Part 13

I have said nothing of the statues in the public places: the monument to the Elector Maurice, the oldest one in Dresden, representing Maurice handing the electoral sword to his brother "Father August," and just behind him their wives in widows' weeds.

The equestrian statue of Augustus the Strong, made of brass, and placed on a pedestal of sandstone, looks very spirited. The statue of Frederick Augustus II. in his coronation robes is very fine; besides others which I have not time to describe. The Roman Catholic church which we see from our windows, built in the Italian style, and profusely decorated, is said to have cost two million thalers.

Seen through the fog in the early morning, its fifty-nine statues of saints and apostles looked like ghosts, or like some pictures of the last judgment.

The green copper roofs of this church and of the government buildings give Dresden a look peculiar to itself. There are two triumphant fly-away statues on the grand bridge over the Elbe which exhilarate me every time I see them.

Brühl's Terrace is a very delightful promenade, and an ornament to the city. I was asked if I had seen the statuary at the "flurs" (flight of stairs) of this terrace. One group represents Evening, the other Night; they are very good. The sculptor Schilling is to make two more--Morning and Noon--for the flight on the other side.

On Friday we went to the palace and saw a great quantity of porcelain, some fine frescos in the throne room, particularly four large pictures from the history of Henry the Fowler. The ball-room is painted with subjects from mythology, mostly. I expected to find the palace more imposing than it was,--perhaps from seeing so many millions invested in jewels in the green rooms....

On Monday we went to Potsdam, about an hour's ride on the cars. Potsdam is the Prussian Versailles. It was founded by the Great Elector of Brandenburg, but owes all its splendor to Frederick the Great. We first visited the New Palace, which Frederick the Great built, just to show the world that his wars had not exhausted all his finances. He had an eye for bright things,--the rooms were brilliant with gold and silver, and bright-colored satin, and brocade and damask curtains. They showed us in the folds of the curtains, where the light had not faded them, how bright and beautiful they must have been when new. They also showed us the rooms in which his dogs were allowed to enter; the coverings of the sofas and chairs were terribly torn by them. One large room in this palace was entirely covered with pearl-oyster and various other kinds of shells, different marbles and stones,--all put together to represent dolphins and fishes. The floor was of Italian marble, and overhead were fresco-paintings. It was a very large room, having windows on one side, and on the opposite side mirrors, reflecting the beautiful grounds outside, making a very striking and fine effect. In the library we saw the caricature of Voltaire, made by Frederick the Great,--it is a pen-and-ink sketch. We also saw the hat, boots, gloves, etc., which were last worn by him. We were shown places on his writing-desk and tables where bits of the cloth were cut out and carried away by Napoleon. A small room, in which he used to dine with a friend or two, was so constructed that the table and food could be raised from the room beneath; thus waiters could be dispensed with, and he could converse with his friends confidentially. We went into the garrison church where Frederick the Great is buried behind the pulpit, in a plain metal sarcophagus above-ground. The sword that used to lie upon it was carried off by Napoleon, and no one knows what has become of it, but over the tomb, on each side of the pulpit, hang the eagles and standards taken from Napoleon's armies by the Prussians. His father's tomb is of marble and stands opposite his. We then rode on to the palace of Sans Souci, built by Frederick the Great. It seems to stand upon the top of a flight of terraces. The grounds were laid out in French taste, when it was the fashion to have everything stiff and formal. We saw some fine paintings and statuary, walked through the orangery, and then through the grounds, passed the historical windmill which Frederick the Great wanted to buy, but the miller would not sell. Frederick sued him and lost his case. Afterwards, when the family of the miller became poor, they offered it to the king, who bought it, but would not have it pulled down, preferring to have it stand as a monument of Prussian justice.

The carriage was waiting for us at the gate, and then, crossing the river Havel, we rode on to Babelsburg, where Emperor William lived before he was king. This is decidedly the prettiest residence that I have seen since I left home, and although the palace is large it has such a homelike look, and is so cheerful throughout, I should think the Emperor would like to spend as much time there as possible. The girl who showed us through the palace gave an envelope from the Emperor's writing-desk to one of our party, who gave it to me to put among my relics. Humboldt's study is kept just as he left it. I think I could study in that room. The night-lamp was so constructed as to appear like stars when lighted. In the drawing-room there were some beautifully-embroidered chairs, presented to the Empress by the court ladies. They were of dark-blue velvet, with heads of wheat embroidered in gold. In the apartments of the crown princess I saw the carpet presented her on her marriage by the English ladies. The attendant lifted the cloth that covered it, and it still looked as good as new. We were particularly shown an English bed, because it was a double bed, and it did seem quite a curiosity, for it was the only one we had seen on the continent. The whole palace was cheerful throughout, and had the appearance of the highest taste and refinement. The paintings and statues are exquisitely beautiful. The grounds are handsome, and the landscape quite American. The courier asked the attendant who took us through the palace whether she kept the money that was given her for herself. Oh, no! she had to give it to the steward. I suppose, however, that if no fee was required the palace would be overrun with visitors. We had to hurry to get back to Potsdam in time for the cars, and reached Berlin about dark, pretty well tired out, and did not rise until late the next morning.

