Upon a wearied steed, a Jena student flew,In stumbling career, the fields and meadows through;And full of dread, with which the Philistines imbued him,Still wildly looked behind, lest creditors pursued him.The Renommist.
Upon a wearied steed, a Jena student flew,In stumbling career, the fields and meadows through;And full of dread, with which the Philistines imbued him,Still wildly looked behind, lest creditors pursued him.
The Renommist.
Mr. Traveller had now, in Heidelberg, studied for half a year the customs and general life of the students. Gladly would he yet longer have sojourned amongst his new friends; but he could only remain on the continent till autumn, and wished to make use of this time, in acquainting himself with some others of the most celebrated of the universities of Germany. After long delay, a day was finally fixed during the Easter vacation. His way lay through Leipsic and Berlin, and it was agreed to set out in a hired carriage as far as Weinheim, there, till the arrival of the post-wagon, to celebrate the last farewell. Towards five o'clock, on the appointed morning, Freisleben and Hoffmann went to call their friend Von Kronen, and were astonished to find the long-sleeper already up and prepared. "I'll tell you how it happened," said he; "I had given my boot-fox orders to rouse me out of bed at four o'clock, be it as it would. This morning, while it was yet quite dark, he rushed into my room with his lantern, and startled me out of the sweetest dreams, with the cry of 'Fire! fire!' 'Where then, where?' I demanded. 'Get up,' said he, 'in a moment, and come with me.' I sprung out of bed, threw on my clothes, again demanding, 'Tell me though, where is the fire?' He then quietly answered, 'Here, you see it, in my lantern!'"
The friends laughed at the ingenuity of the boot-fox, and hastened to Mr. Traveller. They found him already dressed, and busy with his boot-fox, in packing the dress-suit in which he had yesterday paid his farewell visits to the professors. The room looked desolate and inhospitable; and on the walls on every side peeped forth the nails, on which had been suspended pipes, pictures, and other house-gear. On the floor, packing paper lay every where in heaps; here and there lay a pair of old shoes, some old boxes, and the like; upon one chair a trunk, and on another a hat-case. In one corner of the room lay a heap of books which were to be sent direct to England. The writing-desk was open, and there lay the purse, the watch, and all that belongs to the pocket, whilst a stick, and the umbrella in its case leaned against it.
Astonished at these changes, Freisleben's spaniel ran about the room, smelling at every thing in the most particular manner. The carriage now rattled up; the stout driver made his appearance, and announced that all was ready. Hastily the maid brought in the coffee, and hastily was it drunk. The driver and the boot-fox carried down the luggage; Mr. Traveller put on his travelling coat, the friends lit their pipes, and all hastened to the carriage. The maid was below and wished a happy journey; the boot-fox, to whom some remaining pipes and the little coffee-machine was given, said--"I thank you many times; and, fare you well;" and as the carriage set off, the old House-Philistine thrust his head with his white nightcap out of the window above, and with sleepy voice cried--"a happy journey!" But the maid remained standing at the door, and looked after the carriage till it turned the next corner.
Mr. Traveller carried with him from Heidelberg only happy recollections, and rarely can we say this of a place; therefore, as the carriage swept round the turn of the road at Neuenheim, he bade a last and regretful farewell to the little city which, stretched along the bank of the Neckar.
Having arrived in Weinheim, the friends first took a walk up the lovely Birkenau Thal. They had just returned thence, and seated themselves in the inn to a breakfastà la fourchette, when a whole troop of youths arrived on foot. They were clad in blue-and-white frockcoats and blouses, with belt round the waist, wore for the most part straw hats; carried each a stout knapsack on his back; in their hands held short cudgels; and had a basket-flask suspended by a riband that passed over the breast. They were Wurtzburg students, who had penetrated by Wertheim into the Odenwald, and had traversed that ancient and forest land in every direction. Von Kronen and Freisleben found amongst them some old acquaintances. They gave them a hearty welcome; and the new-comers, who were full of life and good humour, related many of their travel adventures,--how they came to a village where it was the Kirchweih, or wake; and how the young bauers came to hard cudgels with them, because they had enticed from them the loveliest maidens on the dancing ground; of the Wild Hunter, the Felsenmeere, or Sea of Rocks, and of the solitary Jäger-house, where they had been obliged to pass the night on straw, as there were no beds to be found for so many guests. They felicitated themselves on all the pleasure that they promised themselves in Heidelberg. The whole company was very merry; they did not spare the excellent Hupberger, and totally forgot that on the heels of this welcome must come a speedy parting. But suddenly the landlord stepped in, and announced that the Eilwagen had arrived. The whole company broke up hastily, and accompanied Mr. Traveller to it. It was high time when they arrived at it, and the Englishman had scarcely leisure to take a hurried leave of his friends. He promised to send them notice of the other universities that he should visit, gave them another hearty shake of the hand--the postilion had blown his bugle, and the wagon rolled on its way. "Tell the English," cried Freisleben to him, as he still looked out of the window, "that the German students are not so bad as they have been described to them." "Honi soit qui mal y pense," replied Mr. Traveller. While this passed, the other students had raised the
SONG OF THE DEPARTING BURSCH.A Mossy Borsch now forth I wend,O God! Philister's house defend.[47]Yes, native home, I come to thee;Myself must now Philistine be.Farewell, ye crooked streets and straight,Through you no more I walk elate:With songs no more make you astir,With noisy joy and clink to spur.Ye Kneips, why would ye me delay,My sojourn here has passed away.Oh! beckon not with your long arm,Make not my thirsty heart thus warm.God bless the College! How she thereStands in her stately grandeur fair!Ye twilight halls, both great and small,Ye win me back no more at all.And thou too, from thy gabled height,O Carcer! see'st in vain my flight,For wretched lodging, night and day,A Pereat, greet thee thus for aye!But bloom thou--and, as thus I go,Old Battle-house, still "Live thou, hoch!"Yet many a victor-garland be,Thou house of honour, won in thee!Then come I--ah! to Liebchen's door,--Look out, dear girl, look out once more!Look out with thy sweet eyes so clear,And with thy dark and clustering hair.And shouldst thou e'en have me forgot,A like reward I wish thee not.Go, thou mayst seek a lover new,But be he gay, like me, and true.But farther, farther, now awaitsMy course, stand wide ye ancient gates!Light is my heart, and glad my track;My blessing, city, waft I back!Ye Brothers! now, around me press,Let my heart feel not its distress.On gallant steeds with gladsome song,Go ye with me the way along.In the next Dorf will we alight,In our last wine our friendship plight.Now, here ye Brothers,--wo's the case!--Our last glass take!--our last embrace!Gustav. Schwab.
A Mossy Borsch now forth I wend,
O God! Philister's house defend.[47]
Yes, native home, I come to thee;
Myself must now Philistine be.
Farewell, ye crooked streets and straight,
Through you no more I walk elate:
With songs no more make you astir,
With noisy joy and clink to spur.
Ye Kneips, why would ye me delay,
My sojourn here has passed away.
Oh! beckon not with your long arm,
Make not my thirsty heart thus warm.
God bless the College! How she there
Stands in her stately grandeur fair!
Ye twilight halls, both great and small,
Ye win me back no more at all.
And thou too, from thy gabled height,
O Carcer! see'st in vain my flight,
For wretched lodging, night and day,
A Pereat, greet thee thus for aye!
But bloom thou--and, as thus I go,
Old Battle-house, still "Live thou, hoch!"
Yet many a victor-garland be,
Thou house of honour, won in thee!
