The Student Life of Germany Part 11

I am the life--I have rent the great secret out of the bosom of Nature.

I am the sun, the love, the goodness, a secret that the common cla.s.s of men have to thank the learned for. From year to year I have continually learned more thoroughly the contents of the surface of the earth. I am, however, only allowed to divulge certain glimpses of this knowledge, and I show it to true friends, wearing knowledge at my side, as the soldier his sabre.

The true Friend Frederick von Diehl.

Poor Hofrath von Diehl! A more melancholy and affecting history than his is not readily to be conceived; and amid the ravelled skein of his ideas, the memory of his grievous wrongs stands clear and imperishable.

It would be difficult to refer to language more vividly descriptive of the surprise and anguish, and despair, to which a human spirit may be subjected by the base wantonness of others, than that which breaks forth amid the strange wanderings of this doc.u.ment of his. The injured eyesight and hearing--the hair burnt from his head as by lightning--the shock of astonishment when he finds himself, instead of advanced to the post of honour which had been delusively promised him, thrust "there where inexpressible pains are inflicted; pains which make every thing in man which is of the nature of man cry out;" a prey also to epilepsy, and above all to madness. Poor fellow! yet amid the smarting sense of his irreparable injuries he retains all his own humanity of feeling. He cherishes no hatred against mankind. His heart is sound; that is not injured, though his brain is; and he employs himself through the long years of his mental eclipse, with the perpetual hope and endeavour to benefit, not only his friends, his town, his countrymen, but all mankind. It is well that the gallant student in the spring-days of his career, while he runs on the green and gay path of Burschen-life, is kind to him. That he makes daily amends to him, for the crimes and follies of those in a day gone by. May the brave youths of Ruperto-Carolo long cherish this kind feeling to the unfortunate Hofrath! may they smoothen the few years of his earthly course to him!

While he lives in the dreams of literary fame and of boundless philanthropy, may they blunt the tooth of that poverty of which he so painfully complains; and, finally, may the brave hands of the sons of the Muses, one day lay that weak but worthily-meaning head, on which some of their precursors heaped wantonly such a fearful calamity, peacefully and honourably at rest.

But amongst those who derive princ.i.p.ally from the students their support, we must not forget the respectable, discreet, and amiable woman, who is to be found stationed every day at the corner of the university platz. Here the worthy Frau Gottliebin displays her treasures for sale,--cherries, grapes, plums, whatever fruit in fact the season affords, and of the finest quality, separated into small baskets-full. Every change of the season marks itself upon her stall by the apparition of some new luxury, and at Easter it is gay with many-coloured Easter-eggs for the children. In Germany, it is said, "sixty kreutzers make also a gulden," and the wisdom of this proverb has proved itself on this good woman. She not only possesses a small house of her own, but her son has studied at the university, taken his degree, and is already advanced to the dignity of a curate in the church; yes, the worthy old dame yet hopes, and that soon, to be able to congratulate him as pastor of a parish. Her daughter is married to a surgeon in the Upper Rhineland, and when from time to time the stand of the old lady is vacant, in front of the well-known Pfalz-hotel, n.o.body is afraid that it is because she is ill, or because the weather is too severe for her; for summer and winter, in the hottest suns.h.i.+ne and the bitterest frost, there she is at her post,--no, there is a new grandchild expected, and Frau Gottliebin has disappeared to pay a visit to her daughter. She has numbered many of the present teachers of the university amongst her customers, and takes a lively interest in the members of the inst.i.tution. She is also very free with well-meaning advice when the course of life of any of the sons of the Muses is not to her satisfaction. The stranger who has not tasted of her wares we may well advise to cast an observant eye on her stall as he pa.s.ses it, and can promise him, if he chooses from it, a luxurious refreshment.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE STUDENT.

The reader has. .h.i.therto only seen the students in their public life.