THE STUDENTS OF HEIDELBERG.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

[Taylor's earliest and notable work of travel, "Views Afoot," describing his experiences while traversing Europe with a light purse and a sturdy heart, is full of quotable passages, of two of which we have availed ourselves. The following is devoted to the well-worn story of the German student, with his extraordinary capacity for beer and his insensate taste for duels. We cannot well get through Europe without some account of these striking incidents of student-life, which our author very well describes.]

Receiving a letter from my cousin one bright December morning, the idea of visiting him struck me, and so, within an hour, B---- and I were on our way to Heidelberg. It was delightful weather; the air was mild as the early days of spring, the pine-forests around wore a softer green, and though the sun was but a hand's breadth high, even at noon, it was quite warm on the open road.

We stopped for the night at Bensheim; the next morning was as dark as a cloudy day in the north can be, wearing a heavy gloom I never saw elsewhere. The wind blew the snow down from the summits upon us, but, being warm from walking, we did not heed it. The mountains looked higher than in summer, and the old castles more grim and frowning. From the hard roads and freezing wind my feet became very sore, and after limping along in excruciating pain for a league or two, I filled my boots with brandy, which deadened the wounds so much that I was enabled to go on in a kind of trot, which I kept up, only stopping ten minutes to dinner, till we reached Heidelberg.

The same evening there was to be a general commers, or meeting of the societies among the students, and I determined not to omit one of the most interesting and characteristic features of student life. So, borrowing a cap and coat, I looked the student well enough to pass for one of them, though the former article was somewhat of the Philister form. Baader, a young poet of some note, and president of the "Palatea" society, having promised to take us there, we met at eight o'clock at an inn frequented by the students, and went to the rendezvous, near the Markt Platz.

A confused sound of voices came from the inn, as we drew near; groups of students were standing around the door. In the entry we saw the Red Fisherman, one of the most conspicuous characters about the University. He is a small, stout man, with bare neck and breast, red hair, whence his name, and a strange mixture of roughness and benevolence in his countenance. He had saved many persons, at the risk of his own life, from drowning in the Neckar, and on that account is leniently dealt with by the faculty whenever he is arrested for assisting the students in any of their unlawful proceedings. Entering the room, I could scarcely see at first, on account of the smoke that ascended from a hundred pipes. All was noise and confusion. Near the door sat some half-dozen musicians, who were getting their instruments ready for action; and the long room was filled with tables, all of which seemed to be full, and the students were still pressing in. The tables were covered with great stone jugs and long beer-glasses; the students were talking and shouting and drinking.

One, who appeared to have the arrangement of the meeting, found seats for us together, and, having made a slight acquaintance with those sitting next us, we felt more at liberty to witness their proceedings. They were all talking in a sociable, friendly way, and I saw no one who appeared to be intoxicated. The beer was a weak mixture, which I should think would make one fall over from its _weight_ before it would intoxicate him. Those sitting near me drank but little, and that principally to make or return compliments. One or two at the other end of the table were more boisterous, and more than one glass was overturned on the legs below it. Leaves containing the songs for the evening lay at each seat; and at the head, where the president sat, were two swords crossed, with which he occasionally struck upon the table to preserve order. Our president was a fine, romantic-looking young man, dressed in the old German costume, which is far handsomer than the modern. I never saw in any company of young men so many handsome, manly countenances. If their faces were any index of their characters, there were many noble, free souls among them.

Nearly opposite to me sat a young poet, whose dark eyes flashed with feeling as he spoke to those near him. After some time passed in talking and drinking together, varied by an occasional air from the musicians, the president beat order with the sword, and the whole company joined in one of their glorious songs, to a melody at the same time joyous and solemn. Swelled by so many manly voices, it rose up like a hymn of triumph; all other sounds were stilled. Three times during the singing all rose up, clashed their glasses together around the table, and drank to their Fatherland, a health and blessing to the patriot, and honor to those who struggle in the cause of freedom, at the close thundering out their motto,--

"Fearless in strife, to the banner still true!"