Then come I--ah! to Liebchen's door,--
Look out, dear girl, look out once more!
Look out with thy sweet eyes so clear,
And with thy dark and clustering hair.
And shouldst thou e'en have me forgot,
A like reward I wish thee not.
Go, thou mayst seek a lover new,
But be he gay, like me, and true.
But farther, farther, now awaits
My course, stand wide ye ancient gates!
Light is my heart, and glad my track;
My blessing, city, waft I back!
Ye Brothers! now, around me press,
Let my heart feel not its distress.
On gallant steeds with gladsome song,
Go ye with me the way along.
In the next Dorf will we alight,
In our last wine our friendship plight.
Now, here ye Brothers,--wo's the case!--
Our last glass take!--our last embrace!
Gustav. Schwab.
And of our brethren, is there one departed--By pale Death summoned in his bloom?We weep, and wish him peace, all saddest hearted;Peace to our brother's silent tomb.We weep, and wish that peace may dwellIn our dear brother's silent cell.
And of our brethren, is there one departed--
By pale Death summoned in his bloom?
We weep, and wish him peace, all saddest hearted;
Peace to our brother's silent tomb.
We weep, and wish that peace may dwell
In our dear brother's silent cell.
"What becomes then of the student at the last?" the reader will ask--"of him whom we have to this point followed in silent observation through all his ways, and along his whole course?"
If, as has often been the case, we were to consider the Student-life as a disease, we should say with the Pathologist:--"Every disease can, by possibility, have, only one of three terminations: the first, in health; the second, in some other disease; and the last, in death." But we are far from looking upon it in this light. Yet we can, regarding the Student-life in its great outlines as a state of health, assign it the same issues, with the exception that we hold the Philisterium, to use the student's own language, to be the natural sequence of the natural university life.
It is truly a sorrowful reflection, that of the numbers who seek the university at the same time, it is only the smaller portion of them who reach that goal after which they strive, or should strive. Not that we mean to say that death snatches away so many from the midst of them. No; the mortality in general, and especially in Heidelberg, amongst the student youth, is very small indeed. But what we now have in our eye will be more clearly shown, if we explain ourselves on the nature of the object to be attained by the student. Has he, indeed, attained that object, when he has piled up in his head laboriously and without order, a store of things worthy to be known in his peculiar profession? No, that is not it; although people who are destitute of an enlightened grasp of mind, are accustomed to see great perfection in the education of a young man who, returning from a learned institution, is found to have gathered up all facts like a schoolboy with amazing diligence, so that when any one says A to him, he can immediately say B and C. We believe, for our part, the fruit of inquiry to be this: that the young man learns to perceive that the individual study to which he especially devotes himself, is only one branch of the great tree of knowledge; that no science, sundered entirely from the rest, can proceed prosperously to its own completion; that a science pursued alone and in an isolated manner, cannot be properly called a science; but that all the sciences stretch forth their sisterly hands to each other, and form themselves into a beautiful circle, out of which they will not suffer themselves to be torn by an unskilful person.
He will perceive, that a well-grounded study of professional science even, can only base itself on a philosophical foundation; and that he who, on the contrary, falls into one-sidedness, must become merely a clever plodder, or a charlatan. He will perceive that the arts and sciences are as intimately connected, as the capacity for the true, the good, and the beautiful is united in the spirit of man with the understanding. But is there one who has acquired no single perception of all this; has he only crammed into his head the dusty chaff of learning; has he, in the acquisition of this false learning, lost the taste for all that is good and beautiful!--it had been better that he had never entered on this field, which for him has had no result but that of drying up his brain with the heat of a confused and unfruitful knowledge.
Truly, there are yet other results of student-life than such as these: namely, those of a spurious erudition; results which for the quondam student, are yet more sorrowful, and which fill the heart of the spectator with pity and abhorrence. We mean the consequences which habits of drinking, and of other wild practices--such as the miserable passion for play, draw after them. It is true that we see many wretched creatures glide trembling about, who have laid the first foundations of their aberrations at their university. But we see equally many, or more such miserables, who never visited such an institution: and if we find many sorrowful histories in the university city, of the students who had taken their own lives because they had plunged themselves into inextricable debt; if we hear many a one at the end of his academical career lament bitterly over his lost and misspent time; we may be seized with a horror of such places as strong, as when we read what Jean Paul has depicted in such fearful colours of a similar unfortunate:--"And he brought out of the whole rich life nothing but errors, sins and diseases; a wasted body and a weary soul; a breast full of poison and an age full of remorse. His beautiful youthful days now changed themselves into spectres, and dragged him back to that sweet morning where his father had first placed him, at the point of the diverging paths of life, the right hand of which leads into the sun-path of virtue, into a wide quiet land, full of light and of harvest-fields, and of angels; and that of the left conducts down through the mole-burrowings of crime, into a black cavern full of down-dropping poison, of darting snakes, and of a damp and sultry vapour. Ah! the snakes hang on his bosom, and the poison drops on his tongue, and--he knew where he was. Wild, and with inexpressible horror and anguish, he cried to heaven--'Give me my youth again! O Father! place me again on the diverging path that I may choose differently!'"
I say, we, and more especially the foreigner, hearing and seeing such things, should regard those places with horror. But let the latter think, how many young people here are collected together; and that amongst them must of a certainty be many very thoughtless, and no few of them decidedly bad characters. Let him recollect that these numbers, who have just escaped from the strict bondage of the schools, now suddenly stand free, torn loose from all family bonds, to act without restraint, and at their own pleasure. Let him reflect that they are in a place where opportunities for every species of extravagance are so freely offered; where, if their purses are exhausted, so many are at hand ready to lend. Let him again reflect, that the student is exposed to all those temptations at an age at which the passions rage often with a fearful strength; at an age which causes him to stagger between its extremes. Let him, and let us, weigh all this, and then we cannot wonder, if many a one in this contest goes down; if many a one fails to accomplish the aim of his ideal activity; and we shall even rejoice that so many honourably pass through the ordeal, and choose the right. Goethe's Wahrheit und Dichtung presents us with a passage which is particularly applicable to this subject.
"All men of good disposition feel, in the progress of their education, that they have a double part to play in the world--an actual and an ideal one,--and in this feeling is to be sought the ground of every thing that is noble. What of the actual is allotted to us, we find only too clear; what concerns the ideal, we can seldom come into a distinct conception of. The man may seek his higher destiny on the earth or in heaven, in the present or in the future; but on that account he remains exposed to a constant wavering from within, and to a constantly disturbing influence from without, till he once for all takes the resolution to declare that is the right which is conformable to his individual condition and character."
But before we take our leave of those who, as we have said, have chosen the right, and now leave the university to enter upon a new life, let us cast one sorrowful retrospective glance at him, whom death so early has snatched away from his brethren. And here it rejoices us to behold how the student seeks to honour and preserve the memory of the for-ever departed.
When youth, in its strength, in its beauty and freshness, is snatched away, and is borne to the grave, who does not feel sorrow at heart, even if he were a stranger to the departed? But in such sorrowful moments we feel a peculiar pleasure in mounting higher and higher into a sentiment of grief, till the exhausted spirit dissolves itself in an infinitude of wo. In the decoration of the funeral procession with every symbol of sorrow, we behold the desire of friends to do the greatest possible honour to the deceased in the eyes of the world, and to bring even this to participate in the mournful interest. If then this be the intention of the last honours, no one has perhaps more completely accomplished the object than the student, when he accompanies his departed friend to his last resting-place by night, and with the light of torches.
