Part 3

A friend of mine once on his way from Dublin to Dunleary* had the misfortune to find himself on a car drawn by an animal so wretched as to excite his deepest compassion, for in addition to a large surface of the back being perfectly denuded of skin and flesh, one end of a stick had been twisted on the creature’s ear, the other end firmly fastened to the harness so as to keep the animal’s head in the position of certain would-be dandies who deem it indispensable to walk _tête-à-l’air_. Not comprehending the aim of such apparently wanton cruelty, my friend asked the driver for an explanation of the ear torture. The fellow turned towards him with a look of half compassion for his ignorance struggling with the low waggery of his caste. “Troth an’ yer honour,” said he, “that’s to divart his attinshion from the _raw_ on his back.”

* Dunleary changed its name to Kingstown in 1821 in honour of George the Fourth’s visit.--E. D.

And I really doubt not but that by “divarting their attinshion” the rulers of German universities have the best chance of success in managing the rude and indomitable spirits.

After a week spent in rambling through the glens and mountains of their delightful country, we set out for Andernach on our way to Coblentz. Here we arrived late in the evening, and went supperless to bed, as the Duke of Clarence, who had just arrived, had ordered everything eatable in the town for himself and his suite. On learning this, we had the good fortune to meet with an English family whom we had previously seen in Holland, and we journeyed together now like old acquaintances. I shall not attempt to delay you by any description of the scenery as we voyaged up the Rhine. The prospect continues to be beautiful until you approach Mayence; then the country becomes open, the mountains degenerate into sloping hills, and the course of the river is less winding.

At last we arrived in Frankfort, but there was little inducement to remain here, as we had no introduction to the Baron von Rothschild, the greatest entertainer and _bon vivant_ in Europe. We merely waited to hear the opera (in which we were much disappointed), and set off for Cassel. I pass over all account of Daneker’s statue of Ariadne and the still greater lion, Professor Soemmering, for every one who has made the _petit_ tour has described both; and I’ll wager my dukedom there is not a young lady’s album in Great Britain which does not contain some lines “On seeing” the beautiful figure I allude to. Ere I depart, however, let me mention a short but striking inscription which I read on the sun-dial in the town--“Sol me--vos--umbra regit.” You may conceive that the German “schnell wagen” is admirably translated by the English words “snail waggon,” when I tell you that we were three days travelling from Frankfort to Cassel, a distance of about 150 English miles.

A German diligence reminds one wonderfully of some huge old family mansion to which various unseemly and incongruous additions have been made, according to the fancy or necessity of its successive proprietors for ages. Conceive a large, black, heavy-looking coach to the front of which is placed a chariot, a covered car to the back, and on the roof a cabriolet; and imagine this, in addition to twelve phlegmatic Germans (who deem it indispensable to drink “schnaps” or “gutes bier” whenever there is a house to sell either), loaded with as much luggage as an ordinary canal boat in the country could carry--the whole leviathan drawn by nine wretched-looking ponies scarcely able to drag along their preposterously long tails,--and you will readily believe that we did not fly.

When we reached Cassel it was night, and the streets were in perfect darkness--not a lamp shone out,--and we saw absolutely nothing till we drew up at the door of Der Kônig von Preussen. On asking the following day the reason of the remarkable want of illumination, we were informed that when the almanac announced moonlight, it was not customary to light the lamps of the town,*--and the moon not being properly aware of this dependence upon her, was not a whit more punctual in Cassel than elsewhere.

* It is strange that Lever considered this a remarkable phenomenon. The economical custom he refers to was not uncommon in many provincial towns--in Ireland at any rate-- up to a very recent date.--E. D.

Cassel is the most beautifully built and most beautifully situated town that I know of. Besides having a very excellent Opera, it boasts of one of the best museums in Germany, and of a very respectable Gallery of Painting and Sculpture. These form two sides of a great open _platz_ or square; the Palace fills up the third side, and the fourth has merely a large iron railing, and affords a most magnificent view of a richly-wooded landscape, the background formed by the lofty mountains of Thuringia. In the middle of this railing a large gateway opens upon a broad flight of stone steps which lead down to a handsomely planted park. Following the windings of a silvery river which flows between banks adorned with blossoming shrubs and flowers, the scene brought to my mind the beautiful lines of Shelley:--

“And on that stream whose inconstant bosom Was plank’t under boughs of embowering blossom, With golden and green light slanting through Their heaven of many a tangled hue, Broad water-lilies lay tremulously, And starry river-buds glimmered by, And around them the soft stream did glide and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.”