Their private life, in comparison with their public and out-of-door proceedings, withdraws itself so much from general observation, that it is not likely that it should so soon, or so forcibly, strike the general eye, as that does by its bold and prominent features. Yet we are confident that we can present to the reader many an interesting picture if he will allow himself to accompany us into the lodging of one of our heroes. "In G.o.d's name," Mrs. Trollope will exclaim, "what are you going to do? Are you mad, that you would seek the bear in his den?" We can, however, only beseech the foreigner not to be deterred by the often wild exterior and carriage of the student, from paying a visit to one or another of them. Without further hesitation or precaution he may follow us, and make himself certain of a friendly reception, especially from the South German. Should any one yet be incredulous, let him only inquire of Mr. Traveller, who has now resided half a year in Heidelberg, and made his first acquaintance with the student-world in this manner. One of my friends told me that he had introduced him to the student Freisleben. "In his smoking-room?" asked I, in astonishment. "Yes; why not? The English," said he, "have strong nerves, and I wished to fortify his against all weaker impressions, in fact, to make him smoke-proof; an experiment which I hope even the learned Mrs. Carleton herself would not disapprove of."

"Well, and how did he like it?" inquired I farther.

"We had scarcely made our escape out of the snow-storm of a wild December day into the house, when the Englishman remarked that the whole abode had a peculiar look, which he could not for his life describe or particularize, but which had a strong smack of the student.

I had purposely brought him into a genuine student _kneip-house_, and in the entrance, that white painted board on the wall, on which, with their respective numbers, hung the keys of the different rooms, caught his eye. The narrow pa.s.sage and steps by which we made our way through the house appeared strange to him. We at length reached the right door; I opened it; the Englishman looked eagerly in; but imagine his amazement as he saw nothing but a monstrous cloud of smoke. 'Where are we?' he demanded. An instant yell thundered through the smoke towards us--a whip whistled in the air, and a tremendous voice cried, 'Down!

down!' 'We shall get no good here,' said the Englander. 'Courage, courage,' said I, and we pressed forward into the midst of this smoke-vomiting volcano. In the meantime a portion of the reek had made its escape by the open door; it became tolerably light, and we saw the great spaniel, who had withdrawn himself howling into his basket, and friend Freisleben standing with his riding-whip in his hand."

"That confounded dog of mine--the uncourteous rascal," said he, "does not understand how he ought to receive a stranger. Mr. Traveller, it rejoices me to see you in my abode. My friend has already made me acquainted with your name." He requested us to be seated, and offered us each a pipe, which he himself had well supplied with tobacco, in the kindest manner.

"But, my G.o.d," whispered the new guest to me, "every thing looks here pretty much as with other well-bred people. All so human. Ah! I am very sorry that I am so undeceived." Yet a closer observation conducted the sufficiently quick eye of the Englishman to the various peculiarities there, and served to enrich his sketch-book with sundry notices, which he has been obliging enough to communicate to us.

The student knows how to live here. He has fitted up his room very commodiously. The sleeping-room certainly is somewhat small; often, rather an alcove, in which, besides his bed, his wardrobe, his dressing-table, and a large trunk, there is little to be seen. But one might almost p.r.o.nounce his sitting-room comfortable, were it not distinguished by rather too much of a lyrical disorder. Books, pipes, rapiers, clothes, coffee, and writing apparatus, are somewhat too little a.s.sorted; and the stove, standing in the room itself--but Germans in this respect know no better. Yet one must admit that those little machines, which look like an adiaphory, between a Roman urn and a German beer-jug, and which one might take by the end of the long pipe and carry with one along the streets, are very well adapted to the needs of the student, who commonly only wiles away an hour at home, and then hastens again to the college, since they quickly warm the room, and as quickly let it cool again. They are readily made hot, so that you may easily when at full heat light your pipe at them.

