THE STORY OF MY LIFE FROM CHILDHOOD TO MANHOOD

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

By Georg Ebers

Translated from the German by Mary J. Safford

 TO MY SONS. 

 When I began the incidents of yore, Still in my soul's depths treasured, to record, A voice within said: Soon, life's journey o'er, Thy portrait sole remembrance will afford. 

 And, ere the last hour also strikes for thee, Search thou the harvest of the vanished years. Not futile was thy toil, if thou canst see That for thy sons fruit from one seed appears. 

 Upon the course of thine own life look back, Follow thy struggles upwards to the light; Methinks thy errors will not seem so black, If they thy loved ones serve to guide aright. 

 And should they see the star which 'mid the dark Illumed thy pathway to thy distant goal, Thither they'll turn the prow of their life bark; Its radiance their course also will control. 

 Ay, when the ivy on my grave doth grow, When my dead hand the helm no more obeys, This book to them the twofold light will show, To which I ne'er forget to turn my gaze. 

 One heavenward draws, with rays so mild and clear, Eyes dim with tears, when the world darkness veils, Showing 'mid desert wastes the spring anear, If, spent with wandering, your courage fails. 

 Since first your lips could syllable a prayer, Its mercy you have proved a thousandfold; I too received it, though unto my share Fell what I pray life ne'er for you may hold. 

 The other light, whose power full well you know, E'en though in words I nor describe nor name, Alike for me and you its rays aye glow-- Maternal love, by day and night the same. 

 This light within your youthful hearts has beamed, Ripening the germs of all things good and fair; I also fostered them, and joyous dreamed Of future progress to repay our care. 

 Thus guarded, unto manhood you have grown; Still upward, step by step, you steadfast rise The oldest, healing's noble art has won; The second, to his country's call replies;

 The third, his mind to form is toiling still; And as this book to you I dedicate, I see the highest wish life could fulfil In you, my trinity, now incarnate. 

 To pay it homage meet, my sons I'll guide As I revere it, 'mid the world's turmoil, Love for mankind, which putteth self aside, In love for native land and blessed toil. 

 GEORG EBERS. 

 TOTZING ON THE STARNBERGER SEE, October 1, 1892. 

INTRODUCTION. 

In this volume, which has all the literary charm and deftness ofcharacter drawing that distinguish his novels, Dr. Ebers has told thestory of his growth from childhood to maturity, when the loss ofhis health forced the turbulent student to lead a quieter life, andinclination led him to begin his Egyptian studies, which resulted, firstof all, in the writing of An Egyptian Princess, then in his travels inthe land of the Pharaohs and the discovery of the Ebers Papyrus (thetreatise on medicine dating from the second century B. C. ), and finallyin the series of brilliant historical novels that has borne his name tothe corners of the earth and promises to keep it green forever. 

This autobiography carries the reader from 1837, the year of Dr. Ebers'sbirth in Berlin, to 1863, when An Egyptian Princess was finished. The subsequent events of his life were outwardly calm, as befits theexistence of a great scientist and busy romancer, whose fecund fancy wasbased upon a groundwork of minute historical research. 

Dr. Ebers attracted the attention of the learned world by his treatiseon Egypt and the Book of Moses, which brought him a professorship athis university, Gottingen, in 1864, the year following the close of thisautobiography. His marriage to the daughter of a burgomaster of Rigatook place soon afterward. During the long years of their union Mrs. Ebers was his active helpmate, many of the business details relating tohis works and their American and English editions being transacted byher. 

After his first visit to Egypt, Ebers was called to the University ofLeipsic to fill the chair of Egyptology. He went again to Egypt in1872, and in the course of his excavations at Thebes unearthed theEbers Papyrus already referred to, which established his name among theleaders of what was then still a new science, whose foundations had beenlaid by Champollion in 1821. 

Ebers continued to occupy his chair at the Leipsic University, but, while fulfilling admirably the many duties of a German professorship, hefound time to write several of his novels. Uarda was published in1876, twelve years after the appearance of An Egyptian Princess, to befollowed in quick succession by Homo Sum, The Sisters, The Emperor, and all that long line of brilliant pictures of antiquity. He began hisseries of tales of the middle ages and the dawn of the modern era in1881 with The Burgomaster's Wife. In 1889 the precarious state of hishealth forced him to resign his chair at the university. 

