On the stone over the coffin in the interior of the mausoleum is the Schlieffen coat of arms and the annexed inscription:—
Martin Ernst
von Schlieffen,
formerly Lieutenant-General and Minister of State
of the Landgrave of Hesse,
afterwards Royal Prussian Lieutenant-General
and Governor of the Fortress
of Wesel,
Knight of the Prussian Orders of the Black and Red Eagle,
And of the Hessian Orders of the Golden Lion,
And of Merit.
Born the 30th October, 1732,
At Sudenzig, near Gallnow,
in Pomerania. Died the 15th Septb., 1825,
at Windhausen.
This life of retirement at Windhausen was passed by the “refugee from the world,” as he was fond of calling himself, in giving a park-like character to, and ornamenting with various buildings, the two estates purchased with the money he had himself earned. This afforded him frequent opportunities of being in the open air and indulging in exercises conducive to health. Once or twice a week he rode, followed by two servants, to Cassel, where he possessed in the Königsplatz, or King’s Square, a house which he had built in the days of his grandeur. The rest of his time was devoted to his friends, with whom he maintained a correspondence; to his monkeys, whom he spoiled by petting; to his classics, which he was never tired of reading; and to his Memoirs, which he continued from year to year.
The Memoirs, intended only for his relations, were published in the year 1840, at Berlin, under the title, Some Occurrences and Experiences in the Life of Martin Ernst von Schlieffen. They contain very interesting information relating to the history of his own times, especially on account of the great number of letters printed in them. They commence with a genealogy of the Von Schlieffen family. With pedantic anxiety the author has avoided all foreign words. It was, in fact, a strange hobby of the “historian of his Sept,” as he also sometimes designated himself, never to employ a word borrowed from another language, though he usually spoke French, and took a pleasure in arranging Latin and Greek proverbs and inscriptions for votive tablets, which he had hung up at his favourite spots at Windhausen and Schlieffenberg. In his old friend, Johannes von Müller, whom, as Ministerial Secretary of the young Kingdom of Westphalia, Fate brought back to Cassel in the year 1807, he found nothing to blame except that, in his immortal books, Müller would not entirely discard the horrible foreign words. But the comic part of the business was that in the invention of German words, which Herr von Schlieffen employed in lieu of foreign ones generally in use, he was decidedly unfortunate, and to understand the words invented by him we must first have a key. This was something, however, which he felt himself, for, as a rule, he added the foreign word in a parenthesis. In addition to this he was noted for certain turns or rather contortions of expression which considerable increased the difficulty experienced by the uninitiated in understanding his book, the value of which was, however, not nullified by these eccentricities. But there was another caprice of the old gentleman, which annoyed, troubled, and plagued in the highest degree the inmates of Windhausen—that is to say, the entire establishment, from the bailiff and gamekeepers down to the dairymaid. This was his affection for his monkeys.
There was a large troop of these tailless, long-armed, brown foreigners at Windhausen, and “the general who has sought refuge from the woods” had placed his whole estate unconditionally at their disposal. They ran about as they chose, and contracted marriages among themselves, so that the oldest speedily beheld, despite the unusual climate, a hopeful circle of healthy sons, daughters, and grandchildren assembled around them. This circumstance was, however, observed by all the human population of the estate, except the General, with dissatisfaction and uneasiness, for scarcely a day passed that one person or another had not reason to complain of the monkeys. They were regarded as a public curse, and it needed all the intensity of the affection, gratitude, and attachment felt towards the old gentleman, for people not to weary of looking with indulgence on this fancy of his. The ill-behaved Africans did nothing but mischief. They soiled the rooms, smashed plates and dishes, ruined the gardens, waged war, frequently to their own great disadvantage, with the beehives, and plucked the fruit from the trees, merely to throw it away as soon as they had tasted it, or fling it at the heads of those persons who might be passing by. No one who had to traverse the small wood ever escaped unmolested; the monkeys would hang on to the clothes of one person, or frighten another by suddenly dashing across his path. All this the worthy General considered exceedingly funny. Distinguished above all their companions, however, for slyness and a love for playing wild pranks, were two large monkeys, Tommy and Troll.
One day a countryman came to Windhausen for the purpose of paying the interest of a loan which the General had advanced him. The bailiff asked him to be seated, and, having had some breakfast brought in for him, left the room for a short time, as he had just been called away to look at some sick beast. The countryman, meanwhile, counted his money and drank a glass of the brandy of the country without the slightest misgiving, when all of a sudden the door was opened gently, and in walked Tommy. For some time he remained close to the door, staring the unknown visitor in the face. He then walked round the table at which the countryman was seated, and finished by placing himself exactly in front of him, grinning and showing his teeth, with his left elbow leaning on the table and his right one stuck in his side. The countryman was struck dumb, and felt his hair stand on end with affright. There he sat, as though the terrible head of Medusa had thrown its spell over him. His face, which had become the colour of lead from superstitious fear, appeared to amuse the brute not a little. At length Tommy had looked at the countryman long enough; his sharp glance fell upon the bright thalers on the table, and he was just stretching out his hand to appropriate some, when something he considered still more desirable—namely, the butter-dish—caught his eye. He took it, sans façon, off the table, and, seating himself on a cask near the stove, devoured the lump of butter, smacking his lips the while. He then put back the empty dish. The return of the bailiff at last rescued the countryman from the state of fright in which he was.
“Hulloa, my boy!” said the bailiff, laughing, and casting a glance at the empty dish, “you seem to have liked the butter at any rate!”
“He did it, Mr. Bailiff!” groaned the countryman, nodding his head timidly at Tommy, as though he feared being at least eaten up by the monkey in consequence of this denunciation.
“What! has the fat blackguard dared to do such a thing?” exclaimed the bailiff very angrily, and at the same time springing towards the window, in the embrasure of which was a riding-whip, “Wait a moment, I’ll pay you out!”
But Tommy, who saw the storm approaching, was in such a hurry to escape from it, that at the door he nearly knocked over his comrade Troll, who was coming in quite innocently. As the two monkeys were very like each other, and the bailiff had not, in his anger, remarked the lucky escape of the malefactor, he seized hold of old Troll by the throat, and believing he had caught the one who had stolen the butter, gave him an awful thrashing. During this time Tommy stood in the courtyard, wiping his greasy mouth, and scratching himself, with a puzzled air, behind his ear, looking up as he did so at the bailiff’s window, through which the howling of his innocent and unjustly-castigated brother found its way to him.