In the streets a curious multitude has gathered together to behold the solemn train, and moves hither and thither. The tolling of the funeral bell, announcing the setting forward of the train, has brought us also to the window, and in silence we look forth into the yet dark streets. Busy fancy carries us quickly far away to the parents of the deceased, who now, in unspeakable grief, bewail perhaps the only son, him whom they hoped soon again, after the years of separation, to have folded in their arms; who, so thought they, should now cheer and enliven their old age. Then conducts it us to his solitary death-bed, where in vain he called on the names of those whom he loved--of those who watched his childhood; where sorrowfully he thought of their pain; where, finally, he thanked the friends who, though they had been but for a short period united to him in friendship, had, through their sympathy and faithful affectionate care, softened and made consolatory his last hours.
An uncertain and ruddy light now plays upon the houses and the waving folk's-mass, and the night brings to us the long-drawn tones of the trumpets, which, wailing with sorrow, make every chord of our inner life vibrate. Now they call back to us the dear ones that we have already borne to the grave, and the uncertain light of the torches causes their forms to sweep before our excited imaginations in a spirit-train. Now these thrilling notes seem to lament the transitoriness of all earthly things, and to complain of the dreadful ordinations of heaven.
The scene becomes continually clearer and brighter; the individual torches and their bearers appear distinctly, and behold! the mass of people separates before our eyes. To right and left they shrink back, as if the multitude feared that advancing train would yet snatch another out of this moving throng, out of the gladsome drift of life into the chill of the grave.
A numerous band of music comes at the head of the procession, lighted by torch-bearers. Then follows the funeral car, covered with black cloth and drawn by black horses. Upon the car lies the Chore-band, the Chore-caps of the deceased, and two crossed swords, all covered with mourning crape, and surrounded with mourning wreaths. We remark also particularly one smaller garland; it is formed of white roses, and is, so we are told, from the sorrowing hand of some unknown fair one.
This car, this coffin, incloses the mortal remains of the student whom so lately we saw traversing these streets in the freshness of youth, whose strong arm has lifted one of these swords in defence of his honour. This city, the witness of his fresh and lively existence, will soon have forgotten him.
Through life's course unto his goalWith the tempest's speed roan driveth;Then within the true friend's soulYet a little while surviveth.Uhland.
Through life's course unto his goal
With the tempest's speed roan driveth;
Then within the true friend's soul
Yet a little while surviveth.
Uhland.
Immediately before the car, go two of the beadles carrying fasces wreathed with crape. On each side and behind the car, walk the companions of the Chore, all in simple black mourning, and with hats. Immediately behind the Chore also we see two clergymen in black costume walking. This whole group is surrounded by the torch-bearers. Then come all the other students who were acquainted with the deceased, and who have added themselves to the train. Before them goes the leader of the procession, with two attendants or marshals. The peculiar mourning costume--the buckskins and great jack-boots--the large storm or two-cocked hat, bordered with black and white crape, with sweeping feathers--the great leathern gauntlets--the sword trailing in its sheath--the broad Chore-riband, veiled in crape; all these particulars point him out. His two attendants are similarly attired, but without the storm-hat. The students then follow two and two, in divisions according to their Chores, and others add themselves. In two long lines they advance slowly on each side of the street, and from time to time we observe an officer marching between these lines, distinguished by his cerevis cap and riband, while he carries in his hand his sword, its colours also veiled in crape, and its sheath hanging from his left side. These maintain the order of the procession. Formerly it was customary for them to be more ceremoniously attended, similarly to the leader of the train. In the same costume as the leader of the train, however, comes its closer, also accompanied by his two attendants; and these personages are chosen by the Chores from amongst their tallest members, as a matter of state.
Thus the procession moves on slowly through the streets, and we see a seriousness expressed on the countenances of most of the attendants, which the peculiar paleness that the torchlight is wont to give, greatly heightens. While the murmur of the thoughtless multitude announces to us the termination of the train, let us hasten, by a shorter cut than they, to the Friedhof, the churchyard where the students are interred. Here the train assembles itself around the open grave. The clergyman steps into the midst of the silent throng, and having pronounced his address, closes it with his last benediction. Then steps forward one of the friends of the deceased, to clothe in words once more before the assembled crowd, his painful feelings. Yet once more calls he to their remembrance the true friendship of the departed, his manly worth, and his genuine German mind. Yet once more he dwells on all that they have lost in him. A few stanzas are sung, from the beautiful hymn "From High Olympus," which he had so often joined them in. And now the coffin must descend; and all press forward to discharge to him their last duty, by throwing each a handful of earth upon him. Lastly, the lowered swords are crossed over his grave, and their clash is the signal for the return of the train.
We perceive in many of these funeral ceremonies a similarity to those with which the deceased soldier is interred; and this is still more strikingly shown in the manner in which they return to one of the larger squares, there to burn the torches--a manner which we can by no means approve.
No longer solemnly and silently tread back the throng; but instead of mourning airs, we hear the march, nay, even the merry waltz and the gallopade. Arrived in one of the larger squares, the train march round it, and turning towards the centre, at a given signal, let their torches fly up into the air, and fall on a heap in the midst. They whirl up, describing many a fiery circle and convolution ere they reach the flaming pile; and now, while this one animated and huge torch lights up all around with a strong radiance, and the dark and giant clouds of smoke, which rolling up, mixed with the many-coloured flames, spread themselves to the heavens, the voices of the assembled students join in chorus the music-accompanied song of
Gaudeamus igitur,Juvenes dum sumus.
Gaudeamus igitur,Juvenes dum sumus.
And we see how speedily youth can step from one feeling to another. We see also the thought--"Though an individual falls, the great whole yet continues; it was for that, that he laboured, and his exertions have not been in vain;" we see this thought expressed in--
It shall live! the Academical Freedom!
which bursts forth from a thousand voices, amid the clashing together of the swords.
Finally, the torch-pile having nearly consumed itself in its splendid light, is extinguished--an image of the high-aspiring youth who has been borne to the grave; and--
As nothing had occurred now all is silent;The bells have pealed out, the songs are ended.Uhland.
As nothing had occurred now all is silent;The bells have pealed out, the songs are ended.
Uhland.
We have deferred the description of a torch-train, which is, on solemn or festive occasions, conducted in honour of a professor, etc., to this chapter; and it is only necessary here to remark, that on these occasions, the mourning attributes and contingencies of course being absent, the general arrangement and proceeding is the same.
Only such students who have distinguished themselves in a Chore, and are on that account well known to the whole student body, are buried with the honour of a torch-train. Others are interred in the day, and the attendants follow either on foot or in mourning coaches. The permission for a torch-train must always be obtained from the Academical Senate.
The students in like manner join themselves to the funeral train of a teacher of the university, with the rest of the members of the High-school, as well as other mourners. If it be that of a professor little known or little esteemed, only those of his own faculty attend; but if it be the funeral of a man distinguished for his eminent talents as a teacher, for the excellence of his character, and for his services to the university, they scarcely omit one of their number.
But we have hitherto only turned our attention to the images of death; let us now accompany the more happy youth who sails out of the joyful Burschen world into Philisterium, on his progress. During the student period, the academician generally far separated from his connexions, sometimes pays them a visit in the vacation.
And when again he visits us!--O God! my wish is won!I see him with his black mustache the real Muses' son!"The Ferien[48]now ended--I must away--adieu!And now until I've finished, I come no more to you."