At last we came in sight of Wilhelmshöhe, the country palace of the Electors of Hesse; but here, alas! the old Dutch taste in gardening prevails,--

“Grove nods to grove, Each alley has its brother.”

Wherever you turn your eyes, some deity in lead or marble meets you, who, from its agile attitude, seems in the act of taking flight at your approach. But the great wonder of the place is the famous _jet d’eau_, which is said to be 200 feet in height. To see this all Cassel assembles every Sunday on foot or in carriages; but though the effect of the water rushing over the rocks and forming hundreds of small cataracts is undoubtedly fine, yet the illusion is destroyed by arriving before the commencement of the exhibition, and seeing Hessian Cockneys watching some dry canal with patient anxiety and filling the empty vase of some basking Amphion. However, the scene was a gay one; and the splendid carriage of the Elector, who sat, in all the glory of a rich uniform and with moustaches _à la Prusse_, smoking most cavalierly, beside a lady (_not_ his Duchess), was at once characteristic of the country and the individual.

After stopping in Cassel for three days, which passed most agreeably, we took flight, and at the end of a forty miles’ excursion--

“In our stage-coach waggon trotting in, We made our entrance to the U- Nivewity of Gottingen.”

It was a fine night in the month of June, and the moon was shining brightly upon the towers and steeples of Gottingen, as the heavy diligence, thundering over the pavement of the main street, drew up within the _port-cocher_ of Der Hof von England. We alighted, and entered a long low room in which about forty young men, evidently students, were seated at supper. At the head of the table sat the host himself, doling out soup from a vessel the proportions of which had well-nigh led me to suspect that I had mistaken the University town, and was actually in company with the Heidelberg Tun.

We soon retired to our beds, but arose early in the morning and found, to our surprise, that even then--it was but six o’clock--the streets were crowded with students hastening to and from the various lecture-rooms, their long braided frock-coats and moustaches giving them a military air strangely at variance with their spectacled noses and lounging gait.

In three days I was enrolled a student of Gottingen, which, besides conferring on me the undoubted advantages of one of the finest libraries in Europe, with admission to various lectures, collections, botanical gardens, &c., also bestowed upon me the more equivocal honour of being eligible to fight a duel, and drink _bruderschaft_ in the beer-cellar of the University. I now thought it time to avail myself of some of the numerous introductory letters with which I had paved my trunk on leaving home; and accordingly, having accoutred myself in a suit of sables, and one hand armed with a large canister of Lundy-Foot (which I had brought with me as a propitiatory offering to the greatest nose in Europe) and my credentials in the other, I took my way through the town.

After wandering for some time my guide brought me at length to the door of a long, low, white house, with nothing remarkable about it save the silence and apparent desolation which reigned around, for it stood in the most unfrequented part of the city. On arriving I inquired for the professor, and was told by the servant that he was above-stairs in his cabinet; and having given me this piece of information she immediately returned into a little den off the hall from which she had emerged. I ascended the stairs, and found little difficulty in discovering the apartment, as all the doors were labelled with appropriate titles.

_Herein!_ shouted in a voice of thunder, was the answer from within to my still small knock at the door. I entered, and beheld a small and venerable-looking old man, with a quantity of white hair floating in careless profusion upon his neck and shoulders. His head, which was almost preternaturally large, was surmounted by a green velvet cap placed a little on one side: he was grotesquely enveloped in a species of fur cloak with large sleeves, and altogether presented the most extraordinary figure I had ever seen.

I was again roused by the sound of his voice interrogating me in no less than six languages (ere I found my tongue) as to my name, country, &c, for he at once perceived that I was a foreigner. I presented my letter and present, with which he seemed highly pleased, and informed me that his _guter freund_, Lord Talbot, always brought him Irish snuff; and then welcoming me to Gottingen, he seized my hand, pressed me down on a seat, and began talking concerning my travels, plans, probable stay at the University, &c. I now felt myself relieved from the awe with which I had at first contemplated the interview, and looked around with a mingled feeling of admiration and surprise at the odd _mélange_ of curiosities in natural history, skulls, drawings, medals, and even toys, which filled the cabinet. But indeed the worthy professor was by far the greatest lion of the collection.

I observed that many of our newest English publications lay upon his table; and on my remarking it, he looked for a few minutes among them, and then drew out a small pamphlet, which he placed in my hand, saying at the same time that he had derived much pleasure from the perusal of it. I must confess it was with no small gratification I found it to be a description of the Fossil Elk (now in the Dublin Society House) written by Mr Hart of Dublin. He made many inquiries concerning the author, and expressed his thanks for the delicate attention shown him in the presentation of the work. He then spoke of the London University, the plan of which lay before him; and on standing up to take my leave, I asked him whether the Gall and Spurzheim theories were to comprise part of my university creed and course of study. To which he answered, “No; but if you will wait till October we are to have a new system broached,” and then, chuckling at this hit at the fondness of his countrymen for speculating, he pressed me to revisit him soon and see his collection.*

* Blumenbach is sketched more fully in ‘Arthur O’Leary.’ --E. D.

