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Updated: June 27, 2025
She talked of American art and the Colorado pictures of Moran, which she had seen and admired; of German art and the Madonna painted by Knaus for the Russian Empress, which Miss Wolfe had given the Metropolitan Museum at New York; and in reply to my congratulations upon a recent successful public speech of her eldest son, a student at Bonn, she had dwelt, in a motherly way, upon the difficulties which environ a future sovereign at a great university.
It was a great pleasure to find Adolf Menzel, Ludwig Knaus, Carl Beeker, Anton von Werner, and Paul Meyerheim, though grown gray in their beautiful ministry, still daily at work in their studios. Three only of my friends of the older generation in the Berlin faculty remained; and as I revise these lines the world is laying tributes upon the grave of the last of them Theodor Mommsen.
Very delightfully dwell in my memory, also, some evenings at the palace, when, after the main ceremonies were over, Knaus, Becker, and Auerbach wandered with me through the more distant apartments and galleries, pointing out the beauties and characteristics of various old portraits and pictures.
Knaus unwittingly wrote his character and his epitaph: "Ich kann warten." The forest of Les Errues was deathly still. Hunters and hunted both were as silent as the wild things that belonged there in those dim woods as cautious, as stealthy. A dim greenish twilight veiled their movements, the damp carpet of moss dulled sounds.
It surprised me to find Holman Hunt so absorbed in his own art that he apparently knew next to nothing about that of other European masters, nothing of Puvis de Chavannes at Paris; nothing of Menzel, Knaus, and Werner at Berlin. Having returned to America, I was soon settled in my old homestead at Cornell, as I supposed for the rest of my life.
Our first meeting was shortly after my arrival, at a large dinner, where, as the various guests were brought up to be introduced to the new American minister, there was finally presented a little, gentle, modest man as ``Herr Knaus. I never dreamed of his being the foremost genre-painter in Europe; and, as one must say something, I said, ``You are, perhaps, a relative of the famous painter. At this he blushed deeply, seemed greatly embarrassed, and said: ``A painter I am; famous, I don't know.
Acquaintance with professors at other universities. Literary men of Berlin. Auerbach. His story of unveiling the Spinoza statue. Rodenberg. Berlin artists. Knaus; curious beginning of my acquaintance with him. Carl Becker.
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