And when again he visits us!--O God! my wish is won!I see him with his black mustache the real Muses' son!"The Ferien[48]now ended--I must away--adieu!And now until I've finished, I come no more to you."
If the student always so lived as during the whole last year or half-year of his university-life, we might have been spared the labour of writing the tenth and other chapters of our volume. There he sits now, in his solitary little room. Instead of frolicksome brothers, the old folios surround him; he has even forgot the Commersing, and instead of that he sips his cup of coffee, in order again to revive the exhausted spirit of his life. His duelling wrath is directed against the flies that disturb him in his studies, and his pipe is the only friend that cheers his spirit in his solitude.
Students who have lived jovially, are accustomed to denote that they have arrived at this melancholy termination of their campaign by exchanging the cap for the Philistine hat, and their cronies are reasonable enough then to perceive, that nobody may disturb them in these their arduous exertions, as, indeed, the Burschen-life cannot last for ever. After these glorious exertions, the son of the Muses plunges boldly into the doctoral examination. This is partly made in writing, partly orally, and is conducted under the superintendence of the Dean, who also selects the questions, to which the youth under examination, isolated in a room of the Dean's house, gives his answers. The examination is seldom closed under a week; after which he receives, as its result, from the examining professors of the faculty, one of the usual degrees of the university, unless his acquirements have been so indifferent, that his evil-star, as the students say, has caused him to fall through.
The usual degrees are these four--"Summa cum laude;" "Præclara cum laude;" "Insigni cum laude;" "Magno cum laude;" (feliciter evasit, as the student jocosely says.) In most states the doctoral examination precedes the state examination, and the examinee acquires the right to be admitted to the latter when he has passed his doctoral examination, and has written a dissertation. In other states, as in Baden, the reverse is the fact.
Is the new doctor then dubbed?--he has sworn his oath on the fasces, and he hastens to announce this new distinction to his delighted connexions, and to apprise them of his speedy return home.
See! Father, see! a letter! his student days are done,A Doctor they've created, with high applause, thy son.By the next post, so writes he, to-morrow e'en to dine!He comes--"Then, mother, fetch thou thy last flask of good wine."Chamisso.
See! Father, see! a letter! his student days are done,A Doctor they've created, with high applause, thy son.By the next post, so writes he, to-morrow e'en to dine!He comes--"Then, mother, fetch thou thy last flask of good wine."
Chamisso.
When now the quondam Bursch returns home, in order then to prepare himself to pass the State's examination, the portal of Philisterium, his university companions accompany him in procession out of the city. This accompaniment they call the Comitat.
What rings and sings in the street out there!Open the windows, ye maids so fair.'Tis the Bursché, away he wendeth--The Comitat him attendeth.Uhland.
What rings and sings in the street out there!Open the windows, ye maids so fair.'Tis the Bursché, away he wendeth--The Comitat him attendeth.
Uhland.
Such a comitat was, in former times, more stately and striking than at present. Before rode in Kollar and Kanonen, that is, in buckskins and jack-boots, the assembled Chore-brothers, wearing the Chore-caps and bands, in their right hands their drawn swords. Then followed in a carriage with four or six horses, the senior in the fullest gala dress, and wearing the storm-hat, and holding two crossed swords. Then followed in a carriage drawn by the same number of horses, the Departing Bursch. He sate on the left side in the old Burschen dress, with the old cap on, while on his right hand sate two Foxes, dressed in the highest gala uniform, who were attending on him with the greatest assiduity, performing every possible service for him, especially in lighting his pipe for him. On each side of the carriage was generally wont a student also to ride. The rest of the students who joined the procession, now followed in two-horse carriages, and the Pawk-doctor did not fail to appear in the train. The train-closer came last, in the style in which we have before described him, either on horseback with his drawn sword, or in a carriage holding the crossed swords. So moved on the picturesque procession to the next place, where they once more assembled themselves to enjoy the Burschen-life. Finally, the Mossy Bursch must say a last farewell to the university city; finally, must he tear himself from the arms of his companions, and hasten towards his home. He carries with him out of the city of the Muses many a delightful remembrance, and brings to his parents and relations, to whose arms he returns, as the testimony of his scientific acquirements, the diploma of Doctor.
THE OLD BURSCH.Think'st thou thereon how in the Burschen season,So light and free, life unto thee did show?Think'st thou thereon--how, and with fullest reason,Lovely it seemed to feel young friendship's glow?Rememb'rest then, what glad throngs thou didst see soonAs Brothers greet thee--true in joy and wo?When near us lies nor foul deceit could won?--Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon?Rememberest thou, the good old time and tide then,In German coat, long hair, and open breast;Heft under arm,[49]the rapier by the side then,With zeal and courage we in college pressed,And fought our way all through the deep-and-wide fen,Of the most learned lecturer's wild-goose quest.Then by conceit nor rank imposed upon?--Speak, Ancient House,--oh! think'st thou yet thereon?Thinkest thou yet how the Philistines fearéd,Yet still gave credit when the Bursché came;To the Prorector when with plaints they faréd,The Landsmannschaft did straight the Bann proclaim?Thinkest thou yet how boldly then we darédWith lovely maids, who still, so mild, so tame--How in Commers to heaven we have gone--Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon?Rememberest thou each tragi-comic action--How we did fight, since I had thee touchirt?But when the bleeding wound gave satisfaction,How heartier than ever we smollirt?And how we then, both true unto our paction,In Carcer two long moons each other cheered?In Carcer even clinked glasses,--cared for none?Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon!I think thereon! oh! ne'er shall I forget it!The good, the dear, the ancient Burschentide!Oh! that 'tis gone! that heaven each brief term set it!East, west, the brothers scattered on each side!And villany! since then I oft have met it!Yes, life disgusts me--all so cold and wide!Courage, Old House! sing "Gaudeamus" on!Canst "thou" it yet? Ah! God! I think thereon!
Think'st thou thereon how in the Burschen season,
So light and free, life unto thee did show?
Think'st thou thereon--how, and with fullest reason,
Lovely it seemed to feel young friendship's glow?
Rememb'rest then, what glad throngs thou didst see soon
As Brothers greet thee--true in joy and wo?
When near us lies nor foul deceit could won?--
Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon?
Rememberest thou, the good old time and tide then,
In German coat, long hair, and open breast;
Heft under arm,[49]the rapier by the side then,
With zeal and courage we in college pressed,
And fought our way all through the deep-and-wide fen,
Of the most learned lecturer's wild-goose quest.
Then by conceit nor rank imposed upon?--
Speak, Ancient House,--oh! think'st thou yet thereon?
Thinkest thou yet how the Philistines fearéd,
Yet still gave credit when the Bursché came;
To the Prorector when with plaints they faréd,
The Landsmannschaft did straight the Bann proclaim?
Thinkest thou yet how boldly then we daréd
With lovely maids, who still, so mild, so tame--
How in Commers to heaven we have gone--
Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon?
Rememberest thou each tragi-comic action--
How we did fight, since I had thee touchirt?
But when the bleeding wound gave satisfaction,
How heartier than ever we smollirt?
And how we then, both true unto our paction,
In Carcer two long moons each other cheered?
In Carcer even clinked glasses,--cared for none?
Speak, Ancient House! oh! think'st thou yet thereon!
I think thereon! oh! ne'er shall I forget it!
The good, the dear, the ancient Burschentide!
Oh! that 'tis gone! that heaven each brief term set it!
East, west, the brothers scattered on each side!
And villany! since then I oft have met it!
Yes, life disgusts me--all so cold and wide!
