Altogether, not too bad an entertainment for the money, which was one mark per head—Lagergeld, we having not yet been supplied with ordinary currency. This was the first night I had been out after dark since my capture, and it was pleasant to step free upon the pavement, and to see the comfortable lights in the shops. At a second cinema entertainment, we had—by request—a series of pictures showing German soldiers at work and play in rest billets.
In the outskirts of the forest stood the Gesellschaft Gasthaus, with, in the window, announcement of an entertainment in the form of an acrobatic act by “Les Original Alfonso Geissler.” The handbill, highly coloured, represented in one part of it, Monsieur, in evening dress, and with all the suavity of the dove, making request for a glass of beer from Mademoiselle at a public bar; in a second tableau discovers him, sloughed of his garb of respectability and, arrayed in multi-coloured tights, displaying all the cunning and pliancy of the serpent in marvellous contortions among the barroom properties. The proprietor informed us that he and his wife and three sons—one the hero of the handbill—were all travelling acrobats, that they had appeared frequently in England, and that they were in Sweden when the war broke out. It was observable that during the entertainment—which, despite the bill, proved to be entirely cinematographic—the proprietor obtained his incidental music by making demand upon several of the talented among the audience.
In this connection a rather notable incident occurred, though here it seemed to pass without note. A boy of about fourteen, who had earned his admission by operating the cinema for the major part of the evening, came quietly forward, took the violin from the rather faltering hand of a young soldier who had been agonizing for the last hour, and commenced to play with a sure and virile bow. He proved to be a friend of our German soldier pianist, and like him has studied at the Berlin Conservatorium.
Sketching in the Streets
I was now allowed to sketch freely in the streets without hindrance or interruption, save for the presence of the younglings, which, after all, need not prove distracting or disconcerting. On the contrary, it may be even stimulating. Their criticism, for one thing, is largely enthusiastic, and this sometimes proves contagious. “Fein!” “Hübsch!” The pencil probably makes effort to prove worthy of such compliment. Then again, there is generally something patient and gently apologetic in the presence of a child, while one grown-up looking over the shoulder is usually sufficient for disconcertment.
I am sketching the Kirchestrasse. The name, however, is not visible at my end of the street, and I make inquiry of the little girl who for the last ten minutes has been standing quietly by my side. She misunderstands me at first, and upon my sketch-block writes her own name, “Charlotte Reseler.” There let it remain to add the value of a memory to the drawing.
On one such sketching expedition I was overtaken by a motor-waggon, packed with German soldiers, straight from the front, who seemed somewhat surprised to see me thus walking alone through the streets of the town with a sketch-block under my arm. The waggon was decorated with fir branches, while chalked upon the sides were such inscriptions as “Nach der Heimat!” In the streets also were decorations, flags and fir festoons, and garlands bearing the legend, “Willkommen!” One thing, however, cannot be lifted from these streets, nor lightened into them, and that is the dejection of defeat; the flush of victory.
THE OLDEST HOUSE IN BEESKOW.
I was sketching what is, since the burning of the “Grüne Baum,” the oldest house in Beeskow. I had hardly started, when the proprietor of the shop in the lower part of the building came running over, and, talking too rapidly for my entire comprehension, gave me to understand at least that he desired something added to my sketch. He disappeared, and in a few minutes there was unfurled from an upper window a great chocolate and white flag of Brandenburg. A little boy had all this while stood quietly by my side, save when, quite unbidden, he went over, and placed himself by the front of the house, just at the proper spot, that I might put him into the picture.