Notwithstanding his sufferings and the obstacles they placed in hispath, he continued his wonderful intellectual activity until the end. His last novel, Arachne, was issued but a short time before his death, which took place on August 7, 1898, at the Villa Ebers, in Tutzing, on the Starenberg Lake, near Munich, where most of his later life wasspent. The monument erected to his memory by his own indefatigableactivity consists of sixteen novels, all of them of perennial valueto historical students, as well as of ever-fresh charm to lovers offiction, many treatises on his chosen branch of learning, two greatworks of reference on Egypt and Palestine, and short stories, fairytales, and biographies. 

The Story of my Life is characterized by a captivating freshness. Eberswas born under a lucky star, and the pictures of his early home life, his restless student days at that romantic old seat of learning, Gottingen, are bright, vivacious, and full of colour. The biographer, historian, and educator shows himself in places, especially in thesketches of the brothers Grimm, and of Froebel, at whose institute, Keilhau, Ebers received the foundation of his education. His discussionof Froebel's method and of that of his predecessor, Pestalozzi, is fullof interest, because written with enthusiasm and understanding. He wasa good German, in the largest sense of the word, and this trait, too, is brought forward in his reminiscences of the turbulent days of 1848 inBerlin. 

The story of Dr. Ebers's early life was worth the telling, and he hastold it himself, as no one else could tell it, with all the consummateskill of his perfected craftsmanship, with all the reverent love ofan admiring son, and with all the happy exuberance of a careless youthremembered in all its brightness in the years of his maturity. Finally, the book teaches a beautiful lesson of fortitude in adversity, ofsuffering patiently borne and valiantly overcome by a spirit that, greatly gifted by Nature, exercised its strength until the thin silverlining illuminated the apparently impenetrable blackness of the cloudthat overhung Georg Moritz Ebers's useful and successful life. 

THE STORY OF MY LIFE. 

CONTENTS. 

 BOOK 1. I. -GLANCING BACKWARD. II. -MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD III. -ON FESTAL DAYS IV. -THE JOURNEY TO HOLLAND TO ATTEND THE GOLDEN WEDDING V. -LENNESTRASSE. --LENNE--EARLY IMPRESSIONS

 BOOK 2. VI. -MY INTRODUCTION TO ART, AND ACQUAINTANCES VII. -WHAT A BERLIN CHILD ENJOYED ON THE SPREE AND GRANDMOTHER'S VIII. -THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD IX. -THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH

 BOOK3. X. -AFTER THE NIGHT OF REVOLUTION XI. -IN KEILHAU XII -FRIEDRICH FROEBEL'S IDEAL OF EDUCATION

 BOOK 4. XIII. -THE FOUNDERS OF THE KEILHAU INSTITUTE XIV. -IN THE FOREST AND ON THE MOOR. XV. -SUMMER PLEASURES AND RAMBLES XVI. -AUTUMN, WINTER, EASTER, AND DEPARTURE

 BOOK 5. XVII. -THE GYMNASIUM AND THE FIRST PERIOD OF UNIVERSITY LIFE XVIII. -THE TIME OF EFFERVESCENCE AND MY SCHOOLMATES XIX. -A ROMANCE WHICH REALLY HAPPENED XX. -AT THE QUEDLINBURG GYMNASIUM

 BOOK 6. XXI. -AT THE UNIVERSITY XXII. -THE SHIPWRECK XXIII. -THE HARDEST TIME IN THE SCHOOL OF LIFE XXIV. -THE APPRENTICESHIP XXV. -THE SUMMERS OF MY CONVALESCENCE XXVI. -CONTINUANCE OF CONVALESCENCE AND THE FIRST NOVEL

THE STORY OF MY LIFE. 

CHAPTER I. GLANCING BACKWARD. 

Though I was born in Berlin, it was also in the country. True, it wasfifty-five years ago; for my birthday was March 1, 1837, and at thattime the house--[No. 4 Thiergartenstrasse]--where I slept and playedduring the first years of my childhood possessed, besides a field anda meadow, an orchard and dense shrubbery, even a hill and a pond. Threebig horses, the property of the owner of our residence, stood in thestable, and the lowing of a cow, usually an unfamiliar sound to Berlinchildren, blended with my earliest recollections. 