Courage, Old House! sing "Gaudeamus" on!
Canst "thou" it yet? Ah! God! I think thereon!
Prove all things; and hold fast that which is good.
The life and habits of the student are closed with the last chapter. We have accompanied him from the time when he advanced from the school into the free atmosphere of the university, till that in which, turning his back on the joyful Burschen-world, he sailed forth into the Philisterium. The English reader has attended us on a progress through a strange country, which lay so near him, and yet was so enigmatical to him; and we hope that his trouble has not proved irksome to him. It is true that the Student-life has its rough and eccentric side; and this, as falling most prominently under the eye, has not escaped the foreigner. On the other hand, many have endeavoured, in their writings, to represent these in the most exaggerated manner. But the Student-life has also a beautiful and a poetical side, and this many do not think worthy of their time and attention, while others have no sentiment for it, and therefore no perception of it. When, moreover, in English periodicals are exhibited such caricatures and calumnious portraitures as genuine delineations of what would be, truly, very singular proceedings and persons; if the reader has carried away with him these as true, because they have been written in Germany and with an air of authority, we need not wonder that he turns from these monstrous and bizarre pictures with shuddering and contempt, and if he laugh at the folly and reprobate the immorality of the German youth. But after we have sketched the true features of German Student-life, we leave it to the reader to make his reflections upon it, and to extract the grains of wheat from the chaff.
There remain for us, however, still several questions which the more particularly demand answers, because hereupon the most singular notions prevail. What gains the student by this academical life? What does he carry with him out of it? and what does he leave behind in it? and what becomes of him next!
When we have decided upon the advantage which the student derives from the academical life, we shall then feel ourselves prompted to say a few words upon the tendency of certain institutions of the German universities; on the scientific and moral spirit which prevails amongst the students. We shall further proceed a little to explain some singular-seeming customs and, practices, and, so far as these are concerned, as we always speak particularly of Heidelberg, to cast some glances of comparison upon other German and foreign universities. In such a parallel it is also interesting to observe how the universities, as institutions of education, operate thus essentially on the political relations of states, and on the other hand, how they are determined in their developement by these. These proposed points are difficult; and their thorough discussion would lead us too far. We must therefore content ourselves with distinctive indications.
Justly says Thiersch--"The universities are a vastly intertwined and entangled whole, at which people and ages have laboured, in order to bring it to its present extension."
The first and only true object of the academician is, and for ever remains, the study of science. This constitutes the central point, which all intently seek, and where all find themselves, without regard to external circumstances. Knowledge, and the strife after it, are sacred to the student; and these are the anchor, which, dropped into the heart of every one, has lashed to it that internal spiritual bond which embraces the whole class. The single aim of the academician is the free pursuit of knowledge.
It is true that the majority of those who seek the university, have the object, at a later period, of entering on state offices; and the acquisition of knowledge made at the university, places them in a condition to be able properly to discharge the duties of those offices, which are the means of their future existence. But the later practical application of this knowledge, which is so far the medium of his profession, comes before the eye of the student in the background. In the society of young people who are in the pursuit of knowledge, in the intercourse with teachers whose object is the diffusion of the same, and surrounded by external institutions which all bear upon the advancement and the facilitation of study, he remains far from the thought that knowledge is to be regarded as a milch-cow, which will furnish him hereafter with butter. The unfolding of his intellectual capacity in every direction; the following out one or the other in particular, appears to him the business of life in these years. It is exactly this which essentially distinguishes the corporation of students above every thing else;--of which the student is so proud. He despises the Philistine, who, in all circumstances of his life, is only thinking of his petty gains.
It is grounded psychologically on this feeling of individual worth as a disciple of wisdom, that the Burschen honour springs up, and holds every student equally high and equally dear. As a corporation, one stands for all, and all for one; and without drawing a moral death upon it, this honour cannot suffer itself to be wounded. Study is pursued at the German universities with zeal and radicality. Proofs of this, are the great numbers of young men who every year pass through the State's-examinations, and testify their ability in all the offices of their country: proofs are, the writers of Germany, who owe their accomplishment to these institutions: proofs, finally, are, the preponderating number of well-educated men compared with those of other countries, who draw their support from the academical foundations. But we must not go so far. Let any one compare the German student, whose acquirements are weighed by a competent judge, with the student of any foreign university.
Manifold indeed have been the complaints of the laziness of the first period of the academical life; and we can only repeat what we have said on this subject in an earlier portion of our volume. There is an abrupt transition from the studies of the Gymnasium to those of the University; and the newling at the university wastes and wears away much time, especially in the first months, and indeed during the whole first semester, before he has accustomed himself to the free condition, and the free and fresh atmosphere of the university. But is this of such mighty importance? It is the transition into a state of greater self-dependence which demands this sacrifice; and he only who has no conception of the strengthening and fortifying influence of university life,--he who does not perceive with what higher advantage this material loss is counterbalanced, can alone break out into lamentations on this head. He who is accustomed to chase youth out of one pen into another, and to begrudge every free breath, every lighter moment, every refreshment of over-passing Muse--who trembles and shakes lest by such trivial circumstances they should have lost both body and soul; will indeed judge otherwise, but deserves, in fact, to be sent back into the school of literary and pedagogic necessity, out of which he was expelled by some mischance. That portion of the youth however, who have arrived on the threshold of the university honest and well-disposed--and this portion is so predominant that the remainder appears in comparison insignificant--this large and elect portion of the better endowed, soon pass through the first rude shock of difficulty and surprise, and through the mere pleasure-rambling in the garden of the Muses. The student zealously busied to develope his intellectual constitution, healthily and in all its members, will find himself in the strongest manner supported by the regulations of the German university; and of these we will speak anon.
On the other hand, the free intercourse with his cotemporaries operates most favourably. When the youth enters the university, he steps at once into a corporation composed of the most opposite materials. Every student brings with him the peculiarities of his Fatherland, in manners and speech; and how manifold is the variety! To say nothing of the foreigners who frequent our different universities, what a difference is there yet between the different races which speak the German tongue. What gradations from the cold, ceremonial North German, who clings fast to etiquette, and with difficulty attaches himself to others, to the good-natured South German, who, knowing little of outward forms, readily finds a friend to whom he can ally himself. Every foreigner retains the characteristics of his own land, and often takes a pride in exhibiting them, by which means he becomes a person detached from the mass. We find the strongest antagonisms of this kind; and it might make one doubtful of the reciprocating influence of this cause, had we not found by experience that the result was a favourable one. The intellectual bond of knowledge here embraces the sons of all nations; and thus these apparently heterogeneous elements can only operate auspiciously, since the advantage is not to be overlooked which the close and mutual contact affords, of learning to know foreign manners and customs, and for each to recognise his own in the true light.
And here we must again call attention to the fact, of the essential difference between the result of academical life, and that of burger life. As to the moral side of the question, there have not been wanting people who have laboured to represent the university as a gulf which swallows up the flower of the youth, as a pool out of which only a few are happy enough to escape without ruin of soul and body. These are ridiculous and malicious exaggerations. No one will attempt to deny the dangers of university life, the temptations to deviations from propriety; and according to time and situation must every university, in a greater or less degree, be exposed to these; but every one who is not blinded by excess of prejudice or enmity, knows that, besides those who give way to temptation, by far the greater number return to their friends from the High-school, as sound in body and mind as they came to it.
