(From Helen Gauss, Jr. to her brother Theodore)
Schrader's Hotel
Brunswick, 24 July, 1911
Dear Theodore -
Here we are in the haunts of our ancestors - last night strolling
round the corner, bareheaded, into the old marketplace, gazing on the
same buildings that our great-grandfather did before us - seeing that
the towering old church and the fine old Gothic Rathaus both date from
the 12th and 13th centuries; and most of the other
buildings from at least one to three centuries back. The town is fascinatingly
picturesque - churches and "schlosses" galore, all the way from the
11th century down, and streets full of lovely old houses
with the projecting upper stories you see in pictures. The Gauss-haus,
dating from 1720, looks almost modern beside some of them. But to get
down to facts, we almost evaporated day before yesterday on our way
here from Berlin, 3½ hours, and the hottest day we've struck yet, unless
yesterday beat it. It was 7.30 when we arrived, though, so we drove
"in the cool of the evening" to this hotel - not starred in Baedeker
- nor in our own minds since. But stars always come high, and as we
have very comfortable first-floor front rooms, and a good dinner yesterday
to make up for defects in Saturday night's supper - also two very
nice English ladies to bear us company (of other guests we've seen no
sign), we're tolerably satisfied; its an old house of good reputation
- only not excessively grand - probably the best a few years back. I
think these lengthy remarks on the same are because I feel rather responsible
for being here, thinking Aunt Mary didn't want to go to high, though
none of us have liked it since. But we were all influenced in its favor
when the man showing us rooms asked if our name might be Gauss - and
said that a gentleman had left word that if we came here, he was to
be immediately notified, as he wished to take us round and show us all
the Gauss memorials. It was quite a "glad hand" to be met with - and
we didn't deny the allegation. Next morning, accordingly, (yesterday)
at 10.30 he arrived, and proved, as we had thought, to be a friend of
Carl Gauss in Hameln, who had written asking him to do this. He is an
elderly man, an ex "Court Opera Singer", and famous as such, we've since
learned from seeing his photographs in the Museum there*, where we also
found silver and bronze medallions such as we have, and a fine bronze
relief - a smaller edition of our plaster one. To proceed with the morning,
however, - he walked us about the streets, from the hotel past some
interesting ld buildings which he pointed out, first to what he called
the Honig-Kuchen house, because of its slice-like shape, tall and narrow,
- the grand new Schloss, only a stone's throw farther down the street
and blocking its end. But in this house Gauss' father lived before his
son's birth. It's now a bier shop, but looks well kept-up and perfectly
preserved. Then from there we proceeded presently to the school Gauss
attended, a nice old building with the sun streaming in the school-room
windows, and from there to the Gauss birth house, where we were cordially
received by the present owner and his wife, and spent an hour or more
in the room (front, to the right of the door) where are gathered some
relics - this room arranged only since last April - and altogether through
the efforts of this Herr Hieb who took us round. I'll enclose his card
for Papa's benefit, thinking he might very properly drop him a few lines
of appreciation of his interest and kindness to us. He said he supposed
few members of the family took half the interest in these matters that
he, an outsider, did. But he doesn't speak English and probably doesn't
read it easily - so I don't mean to spur Papa on to a long letter; just
a note of appreciation. I'm sure Mama will write you details in full,
so I'll out. But the enclosed scrap of paper, in pencil, gives the various
mottoes of Gauss, put up singly, on the walls of the room - just cardboard,
printed, I mean; and also the inscription on the back of the monument
- sent to you, but intended for Papa's perusal. The house-owner is just
a working-man, but gives the room for this purpose, for what there may
be in it in fees for him. We all wrote our names in his guest-book -
not yet very full, as the room was opened only in April - but two pages
covered, Carl Gauss of Hameln heading the list. From there we passed
the old church to which Gauss went - where he was baptized and confirmed;
and then went to the statue, which stands at the foot of a wooded hill,
facing a fine park with some beautiful places along its drive, just
outside, I suppose - though with their beautiful grounds seeming almost
a part of it. Well - that finished the morning, with a street car back
to the hotel; and in the afternoon we rested a while and then went to
the Museum, where we saw the medallions I spoke of - in two adjoining
very old churches, one dating from the 11th century, I think.
That evening we rather hung round the hotel waiting for Herr Heib again,
but he failed to appear then, as also next morning. Wife sick and servant
off on vacation. But as we were heading hotel-ward for dinner Monday
noon, we fortunately ran into him as he was just leaving, after bringing
us the newspaper we send - about the Gauss room dedication in April.
He explained his troubles and failure to appear earlier - and was most
kind - though I wish he could have spoken English, as Mamma did of course
still more. The ducal museum, the Schloss, the cathedral, and in the
afternoon the statue and house again, as also a street-car ride through
the better residence section, and trips to the parks - Oh! And also
a trip to another Gauss house, where his father had lived, and which
I liked better than the birth house, I think; it was more picturesque;
- all this finished the day, and us too, pretty nearly. Then a hot trip
to Hanover that evening, a hunt for rooms after nine o'clock, with a
miserably poor result; and on top of it all, the discovery that I had
sent the wrong forwarding address to Paris, and left it in Berlin. I
telegraphed that same night to Paris and hope we don't lose any letters,
though fear we may. They had the wrong address both in Paris and Berlin,
from July 22 (Paris possibly July 21) until the 25th. I inquired
at the Hanover postoffice, and also here (Hildesheim) but so far get
track of no mail. Perhaps this helped to use up Aunt Mary, on top of
the heat and our general exertions. Anyway, Monday night and Tuesday
she was almost collapsed - and we are genuinely alarmed about her condition
- though she won't see a doctor, and won't consent to stop the trip
- at least not yet. Later I fear she may be forced to, and only wish
she would now - or rather, after Goettingen, which will mean no great
exertion. Her heart troubles her, and she feels miserable, aside from
the constant trouble she has with her head. But she insists on going
about just the same - which is what distresses us. She was plainly miserable
in Hanover, though, and so eager to get out of it and come here to rest
up, that we stayed only the 24 hours, going out to the Royal Schloss
and Park, with its remarkable tropical green-houses, etc., in the morning;
and in the afternoon, having a long and delightful call with two of
our Hartmann cousins, though the one Papa and I have written to is just
now in England. They have a pretty, modern house in a charming part
of the city, and served us coffee and cakes, and were delightful to
meet - particularly the older one, Paula, who quite won my heart. We
stayed two hours and then took the train here, where we're at the best
hotel the town affords no marvel, and are proceeding to rest, as well
as we can for the heat. If only Aunt Mary would see a doctor, we could
tell better; but I don't think we can finish the trip as originally
planned - i.e., stops in Holland, Belgium and England, before Paris;
and for my part, I hope we don't. It's too terribly worrying for enjoyment.
This is fearfully long - but there was a lot to say, and I haven't even
said I was glad the house was rented!
Goodbye and lots of love from -
Helen.
* Brunswick, this letter was finished in Hildesheim.
Home