The Thiergartenstrasse--along which in those days on sunny mornings, a throng of people on foot, on horseback, and in carriages constantlymoved to and fro--ran past the front of these spacious grounds, whoserear was bounded by a piece of water then called the "Schafgraben, " andwhich, spite of the duckweed that covered it with a dark-green networkof leafage, was used for boating in light skiffs. 

Now a strongly built wall of masonry lines the banks of this ditch, which has been transformed into a deep canal bordered by the handsomehouses of the Konigin Augustastrasse, and along which pass countlessheavily laden barges called by the Berliners "Zillen. "

The land where I played in my childhood has long been occupied bythe Matthaikirche, the pretty street which bears the same name, and aportion of Konigin Augustastrasse, but the house which we occupied andits larger neighbour are still surrounded by a fine garden. 

This was an Eden for city children, and my mother had chosen it becauseshe beheld it in imagination flowing with the true Garden of Paradiserivers of health and freedom for her little ones. 

My father died on the 14th of February, 1837, and on the 1st of March ofthe same year I was born, a fortnight after the death of the man in whommy mother was bereft of both husband and lover. So I am what is termed a"posthumous" child. This is certainly a sorrowful fate; but though therewere many hours, especially in the later years of my life, in whichI longed for a father, it often seemed to me a noble destiny and oneworthy of the deepest gratitude to have been appointed, from thefirst moment of my existence, to one of the happiest tasks, that ofconsolation and cheer. 

It was to soothe a mother's heartbreak that I came in the saddest hoursof her life, and, though my locks are now grey, I have not forgotten thejoyful moments in which that dear mother hugged her fatherless littleone, and among other pet names called him her "comfort child. "

She told me also that posthumous children were always Fortune'sfavorites, and in her wise, loving way strove to make me early familiarwith the thought that God always held in his special keeping thosechildren whose fathers he had taken before their birth. This confidenceaccompanied me through all my after life. 

As I have said, it was long before I became aware that I lackedanything, especially any blessing so great as a father's faithful loveand care; and when life showed to me also a stern face and imposed heavyburdens, my courage was strengthened by my happy confidence that I wasone of Fortune's favorites, as others are buoyed up by their firm faithin their "star. "

When the time at last came that I longed to express the emotions of mysoul in verse, I embodied my mother's prediction in the lines:

 The child who first beholds the light of day After his father's eyes are closed for aye, Fortune will guard from every threatening ill, For God himself a father's place will fill. 

People often told me that as the youngest, the nestling, I was mymother's "spoiled child"; but if anything spoiled me it certainly wasnot that. No child ever yet received too many tokens of love from asensible mother; and, thank Heaven, the word applied to mine. Fate hadsummoned her to be both father and mother to me and my four brothers andsisters-one little brother, her second child, had died in infancy--andshe proved equal to the task. Everything good which was and is ours weowe to her, and her influence over us all, and especially over me, whowas afterward permitted to live longest in close relations with her, was so great and so decisive, that strangers would only half understandthese stories of my childhood unless I gave a fuller description of her. 

These details are intended particularly for my children, my brothers andsisters, and the dear ones connected with our family by ties of bloodand friendship, but I see no reason for not making them also accessibleto wider circles. There has been no lack of requests from friends thatI should write them, and many of those who listen willingly when I tellromances will doubtless also be glad to learn something concerning thelife of the fabulist, who, however, in these records intends to silenceimagination and adhere rigidly to the motto of his later life, "To betruthful in love. "

My mother's likeness as a young woman accompanies these pages, and mustspare me the task of describing her appearance. It was copied from thelife-size portrait completed for the young husband by Schadow just priorto his appointment as head of the Dusseldorf Academy of Art, and now inthe possession of my brother, Dr. Martin Ebers of Berlin. Unfortunately, our copy lacks the colouring; and the dress of the original, which showsthe whole figure, confirms the experience of the error committed infaithfully reproducing the fashion of the day in portraits intendedfor future generations. It never fully satisfied me; for it veryinadequately reproduces what was especially precious to us in our motherand lent her so great a charm--her feminine grace, and the tenderness ofheart so winningly expressed in her soft blue eyes. 

No one could help pronouncing her beautiful; but to me she was at oncethe fairest and the best of women, and if I make the suffering Stephanusin Homo Sum say, "For every child his own mother is the best mother, "mine certainly was to me. My heart rejoiced when I perceived thatevery one shared this appreciation. At the time of my birth she wasthirty-five, and, as I have heard from many old acquaintances, in thefull glow of her beauty. 