The hope would be idle, to chase evil quite away; such a hope is opposed to the total experience of all people and times, to the nature of advancing manhood, and to that degree of freedom, which must be allowed to youth in the years of its growing developement for the prosperous completion of this developement itself, and which every where, though it may be under different forms, will be afforded. There is no law, no precaution, which can possibly preserve the youngling on the higher steps of his career if he does not watch over himself; and one cannot forget the just observation of the old English vicar, that the virtue that needs continual watching, is not worth the cost of a sentinel. But this is the common lot of all manly youth; and we may boldly assert, that aberrations amongst the other classes--amongst the younger ranks of the military, of the mercantile, and of other departments of trade, are not less, but probably more extensive; yes, it is satisfactory to know that in these respects the academical life is in a progressive state of steady improvement.
But if we inquire further what are those things which most particularly strike the foreigner in the student; those things which are most ridiculous, and disapproved; we find that, briefly, they are the following,--the singular dress of the student, the strong smoking, and his habits of beer-drinking and duelling.
That the student in early times, more than at present, adopted a singular costume, arose from two causes, either out of convenience or vanity. In both cases, the matter is a very innocent one, and the academical boards did wisely to permit him these fancies, so far as they were not the signs of an interdicted verbindung. The life at the university, as we have had now abundant occasion to observe, is a peculiar one. When this extends itself so far that a separate court of justice is allowed to the students, is it at all to be wondered at, that the Student who feels himself in every respect so distinct from the Philistine, should also seek to express this distinction by his costume? He only does this so long as he belongs to the High-school, and with the conclusion of this period, ceases also naturally, the occasion for this peculiarity. Considerations ofconvenanceweigh little with the students amongst themselves,--they weigh little with them towards those who surround them, as it is by no means an object of the student to seek advantage from those moving around him, nor to render himself particularly acceptable to them. Therefore in small cities these peculiarities of dress, chosen according to every individual fancy, strike the eye more; while in larger cities the student, playing a more subordinate part, unites himself more to the general mass of society, and loses himself more in family circles. There he will surrender himself to the existing order and convenances of society, since, so soon as he enters the salon, he conducts himself strictly by the rules of etiquette. But he is no slave of fashion. This is repugnant to his freedom of thought; and he believes himself to have as good a right to choose his own dress, as the lawgiver of fashion has from the capital of France to prescribe what shall be held good ton in external appearance. He is by no means so tyrannical as that personage, since he desires from no comrade that he shall herein follow his example; since he leaves, herein to every one perfect freedom, and allows the native student to observe the stricter ceremonial of his father-city.
And is his, really as it often is a most fantastic costume, more singular or more contrary to nature, than the fashionable attire in which many show themselves in the capitals of the whole world, and above all, in which they present themselves to the eyes of the public in the fashionable watering-places? Is he indeed the only one who herein overleaps the bounds of etiquette? They who have seen the grotesque paraphernalia in which the foreigners from beyond the Channel suffer themselves to appear in Germany, will certainly not assert this. And these do this in a foreign country; the student only in his German Fatherland. Are there so many sects too, who distinguish themselves by their peculiar dress, and shall this be so sharply objected to in the student?
The smoking of tobacco is an accusation which the student shares in common with the other classes of the community, and which only looks the more striking in him. We will not defend this practice, on which so much has already been said, nor that of beer-drinking; but we must again take leave to observe, that in all this there is no compulsion. The reader has probably alarmed himself by perusing the Beer-code, which we have given at the end of this volume. It is well known that in older times much more was drunken at the university, and that this pernicious custom, especially in some of the German universities, prevailed to a most lamentable degree. In those times many of these beer-laws might be of great advantage, insomuch that they restrained from greater excesses. As they now exist, no student is subjected to them, who does not voluntarily submit himself to them, by associating himself with the companies that assemble at the kneip. And even here it is at his perfect option, at any moment, to declare that he will drink no more, only he cannot break this declaration without paying the penalty.
We are as little disposed to defend the duel. A reconciliation of disputes between contenders, by the exertion of and through the means of reason, either in the disputants themselves, or through their friends; or if this were found impracticable, through the establishment of a court of honour amongst the students, or through an appeal, in serious cases, to the academical court, would certainly be a more civilized proceeding. We may, indeed, hope that this will be accomplished in time, and the more so, because the number of duels at the universities, compared with former times, is already so much diminished, and as the voices of many students are now raised against this practice. Yet we must not judge the students too hardly on account of the duel, but ought to take into the account the following considerations in mitigation of our opinion.
No one is compelled to fight, who in the commencement declares that it is contrary to his principles. Let it be recollected, that in the university cities, more than elsewhere, young people are crowded together, and compelled briskly to push and jostle each other, as it were, in their course. Let it be remembered, that though we may pronounce of the bulk of them, that they are well-educated youths, yet at the same time, in comparison with the circumstances of other young people, it is undeniable that far more frequent and greater occasions for antagonist attrition occur amongst them--in part, no doubt, on account of the greater pecuniary means in their possession, and still more on account of the unavoidable necessity of social life amongst themselves, especially in the lesser university cities, in which they cannot mingle with the family circles.
The foreign universities, where the duel does not exist, cannot be brought in evidence on this head, because they want other peculiarities of the German universities, which are of apparently great advantage. The constitution of the English universities, in particular, is totally different to ours, and more resembles that of our seminaries, where the students enjoy no such freedom. It must also be remembered that the regulations of our universities make them accessible to those without property, and who spring out of the lower classes, while in England only the rich young men, and those out of the higher classes of society, can possibly exist, with a few exceptions, at the great universities of England. The advantage of the German universities in this respect no one can deny, if he only turns his regard on the great number of the most distinguished of the learned men of Germany, whose talents have, through this very accessibility of the universities, been made beneficial to the public.
On the other hand, one cannot expect from the student who has sprung from one of the lower grades of society, the same degree of refinement as graces those of a higher stand. Thus, no wonder, if through these who have been accustomed to move in a ruder sphere of society, occasions for contentions are more readily created. It must be remembered that the student, be he who he may, regards himself on an equality with his fellow-student; but on that account so much the more jealously watches over his own honour, and on that account also more readily believes himself insulted. Hence the customary formula of a challenge, "Stupid youth!" which inevitably draws a duel after it, is characteristic, as it clearly indicates that the feeling of burschen-honour is grounded on the dedication to knowledge, whose disciples can naturally in no way be so insulted as by the epithet "stupid," which implies that he is totally unfit for a priest of Minerva.
Let these facile occasions of strife be borne in mind, and then let persons of practical experience be asked how many young people of other grades are wounded and even killed in scuffles and cudgellings, they will then be induced to judge more leniently of the duel amongst students, and rather pardon the extremes of a feeling of honour, than that the chance should possibly arise of a provoked student becoming in effect the homicide of his fellows.
Thus we may regard the duel, under its regular form, as a sort of discipline which the students exercise amongst themselves, and thus banish every ruder and not seldom dangerous explosion of passion. We say the duel in its regular form, and thereupon recall to the reader's memory the following particulars. According to the regulations for the arrangement of duels in Heidelberg, every challenge must be withdrawn when the opponent declares that he gave the insult in a state of intoxication. Every duel shall, before it is undertaken, be made known to the Senior-Convention, and by it an accommodation shall be attempted.