On my way homeward I was met by a student with whom I had become acquainted the day before at the _table d’hôte_. He invited me to drink coffee with him in one of the gardens outside the town, and on our way thither he told me that I should see a specimen of the Burschen life, as a duel was to be fought at the place to which we were then fast approaching. I could not conceive from the tone of my companion whether this was merely a piece of badinage on his part or not, for he informed me with the greatest indifference that the cause of the meeting was the refusal of one of the parties to pledge the other in beer, the invitation being given at a time when the offender was busy drinking his coffee. Such a reason for mortal conflict never entered even into my Irish ideas of insult. We had by this time arrived at the garden, which, crowded with swaggering savage-looking students, most of them with their shirt-collars open and their long hair hanging upon their shoulders, was indeed deserving of a better fate than the code of the _Comment_ had allowed to it. It was a tract of something more than an acre in extent, tastefully planted with flowering-shrubs and evergreens, and crossed by “many a path of lawn and moss”; and in a sequestered corner, shaded by one large chestnut-tree, stood the monument of Burger, the sweetest lyric poet in any language, not even excepting our own Anacreon, Moore. I was aroused from my silent admiration of the weeping figure which bends so mournfully over the simple urn of the peaceful dead by a voice near me; and on turning around I beheld a tall athletic figure, denuded of coat and waistcoat, busily engaged polishing his broadsword. At this moment my friend arrived to inform me that there was no time to be lost,--we should scarcely get places, the duel having excited a more than usual degree of interest from the fact that the combatants had a great reputation as swordsmen.

We ascended a steep narrow stair which led into a large well-lighted room, but so full of figures, flourishing swords, and meerschaums, that some minutes elapsed before I could comprehend the scene before me. A space had been left in the middle of this chaotic assemblage. At a signal given the spectators all fell back to the walls, and at this moment two young men, wearing large leathern guards upon their breasts and arms, entered and took their places opposite each other. They crossed their swords, and I could scarcely breathe, anticipating the conflict; but I soon discovered that they were only the seconds measuring the distance. This done, their places were taken by the principals, who, stretching out their arms until their swords crossed, were placed in the proper positions by their respective seconds. The umpire, or, to use the Burschen phrase, the Impartial, then came forward, and having examined the weapons, and finding all fair, gave the word “Streich ein,” which was the signal for the insulted to make the first blow. With the rapidity of lightning his arm descended, and when approaching the shoulder of his antagonist he made a feint, and, carrying his point round, cut with the full force of a flowing stroke deep into the armpit of the other, whose hand, already uplifted to avenge the blow he could not avert, was arrested by the opposite second, it being _contre les règles_ to strike while blood is flowing. He was borne home, and some weeks afterwards I heard that he had left the University, carrying with him disease for life.

This occurrence took not more time than I have spent in relating it. In a few minutes the room was cleared, the bystanders were drinking their coffee and enjoying their meerschaums, scattered through the gardens; and I returned to my lodgings fully impressed with the necessity of leaving a relic of my features behind me in Gôttingen.

You will perhaps say that this is an extravagant picture of student life. It is not: such occurrences are of everyday, and the system which inculcates these practices is not confined to one university, but with some slight modifications is found in all The students of Halle and Heidelberg had their _Comment_ (or Code of Honour) as well as their brethren of Jena and Gottingen, and it little matters whether the laws be called Burschenschaft or Landsmanschaft, the principle is the same.

The great fundamental maxim instilled into the mind of every young man entering upon his university career is the vast superiority that students enjoy over all classes in the creation, of what rank soever. The honest citizen of every university town is rudely denominated Philistine in contradistinction to the chosen few; and to such an extent is this carried, that no ties of relationship can mitigate the severity of a law which forbids the student to hold conversation with a burgher. This necessarily leads to counteraction, and woe be to the unhappy townsman who refuses aught to his lordly patron. I well recollect an adventure, the relation of which will set this system in a clearer light than if I were prosing for hours in the abstract.

I was lolling one evening on my sofa enjoying a volume of Kotzebue over my coffee, when my door opened and a tall young man entered. His light-blue frock and long sabre bespoke him a Prussian, no less than the white stripe upon his cloth cap, which, placed on one side of his head with true Burschen familiarity, he made no motion to remove. He immediately addressed me--

“You are an Englishman studying here?”