My father had been one of the Berlin gentlemen to whose spirit ofself-sacrifice and taste for art the Konigstadt Theater owed itsprosperity, and was thus brought into intimate relations with Carl vonHoltei, who worked for its stage both as dramatist and actor. When, asa young professor, I told the grey-haired author in my mother's namesomething which could not fail to afford him pleasure, I received themost eager assent to my query whether he still remembered her. "How Ithank your admirable mother for inducing you to write!" ran the letter. "Only I must enter a protest against your first lines, suggesting thatI might have forgotten her. I forget the beautiful, gentle, clever, steadfast woman who (to quote Shakespeare's words) 'came adorned hitherlike sweet May, ' and, stricken by the hardest blows so soon after herentrance into her new life, gloriously endured every trial of fate tobecome the fairest bride, the noblest wife, most admirable widow, andmost faithful mother! No, my young unknown friend, I have far too muchwith which to reproach myself, have brought from the conflicts of achangeful life a lacerated heart, but I have never reached the pointwhere that heart ceased to cherish Fanny Ebers among the most sacredmemories of my chequered career. How often her loved image appearsbefore me when, in lonely twilight hours, I recall the past!"

Yes, Fate early afforded my mother an opportunity to test her character. The city where shortly before my birth she became a widow was not hernative place. My father had met her in Holland, when he was scarcelymore than a beardless youth. The letter informing his relatives thathe had determined not to give up the girl his heart had chosen was notregarded seriously in Berlin; but when the lover, with rare pertinacity, clung to his resolve, they began to feel anxious. The eldest son of oneof the richest families in the city, a youth of nineteen, wished to bindhimself for life--and to a foreigner--a total stranger. 

My mother often told us that her father, too, refused to listen to theyoung suitor, and how, during that time of conflict, while she was withher family at Scheveningen, a travelling carriage drawn by four horsesstopped one day before her parents' unpretending house. From this coachdescended the future mother-in-law. She had come to see the paragon ofwhom her son had written so enthusiastically, and to learn whether itwould be possible to yield to the youth's urgent desire to establish ahousehold of his own. And she did find it possible; for the girl's rarebeauty and grace speedily won the heart of the anxious woman who hadreally come to separate the lovers. True, they were required to wait afew years to test the sincerity of their affection. But it withstood theproof, and the young man, who had been sent to Bordeaux to acquire ina commercial house the ability to manage his father's banking business, did not hesitate an instant when his beautiful fiancee caught thesmallpox and wrote that her smooth face would probably be disfigured bythe malignant disease, but answered that what he loved was not only herbeauty but the purity and goodness of her tender heart. 

This had been a severe test, and it was to be rewarded: not the smallestscar remained to recall the illness. When my father at last made mymother his wife, the burgomaster of her native city told him that hegave to his keeping the pearl of Rotterdam. Post-horses took the youngcouple in the most magnificent weather to the distant Prussian capital. It must have been a delightful journey, but when the horses were changedin Potsdam the bride and groom received news that the latter's fatherwas dead. 

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

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

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

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

Such changes of outward circumstances are termed reverses of fortune, and the phrase is fitting, for by them life gains a new form. Yet realhappiness is more frequently increased than lessened, if only they donot entail anxiety concerning daily bread. My mother's position was farremoved from this point; but she possessed qualities which would haveundoubtedly enabled her, even in far more modest circumstances, toretain her cheerfulness and fight her way bravely with her childrenthrough life. 

The widow resolved that her sons should make their way by their ownindustry, like her brothers, who had almost all become able officialsin the Dutch colonial service. Besides, the change in her circumstancesbrought her into closer relations with persons with whom by inclinationand choice she became even more intimately associated than with themembers of my father's family--I mean the clique of scholars andgovernment officials amid whose circle her children grew up, and whom Ishall mention later. 

Our relatives, however, even after my father's death, showed the sameregard for my mother--who on her side was sincerely attached to many ofthem--and urged her to accept the hospitality of their homes. I, too, when a child, still more in later years, owe to the Beer family many ahappy hour. My father's cousin, Moritz von Oppenfeld, whose wife wasan Ebers, was also warmly attached to us. He lived in a house which heowned on the Pariser Platz, now occupied by the French embassy, and inwhose spacious apartments and elsewhere his kind heart and tender loveprepared countless pleasures for our young lives. 

