When my father at last made my
mother his wife, the burgomaster of her native city told him that he
gave to his keeping the pearl of Rotterdam. Post-horses took the young
couple in the most magnificent weather to the distant Prussian capital.
It must have been a delightful journey, but when the horses were
changed in Potsdam the bride and groom received news that the latter's
father was dead.
So my parents entered a house of mourning. My mother at that time
had only the slight mastery of German acquired during hours of
industrious study for her future husband's sake. She did not possess in
all Berlin a single friend or relative of her own family, yet she soon felt
at home in the capital. She loved my father. Heaven gave her children,
and her rare beauty, her winning charm, and the receptivity of her mind
quickly opened all hearts to her in circles even wider than her husband's
large family connection. The latter included many households whose
guests numbered every one whose achievements in science or art, or
possession of large wealth, had rendered them prominent in Berlin, and
the "beautiful Hollander," as my mother was then called, became one of
the most courted women in society.
Holtei had made her acquaintance at this time, and it was a delight to
hear her speak of those gay, brilliant days. How often Baron von
Humboldt, Rauch, or Schleiermacher had escorted her to dinner! Hegel
had kept a blackened coin won from her at whist. Whenever he sat
down to play cards with her he liked to draw it out, and, showing it to
his partner, say, "My thaler, fair lady."
My mother, admired and petted, had thoroughly enjoyed the happy
period of my father's lifetime, entertaining as a hospitable hostess or
visiting friends, and she gladly recalled it. But this brilliant life, filled
to overflowing with all sorts of amusements, had been interrupted just
before my birth.
The beloved husband had died, and the great wealth of our family,
though enough remained for comfortable maintenance, had been much
diminished.
Such changes of outward circumstances are termed reverses of fortune,
and the phrase is fitting, for by them life gains a new form. Yet real
happiness is more frequently increased than lessened, if only they do
not entail anxiety concerning daily bread. My mother's position was far
removed from this point; but she possessed qualities which would have
undoubtedly enabled her, even in far more modest circumstances, to
retain her cheerfulness and fight her way bravely with her children
through life.
The widow resolved that her sons should make their way by their own
industry, like her brothers, who had almost all become able officials in
the Dutch colonial service. Besides, the change in her circumstances
brought her into closer relations with persons with whom by inclination
and choice she became even more intimately associated than with the
members of my father's family--I mean the clique of scholars and
government officials amid whose circle her children grew up, and
whom I shall mention later.
Our relatives, however, even after my father's death, showed the same
regard for my mother--who on her side was sincerely attached to many
of them--and urged her to accept the hospitality of their homes. I, too,
when a child, still more in later years, owe to the Beer family many a
happy hour. My father's cousin, Moritz von Oppenfeld, whose wife was
an Ebers, was also warmly attached to us. He lived in a house which he
owned on the Pariser Platz, now occupied by the French embassy, and
in whose spacious apartments and elsewhere his kind heart and tender
love prepared countless pleasures for our young lives.
CHAPTER II.
MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD
My father died in Leipzigerstrasse, where, two weeks after, I was born.
It is reported that I was an unusually sturdy, merry little fellow. One of
my father's relatives, Frau Mosson, said that I actually laughed on the
third day of my life, and several other proofs of my precocious
cheerfulness were related by this lady.
So I must believe that--less wise than Lessing's son, who looked at life
and thought it would be more prudent to turn his back upon it--I
greeted with a laugh the existence which, amid beautiful days of
sunshine, was to bring me so many hours of suffering.
Spring was close at hand; the house in noisy Leipzigerstrasse was
distasteful to my mother, her soul longed for rest, and at that time she
formed the resolutions according to which she afterward strove to train
her boys to be able men. Her first object was to obtain pure air for the
little children, and room for the larger ones to exercise. So she looked
for a residence outside the gate, and
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