“Yes.”

“You deal for coffee, et cetera, with Vaust in the Weender Strasse?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, do so no longer.”

This was said not with any menacing air but with the most business-like composure. He seemed to think he had said enough, but judging from my look of surprise that I had not clearly comprehended the full force of the _sorites_ which had led to this conclusion, he added, by way of explanation,--

“I have lived two years in his house, and on my asking this morning he refused to lend me fourteen louis d’or.”

Immediately perceiving the drift of this visit, I recovered presence of mind enough to ask what the consequence would be if I neglected this injunction.

“You will then fight us all. We are forty-eight in number, and Prussians. Adieu.”

Having said this with the most provoking nonchalance, he withdrew, and the door closed after him, leaving me with an unfinished abjuration of groceries upon my lips.

Ere the following day closed my Prussian friend again visited me to say that Vaust, having complied with the demand made upon him, was no longer under ban.

And now that I have shown you the dark side of the picture, let me assure you that there is a better one. For firm adherence to each other, for true brotherhood, the German student is above any other I ever met with; and although the principle of honour is overstrained, yet in many respects the consequences are good, and the chivalrous feeling thus inculcated renders him incapable of a mean or unworthy action. There is in everything they do at this period a mixture of highly wrought romantic feeling which strangely contrasts with the drudging, plodding habits which distinguish them in after days.

As I have all along preferred to give instances and facts rather than to indulge in mere speculation, I shall relate an occurrence which made too strong an impression on me ever to be forgotten.

I had been about a month in Göttingen, when I was sitting alone one evening in that species of indolent humour in which we hail a friend’s approach without possessing energy sufficient to seek for society abroad, when my friend Eisendaller entered. He resisted all my entreaties to remain, and briefly informed me that he came to request me to accompany him the following morning to Meissner, a distance of about five leagues, where he was to fight a duel. He told me that to avoid suspicion in town the horses should wait at my door, which was outside the ramparts, as early as five o’clock. Having thus acquainted me with the object of his visit, and having cautioned me not to forget that he would breakfast with me before starting, he wished me good-night and departed.

I remained awake the greater part of the night conjecturing what might be the reason for this extraordinary caution, for I well knew that several duels took place every day within the precincts of the University without mention being made of them, or any inquiry being instituted by the prorector or consul.

Towards morning I fell into a kind of disturbed sleep, from which I was awakened by my friend entering and halloing “Auf, auf! die Sonne sheint hell” (Up, up! the sun shines bright)--the first line of a well-known student “catch.”

I rose and dressed myself, and, having breakfasted, we mounted our nags and set off at a sharp pace to the place of meeting. For the first few miles not a word was spoken on either side: my companion was apparently wrapped up in his own thoughts, and I did not wish to intrude upon his feelings at such a moment. At last he broke silence, and informed me that the duel was to be fought with pistols, as he and his adversary had vainly endeavoured to decide this quarrel in several meetings with swords. The cause of this deadly animosity--for such it must have been to require a course rarely if ever pursued by a student of resorting to pistols--he did not clearly explain, but merely gave me to understand that it originated concerning a relative of his opponent,--a very lovely girl, whom he had met at the Court of Hanover.

Having given this brief explanation he again relapsed into silence, and we rode on for miles without a word.

The morning was delightful, the country through which we passed highly picturesque, and there was an appearance of happy content and cheerfulness on the faces of the peasants--who all saluted us as they went forth to their morning labour--that stood in awful contrast to our feelings, hurrying forward, as we were, on the mission of death.

At length we arrived at Meissner, where several of my friend’s party were expecting him, and, having stabled our horses, we left the town and took a narrow path across the fields, which led to a mill about half a mile off. This was the place of rendezvous. On our way we overtook the other party, who had all passed the preceding night at Meissner,--and guess my surprise and horror to find that my friend’s antagonist was one of my own intimate acquaintances, and the very student who had been the first to show me any attention on my arriving at Gottingen! He was a young Prussian named Hanstell, whose mild manners and gentlemanlike deportment had acquired for him the sobriquet of “der Zahm” (the Gentle). After saluting each other the parties proceeded to the ground together. There was little time spent in arranging the preliminaries. It was agreed, as both were well-known marksmen, to throw dice for the first fire. The seconds then came forward, and Hanstel’s friends announced that Eisendaller had won. There was an instantaneous falling back of all but the two principals, who now took their positions about fifteen yards from each other. I watched them both closely, and never did I see men more apparently unmoved than they were at that moment. Not a muscle of their features betrayed the least emotion or any concern of the awful situation in which they were placed.