When these regulations are violated, this does not arise from the regulations themselves, but from the partisans who have neglected to demand from the seniors the execution of their own laws. The completion of the duel, according to the Comment regulations, by sword stroke and not by lunging, and with defensive costume, which covers almost every exposed part of the body, renders any dangerous consequences almost impossible. There is no instance, from time immemorial, of any such regularly and formally completed duel in Heidelberg, being attended with fatal consequences, or one which rendered life thereafter a burden, as is only too frequently the case at universities where the duel ineveryform is punished more severely than as a breach of discipline, and where, on that account, more dangerous but more easily concealed weapons are resorted to.
By these observations we would by no means defend duels, but merely, in some degree, excuse them. Laws against such customs, which are fast rooted in old prejudices, are seldom very effectual. As little as the fist-law could by power and at once be extirpated, so little, according to our opinion, can this be accomplished with the duel. It is true that there lies in the hands of the German governments, by means of the State's-examination, a power of punishing and suppressing this practice which foreign realms do not possess. They might, it may be said, pass a law, that whoever had been engaged in a duel, should forfeit his right to the State's-examination, and thereby state service. But it must be answered, that this would be in the highest degree severe for a small offence, which in itself the regular duel really is; thus, to punish a young man in such a manner that this one folly should put an end irrevocably to the whole of his life's prospects and career. Further, it has been seen, that exactly at those times when the duel of every kind was the most strictly interdicted and repressed, the most dangerous duels by lunge and shots became more than ever frequent. And yet these draw a punishment after them which has often made a young man miserable for the remainder of his life. So long as it is not the general opinion amongst the students, that the duel cannot be held as satisfaction, so long will they, in case of actual insult, not be deterred by the most stringent punishments from resorting to it. Till then, would it not be the most reasonable course to visit the most dangerous kinds of duelling with the most severe punishments of the law, but to pursue the ordinary and less dangerous not so harshly? If this alone remains to the student, he will by degrees convince himself of the ridiculousness of such a sham-fighting, and the duel will, as it is already become less piquant, cease altogether. It will be the duty of the teacher to promulgate better views upon the nature of duelling by speech and by writing, and thus to conduct their pupils out of the spirit of it. This the greater number of them have even taken suitable opportunities of doing. As an example we quote a part of the speech which the Obermedizinalrath and Professor Dr. J. N. Ringseis delivered on the 3d of December, 1828, in the hall of the High-school at Munich, at a time when the duel there had become exceedingly predominant and reckless.
"It is a sign of a noble mind to regard true honour as the highest good, as higher than life itself. He only who does not fear death, really possesses life. We will all strive after higher honour; and every one of us must be prepared at any hour to sacrifice our life for it. It is a duty through noble manners to honour ourselves; he only who maintains a nobility of conduct himself, can respect the manners of another. It is honourable to belong to a brave union; more mightily works the spirit of every one in union. It is honourable to love your native place, be it on the Isar, the Danube, the Rhine, or the Main, since what German territory has not a host of glorious recollections? It is an honourable, proud feeling to be able to wield the sword skilfully, as if it were a member of our body. But he who honours himself, his society, his native home, honours this feeling in another; he who recognises the sacred destiny of the sword to be the protection of the highest good of mankind, dishonours it not by unholy aims. The officers of our army covered themselves with evergreen laurel,--how rare is the duel amongst them! The hero youth of the universities of North Germany performed miracles of bravery in the memorable Liberation war; and the duel was, amongst those who returned, almost without example. Rare indeed is it in the circles of the highest society; to the noblest nations of antiquity, the Greeks and Romans, it was wholly unknown.
"I repeat not the thousand-times-reiterated arguments against the irrationality of the duel, since I know well that they have fought, even excellent men, although convinced of the perversion of the practice--have fought, bowing to the lordship of opinion, spite of the certainty of losing office, property, freedom, and life itself. Truly there belonged to such conduct a kind of obstinate bravery; but greater, nobler, more worthy of the sight of heaven is the courage which tames itself; the courage of him, who although fearless, although practical in arms, although secure from discovery and punishment, yet fights not; the hero-courage of a free obedience, which our poet sings:--
Courage has the Mameluke--obedience in the Christian law.
"How is it, friends, that we feel ourselves too effeminate to contend for this loftiest laurel of courage and obedience? Certainly the nobler, the more honourable, in every accomplishment the more advanced, a man, a union, a people,--there for ever is and was the more rarely to be found the duel. What, then, must be thought of men to whom the duel is become a chief business of life? of youths called hereafter to become the leaders and the lights of your people? How, ye jurists! ye who hereafter will nicely weigh in the balance the right--will sharply reprove insolent opposition to the law--and would rather suffer shame and death than perpetrate the smallest injustice,--will you open the way through audacious contempt of the laws?
"Medical men! called to wound that they may heal, not to destroy, will you commit that double crime against the state?
"And could a philosopher--a theologist, so grossly deride the Divine Teacher's word--'Do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who despitefully use you?'
"And, noble friends! can true honour prevail, where drinking, quarrelling, and insult give the shameful occasions for the duel? True honour! where he who refuses to fight a duel is exposed in rude verses in public places, and is even maltreated with vulgar violence? True honour! where in aggravation of disobedience, dishonourable lies are also added? I glow with shame to the very depths of my mind, that any amongst us, however few in number, could be so mean as to deny the deed, could harden themselves shamelessly to make the denial a point of honour! Oh! hideous spectre of honour, without the courage of truth and of obedience! The courage of truth and obedience is the highest honour; and he who binds himself to a union pledged to lies and to disobedience, he has from the beginning no conception of honour; unfit for a priest, unfit for a judge, unfit for a physician!
"O my friends, I see you burn with a noble indignation; you are all on fire for honour, for the highest honour of manhood. Up then! there is a vast, a boundless field of laurels for you, for us all, to contend for. Shame to ignorance! shame to immorality! shame to the rude might of arms, without knowledge, without morals, without obedience! shame to obedience towards unions in things which God and the king forbid! In knowledge, in morals, in obedience, in glowing love to King and Fatherland--in them let every individual endeavour to outstrip another, every union the other, our university all others. I call you, my friends, to such a noble contest; and to it call you your honour, the fame of our university, the fame of the Fatherland, and of our King!"
These abuses, which we have just now alluded to, that is, the passion for the duel, and the strong drinking, are the causes which make the Verbindungs, which are known under the name of Landsmannschafts and Chores, odious. In fact, if one puts these dark adjuncts out of mind, then the student life, and in particular the Chore life, has only a cheerful aspect. The close incorporation of students into unions, which have regular meetings in some particular place, from which every uninvited disturber of order is banished; meetings for social entertainment and exhilaration; for practice in bodily exercises, as in fencing and gymnastics; these could only serve to a more speedy accomplishment of active and intellectual men, and would be certainly approved of by all reasonable persons. These dark adjuncts have brought the Chore life into great unpopularity, and have induced many governments to prohibit the Chores themselves, as the vehicles which contain and maintain these pernicious practices. Yet it must be remembered that practices so deeply rooted are not to be expelled by force, but only through the advancing march of humane knowledge; and it must be further acknowledged, that the Chores by the maintainance of order in these things themselves, only prevent a greater outburst of the wild Burschen-spirit. The governments have made use of the Chores frequently in order to bring the student youth to a quicker adoption of resolutions which would be for the good of the university, or of the state; and this continues to be the case in those states where they are yet allowed.
