dead.

So my parents entered a house of mourning. My mother at that time had
only the slight mastery of German acquired during hours of industrious
study for her future husband's sake. She did not possess in all Berlin a
single friend or relative of her own family, yet she soon felt at home in
the capital. She loved my father. Heaven gave her children, and her rare
beauty, her winning charm, and the receptivity of her mind quickly opened
all hearts to her in circles even wider than her husband's large family
connection. The latter included many households whose guests numbered
every one whose achievements in science or art, or possession of large
wealth, had rendered them prominent in Berlin, and the "beautiful
Hollander," as my mother was then called, became one of the most courted
women in society.

Holtei had made her acquaintance at this time, and it was a delight to
hear her speak of those gay, brilliant days. How often Baron von
Humboldt, Rauch, or Schleiermacher had escorted her to dinner! Hegel had
kept a blackened coin won from her at whist. Whenever he sat down to play
cards with her he liked to draw it out, and, showing it to his partner,
say, "My thaler, fair lady."

My mother, admired and petted, had thoroughly enjoyed the happy period of
my father's lifetime, entertaining as a hospitable hostess or visiting
friends, and she gladly recalled it. But this brilliant life, filled to
overflowing with all sorts of amusements, had been interrupted just
before my birth.

The beloved husband had died, and the great wealth of our family, though
enough remained for comfortable maintenance, had been much diminished.