CHAPTER II. MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD

My father died in Leipzigerstrasse, where, two weeks after, I was born. It is reported that I was an unusually sturdy, merry little fellow. Oneof my father's relatives, Frau Mosson, said that I actually laughedon the third day of my life, and several other proofs of my precociouscheerfulness were related by this lady. 

So I must believe that--less wise than Lessing's son, who looked at lifeand thought it would be more prudent to turn his back upon it--I greetedwith a laugh the existence which, amid beautiful days of sunshine, wasto bring me so many hours of suffering. 

Spring was close at hand; the house in noisy Leipzigerstrasse wasdistasteful to my mother, her soul longed for rest, and at that time sheformed the resolutions according to which she afterward strove to trainher boys to be able men. Her first object was to obtain pure air for thelittle children, and room for the larger ones to exercise. So she lookedfor a residence outside the gate, and succeeded in renting for a term ofyears No. 4 Thiergartenstrasse, which I have already mentioned. 

The owner, Frau Kommissionsrath Reichert, had also lost her husband ashort time before, and had determined to let the house, which stood nearher own, stand empty rather than rent it to a large family of children. 

Alone herself, she shrank from the noise of growing boys and girls. Butshe had a warm, kind heart, and--she told me this herself--the sight ofthe beautiful young mother in her deep mourning made her quickly forgether prejudice. "If she had brought ten bawlers instead of five, " sheremarked, "I would not have refused the house to that angel face. "

We all cherish a kindly memory of the vigorous, alert woman, withher round, bright countenance and laughing eyes. She soon became veryintimate with my mother, and my second sister, Paula, was her specialfavorite, on whom she lavished every indulgence. Her horses were thefirst ones on which I was lifted, and she often took us with her in thecarriage or sent us to ride in it. 

I still remember distinctly some parts of our garden, especiallythe shady avenue leading from our balcony on the ground floor to theSchafgraben, the pond, the beautiful flower-beds in front of FrauReichert's stately house, and the field of potatoes where I--thegardener was the huntsman--saw my first partridge shot. This wasprobably on the very spot where for many years the notes of the organhave pealed through the Matthaikirche, and the Word of God has beenexpounded to a congregation whose residences stand on the playground ofmy childhood. 

The house which sheltered us was only two stories high, but pretty andspacious. We needed abundant room, for, besides my mother, the fivechildren, and the female servants, accommodation was required for thegoverness, and a man who held a position midway between porter andbutler and deserved the title of factotum if any one ever did. His namewas Kurschner; he was a big-boned, square-built fellow about thirtyyears old, who always wore in his buttonhole the little ribbon of theorder he had gained as a soldier at the siege of Antwerp, and who hadbeen taken into the house by our mother for our protection, for inwinter our home, surrounded by its spacious grounds, was very lonely. 

As for us five children, first came my oldest sister Martha--now, alas!dead--the wife of Lieutenant-Colonel Baron Curt von Brandenstein, and mybrother Martin, who were seven and five years older than I. They were, of course, treated differently from us younger ones. 

Paula was my senior by three years; Ludwig, or Ludo--he was called byhis nickname all his life--by a year and a half. 

Paula, a fresh, pretty, bright, daring child, was often the leader inour games and undertakings. Ludo, who afterward became a soldier andas a Prussian officer did good service in the war, was a gentle boy, somewhat delicate in health--the broad-shouldered man shows no traceof it--and the best of playfellows. We were always together, and werefrequently mistaken for twins. We shared everything, and on my birthday, gifts were bestowed on him too; on his, upon me. 

Each had forgotten the first person singular of the personal pronoun, and not until comparatively late in life did I learn to use "I" and "me"in the place of "we" and "us. "

The sequence of events in this quiet country home has, of course, vanished from my mind, and perhaps many which I mention here occurredin Lennestrasse, where we moved later, but the memories of the time wespent in the Thiergarten overlooked by our second home--are among thebrightest of my life. How often the lofty trees and dense shrubberyof our own grounds and the beautiful Berlin Thiergarten rise before mymental vision, when my thoughts turn backward and I see merry childrenplaying among them, and hear their joyous laughter!