Let us imagine the Chores purified from their dross; they would then represent unions which had their own constitutions, and where those in reality who distinguished themselves most in outer life, would take the first places. Let it not be believed that in such a case the proper acknowledgment would be denied to him who, unincumbered with social life, devoted himself exclusively to knowledge. This happens by no means to those who belong to the present Chores under their present circumstances. That the student jealously watches over his honour; that he easily imagines this honour affected, grounds itself on the equal standing which he gives to every one of his fellow-members. He makes this sufficiently obvious himself, in that he will not permit the usual duel between the Student and the Philistine. We cannot blame this strict vigilance over the Burschen honour; but the means resorted to, to restore wounded honour, are truly foolish, and worthy of punishment. If we imagine the duel superseded by the sentence of a court of honour, which condemned the guilty to beg pardon, or some other proportionate punishment, there would be nothing further to be desired.
But the reasons which the government assigned for the proscription of the Burschenschaft were totally different. They were determined to this prohibition by this principle; that the student who is at the High-school in order further to develope his intellectual faculties, and to arrive at a scientific and political freedom in his views--that he, the scholar, is not called to step forth here already as a teacher of the people; that he is not called upon to overturn the constitutions of states, before he has yet learned properly to analyse their nice and elaborate construction; since it is a true assertion, that it is much more easy to pull down than to build up; and it was a piece of presumption in the youth to attempt to hurl down by violence a fabric, which the best and wisest of the people had with their best strength erected.
In Heidelberg, since the Marching-Forth of 1828, the Burschenschaft, as its especial promoter, was anew strictly proscribed, but the Landsmannschafts were sanctioned; and from each new-springing Verbindung the word of honour was taken, by the academical board, that it was no Burschenschaft. After some years, however, these Landsmannschafts were forbidden also.
So far as the Burschenschaft was a union which, on account of its ideal object, claimed prerogatives beyond the other Verbindungs, in so far by that prohibition is its return to the High-school made impossible. But so far as the Burschenschaft spirit is a real constitutional spirit, we may in Heidelberg assert with pride, that it never was abandoned by the young burgers of our High-school, and that all our present existing Verbindungs are animated by this same noble feeling. This constitutional mind has already displayed itself prominently on so many occasions, that it is not necessary to bring evidences of it. We may simply allude in confirmation, to the interest which the students have always manifested in the proceedings of the Landtag, and to the testimonies of acknowledgment which they have always given to those teachers who have there exerted themselves for the good of the people, and for the maintenance of constitutional freedom. We may notice the sympathy with the unhappy state of Poland, which the students publicly, by word and deed, expressed to the Polish officers who passed through the city. Hence, because these unions do not assume as their object the preparation for the realization of some certain idea, but merely a pleasant social life during the university years, it does not follow that the hearts of these young do not beat warmly for knowledge, for right and freedom, and that no individual amongst them pursues this noble aim, nor does it follow that these unions set themselves in opposition to such more ideal aims as may already be begun there to be pursued.
An esteemed German philologist says--"Most of our German universities bear the humane character of fine manners and chivalric bearing. They array themselves in the clear, radiating colours of the dreams of youthful pleasure; and is there conspicuous, indeed, in the academic life itself, the foam of a bubbling fermentation, this clears itself with time, and becomes in the end a noble and strong spirit." A finer panegyric we cannot pronounce; but we may corroborate it, when we add to the observations already made, how much the spirit of the young man is stimulated at the university to activity; and with what noble energy, which so eminently distinguishes the student class, he employs this activity in all directions. As there is no rule without its exception, so there is, indeed, such here; but we must not lay the measuring-wand of a general judgment on these few extravagances, though in the full elucidation of the subject we may not pass them entirely without observation.
Abroad, people have had such singular notions of the German students, that they could not for their lives conceive what could be made, in after-life, of such wild fellows; and have been amazingly astonished to hear, that they afterwards became like other reasonable people, and administered all sorts of offices of the state conscientiously, and with the most exemplary and calm discretion. We recollect a passage in the humorous work of Mr. Hood, "Up the Rhine;" at which certainly many a German student has already heartily laughed, as he has read it there as something new--that "it is notorious that these Burschen come in, according to the proverb, as Lions and go out as Lambs,--some of the wildest of them settling down in life as very civil civilians, sedate burgomasters, and the like."
Let it never be forgotten that the students represent a peculiar class, of which they who compose it, however, are but temporary members. Shall the student then carry over with him into the Philisterium, his singular attire, and his Chore-colours? It would seem as if foreigners had quite supposed this must be so. But we would ask them whether it ever occurs that a member of parliament makes a speech in his place in the House, arrayed in the student-gown which he wore at Cambridge? Shall the student, indeed, carry with him his sword, that with eccentric courage he may defend the Burschen honour, when he has himself long become a Philistine? Shall the quondam student forsake wife and children, in order to go and vindicate the injured majesty of studentdom, in order to join himself to the Marching-Forth? Could such things be, then must the German academies truly be regarded as so many great lunatic asylums, and nothing better or wiser could be done than to extirpate them, root and branch.
A few words yet remain to be said on the actual advantage derived by the German student from this life, and carried forward with him out of the green Burschendom, into the seriousness of his later vocation, and on what his after-vocation may be.
The great business of the student, as already stated, is the pursuit of science; and it is less the mass of knowledge here harvested, which brings him future advantage, than the capacity which he acquires, let him move in later life in what circle he may, of comprehending and acting in a pure scientific and philosophical spirit, upon every matter which may be thrown into his path. The student-life has many favourable influences on the character of a young man. Though the Bursch, as it regards his social position, naturally allies himself most closely to his landsmen, yet he feels himself compelled by those causes already pointed out, to exert a general tolerance towards his brethren, which though often abandoned and again submitted to, yet inoculates him with a greater degree of sufferance, which on his departure from the academical, for a more general life, unfolds itself more freely, and extends itself to all social relations. The student, indeed, as such, knows little tolerance towards non-students; yet the patience which he learns to exert towards his fellow-students, is not without its consequence, and when he steps out of his confined sphere, it then clothes itself in another outward form, and takes a general direction. The student maintains strictly and perseveringly his own views, though consequently, often erroneous ones; but this serves in after-life, to lay the ground-work of greater steadfastness of character. This firmness continues with him to his grave, though his views and principles modify and purify themselves, as his growing intelligence directs him more and more into the track of truth. And as the student stands upon his honour, for which full of the highest enthusiasm he glows, and joyfully offers up property and life, so stands he in the bonds of truth and friendship. Such bond of friendship is to him sacred as his own life, and it is to him continually a guiding-star through the gloomy paths of existence. It is to him the noblest treasure which he carries with him into the tumult of life, and he continues to it inviolably faithful.
In addition to this, the student has learned to arrive at the poetical side of life. He has continually sought and enjoyed pleasure and satisfaction; and let no man imagine that these foretell only a future trifler. No, he is thereby invited to enliven the stupidity of every-day life, and to throw new interests around the path of existence. That, however, every character, according to its own individuality, more or less favourably developes itself, and that these influences of student-life here described differ in degree in different individuals, needs no stating. We seek only to show general causes, and these are certain. Scientific merit, self-confidence, consciousness of being able to thank his own individual strength for his existence, the honour of men, and the truth of friends,--can more beautiful or delightful results than these be found? Even on the outward appearance of the quondam Bursch, the student-life has a favourable influence. The moment that the young man has entered the Philisterium he adopts the existing convenances, so far as appear conducive to his purpose, but only so far as that he can yet maintain that independence of fashion which he has already asserted. His outward manner of life continues free and unrestrained; and this, united to the practice of making a greater tour after his examination has passed, as well with scientific as with other objects, gives to the former academician a higher bearing, an acquired tact, which adheres to him through existence, and again pronounce in their consequences the greatest advantages of student-life.