After this song the same order as before was continued, except that students from the different societies made short speeches accompanied by some toast or sentiment. One spoke of Germany, predicting that all her dissensions would be overcome, and she would rise up at last like a phoenix among the nations of Europe; and at the close gave "Strong, united, regenerated Germany!" Instantly all sprang to their feet, and, clashing the glasses together, gave a thundering "Hoch!" This enthusiasm for their country is one of the strongest characteristics of the German students; they have ever been first in the field for her freedom, and on them mainly depends her future redemption.

Cloths were passed around, the tables wiped off, and preparations made to sing the "_Landsfather_" or consecration song. This is one of the most important and solemn of their ceremonies, since by performing it the new students are made _burschen_, and the bands of brotherhood continually kept fresh and sacred. All became still a moment; then they commenced the lofty song,--

"Silent bending, each one lending To the solemn tones his ear, Hark, the song of songs is sounding, Back from joyful choir resounding; Hear it, German brothers, hear!

"German, proudly raise it, loudly Singing of your fatherland. Fatherland! thou land of story, To the altars of thy glory Consecrate us, sword in hand!

"Take the beaker, pleasure-seeker, With thy country's drink brimmed o'er; In thy left the sword is blinking; Pierce it through the cap, while drinking To thy Fatherland once more!"

With the first line of the last stanza the presidents sitting at the head of the table take their glasses in their right hands, and at the third line the sword in their left, at the end striking their glasses together and drinking.

"In left hand gleaming, thou art beaming, Sword from all dishonor free! Thus I pierce the cap, while swearing, It in honor ever wearing, I a valiant Bursch will be!"

They clash their swords together till the third line is sung, when each takes his cap, and piercing the point of the sword through the crown, draws it down to the guard. Leaving their caps on the swords, the presidents stand behind the two next students, who go through the same ceremony, receiving the swords at the appropriate time, and giving them back loaded with their caps also. This ceremony is going on at every table at the same time. These two stanzas are repeated for every pair of students till all have gone through with it, and the presidents have arrived at the bottom of the table, with their swords strung full of caps.

[While the song goes on, the president restores the caps, one by one, a consecration verse being chanted as each student receives his cap. When all are restored, the ceremonies end with a concluding verse, in which the singers pledge themselves to the service of their Fatherland.]

The Landsfather being over, the students were less orderly; the smoking and drinking began again, and we left, as it was already eleven o'clock, glad to breathe the pure cold air.

In the University I heard Gervinus, who was formerly professor in Göttingen, but was obliged to leave on account of his liberal principles. He is much liked by the students and his lectures are very well attended. They had this winter a torchlight procession in honor of him. He is a stout, round-faced man, speaks very fast, and makes them laugh continually with his witty remarks. In the room I saw a son of Rückert, the poet, with a face strikingly like his father's. The next evening I went to hear Schlosser, the great historian. Among his pupils are the two princes of Baden, who are now at the University. He came hurriedly in, threw down his portfolio, and began instantly to speak. He is an old, gray-headed man, but still active and full of energy. The Germans find him exceedingly difficult to understand, as he is said to use the English construction almost entirely; for this reason perhaps I understand him quite easily. He lectures on the French Revolution, but is engaged in writing a Universal History, the first numbers of which are published.

Two or three days after, we heard that a duel was to take place at Neuenheim, on the opposite side of the Neckar, where the students have a house hired for that purpose. In order to witness the spectacle, we started immediately with two or three students. Along the road were stationed old women, at intervals, as guards, to give notice of the approach of the police, and from these we learned that one duel had already been fought, and they were preparing for the other. The Red Fisherman was busy in an outer room grinding the swords, which are made as sharp as razors. In the large room some forty or fifty students are walking about, while the parties were preparing. This was done by taking off the coat and vest and binding a great thick leather garment on, which reached from the breast to the knees, completely protecting the body. They then put on a leather glove reaching nearly to the shoulder, tied a thick cravat around the throat, and drew on a cap with a large vizor. This done, they were walked about the room a short time, the seconds holding out their arms to strengthen them; their faces all this time betrayed considerable anxiety.

All being ready, the seconds took their stations immediately behind them, each armed with a sword, and gave the words, "_Ready--bind your weapons--loose!_" They instantly sprang at each other, exchanged two or three blows, when the seconds cried "Halt!" and struck their swords up. Twenty-four rounds of this kind ended the duel, without either being hurt, though the cap of one of them was cut through and his forehead grazed. All their duels do not end so fortunately, however, as the frightful scars on the faces of many of those present testified. It is a gratification to know that but a small portion of the students keep up this barbarous custom. The great body is opposed to it; in Heidelberg, four societies, comprising more than one-half the students, have been formed against it. A strong desire for such a reform seems to prevail, and the custom will probably be totally discontinued in a short time.

