From Memory's Shrine: The Reminscences of Carmen SylvaSylva, Carmen
History
From Memory's Shrine: The Reminscences of Carmen Sylva
Sylva, Carmen
Queens -- Romania -- Biography; Sylva, Carmen, 1843-1916
That summer brought one great joy to the poor little invalid, the return
of his idolised elder brother, whose course of study had caused him to
absent himself from home for some years, and who had meanwhile developed
from a mere schoolboy into a tall youth. Otto’s excitement was so great,
that for the time being he felt no pain. Once more his laughter
resounded through the house, and even out into the woods, where we
lingered till quite late in those long, lovely summer days. Once more it
was quite a gay, lively, youthful party that collected round the
tea-table, and our merriment was so infectious that our elders would
often pause in their serious conversation to listen to the nonsense we
talked, and join in our peals of laughter. An exhibition of celebrated
pictures had just been opened in Cologne, and we all went over there one
day to see them. The cartoons by Cornelius attracted Otto’s attention
more than all the rest, and he stood for a long time contemplating the
one, concerning whose subject the rest of our party--although there were
several scholars and artists with us--could not be agreed. To their
astonishment, when the boy at last took his eyes off the picture, he
said very quietly--“I know what it is!” and proceeded to describe in
every detail the scene from the Odyssey, which it did indeed depict.
So long as his brother was in the house, Otto would not stir from his
side. His admiration for the big elder brother, for his health and
strength, was most touching, and it was refreshing to hear his generous
outburst of indignation at any remark he considered in the slightest
degree disparaging to his idol. Were there but the faintest hint of
criticism, he would blaze up: “Wilhelm has beautiful eyes and splendid
teeth, and is very, very clever!” In the warmth and sincerity of his
heart, he could understand no grudging affection, no measured qualified
praise. And this warm-heartedness was probably his greatest source of
happiness, providing him with more glad hours than might well have been
deemed possible in an existence so fraught with pain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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