There are not wanting tables, chairs, a commode, a writing-table and book-shelves, and a sofa that is pretty well used. Our host, at first sight looked, to my fancy, somewhat Turkish, as at our morning visit he sat enjoying his pipe and coffee, in a coloured plaid morning-gown and showy slippers. But the legs--no, they were not crossed in Turkish fas.h.i.+on, but stretched out at will from the sofa in true English style, and seemed to feel themselves very much at home in the room. He had a handkerchief thrown loosely round his neck, and the small, round, and embroidered cap sat not inelegantly on his head. These caps, as I learned in course of conversation, are termed _cerevis_, or beer-caps.

What especially struck me in the apartment, were the various decorations which adorned the walls in gay rows, and the signification of which our host politely explained to me. Upon one wall was displayed a long line of profiles, all under gla.s.s, and in small gilt frames. A coloured Ch.o.r.e-band falling from above, wound about them, and comprehended them, as it were, in one great family. "These," said he, "are in memory of the friends who have contributed to embellish my six semesters at the university:" and I learned that it was the practice, especially of those who belonged to the same Ch.o.r.e, mutually to honour each other with those little likenesses.

"We have here," said he, "in Heidelberg, the Herr Munich, who executes these things in first-rate style, and derives almost a livelihood alone from this branch of business. It is the same in other places. I have already pa.s.sed some time in Jena, Berlin, and Bonn, and have enjoyed the friends.h.i.+p of many a brave Bursche. There, you see the views of many a city through which I have travelled. They will to the latest hour yield me delightful recollections." These, with the well-executed portraits of many professors, filled a second wall. Amongst them proudly displayed themselves several printed duplicates of the doctoral diplomas of his friends.

"And whose likeness is this which hangs in the midst?" I asked. "That,"

he replied, "is the portrait of our famous Pawk-doctor, which cannot be wanting in any kneip."

On the third wall I beheld pipes of all forms and sizes, from the meerschaum to the clay pipe; and my polite host promised me at the next opportunity, to give me a lecture, as he expressed it, on these articles of furniture. My eye was now caught by the garniture which I beheld about the looking-gla.s.s. It was hung round with ribands of various colours, and above it appeared the remains of garlands. As I noticed them my host said--"See, those are flowers out of the mourning garlands which deck many a departed friend who sleeps in the cool earth; which we carefully preserve."

"And the ribands with the many inscriptions and the dates?" I asked.

"Those," said he, "are my Ch.o.r.e-brothers; and the date indicates the foundation-day of our _Verbindung_."

On the fourth wall were to be seen a Schlager with the Ch.o.r.e-colours; a ch.o.r.e-cap and a guitar, with several coloured rosettes. There stood also a little table, and upon it apparatus for drinking and smoking; a large Deckel-gla.s.s with a lid, having upon it an engraved inscription, "Traumansdorf to his Freisleben, 18th July, 1838;" an elegant little casket with tobacco, a spill-vase, a study lamp, a vessel denominated the Pope, to receive the ashes of the tobacco on emptying the pipe, and an incombustible spill, or Fidebus, a new discovery, and certainly one of the most useful of the nineteenth century. This consists of a small strong coloured gla.s.s tube, which is partly filled with spirits of wine, and closed with a cork; through which a wire is thrust, and to the bottom end of which wire is secured a small k.n.o.b of wood wrapped in cotton wool. This wire has a ring at the top, by which it is pulled out, and the k.n.o.b ignited at the lamp when it is wished to light a pipe--a convenient piece of machinery, and also forming an ornament to the table.

As 1 continued to observe these mysteries, my host took up the guitar, and touching the strings, sung,--

He who can neither drink, love, nor sing, How scorneth the Bursche so mean a thing!