This view of the student-life was very interesting to me; it appeared in a much better light than I had been accustomed to view it. Their peculiar customs, except duelling and drinking, of course, may be better tolerated when we consider their effect on the liberty of Germany. It is principally through them that a free spirit is kept alive; they have ever been foremost to rise up for their Fatherland and bravest in its defence. And though many of their customs have so often been held up to ridicule, among no other class can one find warmer, truer, or braver hearts.

THE STREETS OF BERLIN.

MATTHEW WOODS.

[Among the object-lessons which the cities of Europe have for Americans there is none more evident and impressive than the beauty and cleanliness of the streets of many of these municipalities, as compared with those of the land beyond the ocean. Dr. Woods, in his "Rambles of a Physician," draws a striking picture of the aspect of the principal street of Berlin, which we reproduce for the benefit of our readers.]

To-day I have been riding on tramways through wide, smooth, perfectly clean streets, lined on each side by magnificent houses, mostly with their fronts a complete net-work of graceful carvings. In building here the custom is to use rough stones, and when the house is erected, carve over it the development of some legend, the illustrations of some classic tale, or it may be, the story of the rise and progress of the builder, or the man for whom it is being built; or, perhaps, simply a reproduction in stone of some Pompeiian wall decoration, so that merely a stroll through the streets, or a ride on a car, exhibits sights that I imagine are seldom if ever seen outside of Germany. To write down all worthy of perpetual remembrance and praise, during a walk through its splendid ways, would require much time, and I will therefore only say that amid a profusion of ornamentation, you seldom see anything meaningless or incapable of pointing a moral or adorning a tale.

The street wherein I write, what words could record its splendors! From the happy moment I passed the Royal National Gallery, with its great front covered with the commanding pictures by Cornelius, with background of gold, and crossed the handsome bridge, _Schloss Brücke_, ornamented with colossal marble statues, full of action and life, that spans the lovely embanked Spree, until now, with a charming park and the Cathedral at my back, the University in front, on my left, in the middle of the street Rauch's wonderful statue of Frederick the Great, said to be the grandest monument in Europe, and by my side the plain palace of the Emperor, I have been amazed; words cannot describe the splendor of the place. The tops of the houses--cornices--are lined with marble figures larger than life; the pediments are alive with men, women, children, and horses, in high relief; and along the sidewalks are sitting and standing celebrities in stone, whose very pedestals contain enough to employ the admiration for weeks; and yet this is but the approach to the famous street that, beginning at the castle of the Kaiser, ends in the Brandenburg Gate,--I am merely within the Garden of Eden, with long vistas of prospective bliss extending interminably before.

I stand for a few moments in front of Rauch's stupendous statue of Fritz surrounded by his friends. I use the word "stupendous" not in reference to its size, although it is enormous, but to its effect. It occupies a position in the middle of the street, in front of the plain two-story-and-a-half castle of Kaiser William, now in his ninetieth year, and well. Where is there another avenue in the world that would not be obstructed by this massive group? The Monuments--clustered around a granite pedestal twenty-five feet high, on which is placed an equestrian statue of Frederick the Great--are bronze groups, life size, of the leading generals and statesmen during the Seven Years' War, standing or mounted on horses as they lived, in animated discussion or thought, forming a glorious aureole around their chief. From where I stand I count nineteen people and four horses, all apparently endowed with immortal life; besides these, on this side (there are three others like it) are cannon, armor, trumpets, helmets, muskets, and trees, which, although of metal, to say of them that they look real would be short of the truth; they exceed reality, at least as we ordinary beings understand that most complimented word. I would venture to say that outside of Prussian Germany _models_ for these magnificent figures could not be found, and that a sculptor producing such would have to create them himself; and yet these are the men of the streets of Frankfort, Weimar, and Berlin, as splendid-looking fellows as the sun ever shone upon,--the very street-sweepers even exhibiting a bearing and dignity commanding respect.

The subject is too prolific in suggestions; I cannot proceed. It is also too great for my limited time, especially as other attractions are luring me on. What a street! what shops! filled with wonders in metal and precious stones. What bronzes and jewels! Why do we never see such exquisite productions in our palatial stores? Lingerers around shop-windows find a paradise in this promenade; but here is an "Arcade," the stone sides carved to the lofty cornices, arches of glass stretching across the way from eave to eave, the street paved in mosaic, and here and there in recesses clusters of exotics and palms. What wares are exhibited in this virtuoso's Eden! I stand in front of the window, lost in thought, until tired with the contemplation of unspeakable things.