the helm wreathed with ivy-sprays, frequently, also,
covered entirely with fresh green moss, till it looked a por-
tion of the old primeval forest. Sometimes, between the
wings, rose the head of a hare, a fox, or other sylvan
creature; sometimes, instead of wings, the helmet was
crowned with branching antlers; sometimes the head was
covered with a hood which fell in simple folds around the
face, or tightly wrapped itself around the throat, but ever
these old Germans wreathed their brows with ivy or pine
twigs. Their whole garb was of a sylvan character; their
from the platform down among the multitude ! How mad,
how mad they are ! And look ! look ! On comes a won-
derful crowd across the platform, a crowd of South
American Indians ! Look at their dusky forms clad in
jaguar skins ! Look at that noble figure clad in gold
tissue, and crowned with a tiara of orange and scarlet
feathers ! They are representatives of the various Mexican
tribes; their black locks are confined within glittering silver
diadems; their noses and ears are pierced with feathers,
golden rings, and porcupine quills; strange plates of brass
hang upon the breast of one ■, another carries his barbaric
weapons. Here, too, come Spanish-Mexicans; here negroes
with their hoes; here the planter in his broad straw hat and
loose white trousers and white coat! Ah, that planter is
Rugendas, the painter of strange Mexican scenes and
people, — Rugendas the painter and tropical traveller !
These Mexican costumes are those which he brought with
him as artistic spoil. And a wonderfully arranged Indian
procession it is.
But on, on, come yet other strange forms : a band of
hunters and warriors of the far-off Niebelungen time. It
took one’s very breath away with surprise, as warrior after
warrior marched along in his wondrous helmet, upon which
rose the lovely, expanded wings of hawk, and owl, and
heron• the helm wreathed with ivy-sprays, frequently, also,
covered entirely with fresh green moss, till it looked a por-
tion of the old primeval forest. Sometimes, between the
wings, rose the head of a hare, a fox, or other sylvan
creature; sometimes, instead of wings, the helmet was
crowned with branching antlers; sometimes the head was
covered with a hood which fell in simple folds around the
face, or tightly wrapped itself around the throat, but ever
these old Germans wreathed their brows with ivy or pine
twigs. Their whole garb was of a sylvan character; their