"I can guess, and therefore ask not," I observed, "what your rosettes mean." "It was a delightful August ball," said he to his friend significantly. "And this gla.s.s, too, I see, is the gift of a friend," I added. "Certainly, you are quite to be envied." "That is nothing extraordinary," he remarked; "it is the custom amongst students to compliment each other with, or to dedicate to each other, as we express it, such things. The inscriptions which you see on you pipe-heads, on those ribands, on this gla.s.s, we term dedications. They bear the name of the giver, and the day which is the most distinguished in our lives through some remarkable event, on which day such a gift is generally given. Let us add to the so-called gifts the silhouettes and the sword, and you have altogether what the student is accustomed to dedicate to his fellow-student. But be seated. The coffee will be cold, and my pipe is actually gone out. If you will have a morning-gown, I have another, and I am always sorry to see any one squeezed up in an uncomfortable schnippel (student term for a dress coat). Would you think that a German had so much regard to comfort? Ha! ha! Much more than you imagine. Fancy yourself before an English fireplace (opening the door of the stove); since, without that, I know you don't feel yourself comfortable; and that we also are aware of the pleasantness of a fireplace, is shown by our frequently having the stove open into the room. And do you know that we have an equivalent for your word _comfort_, of which you are so proud?"

"If you will tell me what it is," I answered, "I will believe it; but I have hunted through every dictionary for it in vain, since your words behaglich, gemuthlich, bequem, don't express the actual thing."

"Pomadig," cried he, laughing; "that's the lordly word! but it is only one of our _termini technici_, and is not yet sanctioned by Adelung."

"I will swear from this day forward," I exclaimed, "that the students are _pomadig_." "Have pomade," said he, correcting me, "for we are no pomadenhengste. When I am laid up some day," he continued, "I will make you a vocabulary of our terms with their synonymes, and shall felicitate myself thereby on contributing to a more perfect knowledge of the German language in England. You will take care to publish it?"

"a.s.sure yourself of that," I replied.

"But what has the Boot-fox brought?" asked my host of his friend, who during this time had been in conversation with a queer-looking fellow.

"A duplicate diploma from Schmidt," he replied. "What has the old boy then bitten of the sour apple at last!" "Yes! he has worked like a dragon--he has _geoxed_ tremendously during the last year, and has now taken the highest degree."

Freisleben sings:--

Therefore lets he fall a tear, And thinks--ah! but youth was dear!

And gives me an examen summa c.u.m laude.

"I am very curious," said I, "to know who the man was that walked in without knocking, and whom you styled Boot-fox. He looked like a servant that, instead of livery, a man has stuck into a student's coat; and what a cap he had on! And besides that, he had such a curious voice that one could have thought it belonged to some other person, or that somebody else was in the room when he spoke."

"Ha! ha! I will explain that to you. This odd fellow belongs to a cla.s.s of ministering spirits who live entirely by the students. We dub them Boot-foxes, because they clean our boots and clothes. They are bound to run also on our commissions, and must figure in processions and public pageants. As the poor devil must turn out very early in the mornings, his voice snaps and cracks huskily from the effects of the raw air, like that of a youth in the transition-state from a hobbledehoy to a man, till by degrees it balances itself in one key. For the rest, he is a respectable father of a family, and his wife is generally a washerwoman for the students."

"All that is easy enough to understand," I replied. "Why do you call him a boot-fox?"

"Ah, I forgot to observe, that in earlier times the foxes, who, as you know are students just come from the schools, and whom we yet play many a joke upon, were frequently obliged, very improperly, to perform those offices which our Famulus now discharges, and thence this name dates itself."

"I have made myself acquainted," said I, "with a new species of foxes.

The other day I heard a professor spoken of as a school-fox."

"Yes, yes; this name is given contemptuously to one of those teachers who, without penetrating into the spirit of knowledge, turns into his scholars, by hogsheads, the unfermented deluge of material, and reckons a man learned if he has only piled up in his hollow skull a chaos of things merely gathered by rote. G.o.d be praised, these scarecrows become scarcer from day to day. Yet, alas! there lies in the German word _Gelehrter_, the idea of one who has been _taught_ without our being able to say whether he has actually _learned_. The French say not _les enseignes_ but _les savants_; and the English not _the taught ones_.

but the _learned_."

"But," said I, "your _Gelehrter_, of the present day, we may also certainly style the learned."

"By all means; and, thank G.o.d, but with few exceptions."