 FAIRY TALES AND FACT. 

What happened in the holy of holies, my mother's chamber, has remained, down to the smallest details, permanently engraved upon my soul. 

A mother's heart is like the sun--no matter how much light it diffuses, its warmth and brilliancy never lessen; and though so lavish a flood oftenderness was poured forth on me, the other children were no losers. But I was the youngest, the comforter, the nestling; and never was thefact of so much benefit to me as at that time. 

My parents' bed stood in the green room with the bright carpet. It hadbeen brought from Holland, and was far larger and wider than bedsteadsof the present day. My mother had kept it. A quilted silk coverlet wasspread over it, which felt exquisitely soft, and beneath which one couldrest delightfully. When the time for rising came, my mother called me. I climbed joyfully into her warm bed, and she drew her darling into herarms, played all sorts of pranks with him, and never did I listen tomore beautiful fairy tales than at those hours. They became instinctwith life to me, and have always remained so; for my mother gave themthe form of dramas, in which I was permitted to be an actor. 

The best one of all was Little Red Riding Hood. I played the little girlwho goes into the wood, and she was the wolf. When the wicked beasthad disguised itself in the grandmother's cap I not only asked theregulation questions: "Grandmother, what makes you have such big eyes?Grandmother, why is your skin so rough?" etc. , but invented new ones todefer the grand final effect, which followed the words, "Grandmother, why do you have such big, sharp teeth?" and the answer, "So that I caneat you, " whereupon the wolf sprang on me and devoured me--with kisses. 

Another time I was Snow-White and she the wicked step-mother, and alsothe hunter, the dwarf, and the handsome prince who married her. 

How real this merry sport made the distress of persecuted innocence, theterrors and charm of the forest, the joys and splendours of the fairyrealm! If the flowers in the garden had raised their voices in song, ifthe birds on the boughs had called and spoken to me--nay, if a treehad changed into a beautiful fairy, or the toad in the damp path of ourshaded avenue into a witch--it would have seemed only natural. 

It is a singular thing that actual events which happened in those earlydays have largely vanished from my memory; but the fairy tales I heardand secretly experienced became firmly impressed on my mind. Educationand life provided for my familiarity with reality in all its harshnessand angles, its strains and hurts; but who in later years could haveflung wide the gates of the kingdom where everything is beautiful andgood, and where ugliness is as surely doomed to destruction as evil topunishment? Even poesy in our times turns from the Castalian fount whosecrystal-clear water becomes an unclean pool and, though reluctantly, obeys the impulse to make its abode in the dust of reality. Therefore Iplead with voice and pen in behalf of fairy tales; therefore I tell themto my children and grandchildren, and have even written a volume of themmyself. 

How perverse and unjust it is to banish the fairy tale from the life ofthe child, because devotion to its charm might prove detrimental to thegrown person! Has not the former the same claim to consideration as thelatter?

Every child is entitled to expect a different treatment and judgment, and to receive what is his due undiminished. Therefore it is unjust toinjure and rob the child for the benefit of the man. Are we even surethat the boy is destined to attain the second and third stages--youthand manhood?

True, there are some apostles of caution who deny themselves every joyof existence while in their prime, in order, when their locks are grey, to possess wealth which frequently benefits only their heirs. 

All sensible mothers will doubtless, like ours, take care that theirchildren do not believe the stories which they tell them to be true. I do not remember any time when, if my mind had been called upon todecide, I should have thought that anything I invented myself had reallyhappened; but I know that we were often unable to distinguish whetherthe plausible tale related by some one else belonged to the realm offact or fiction. On such occasions we appealed to my mother, and heranswer instantly set all doubts at rest; for we thought she could neverbe mistaken, and knew that she always told the truth. 

As to the stories invented by myself, I fared like other imaginativechildren. I could imagine the most marvellous things about every memberof the household, and while telling them--but only during that time--Ioften fancied that they were true; yet the moment I was asked whetherthese things had actually occurred, it seemed as if I woke from adream. I at once separated what I had imagined from what I had actuallyexperienced, and it would never have occurred to me to persist againstmy better knowledge. So the vividly awakened power of imagination ledneither me, my brothers and sisters, nor my children and grandchildreninto falsehood. 

In after years I abhorred it, not only because my mother would ratherhave permitted any other offence to pass unpunished, but because I hadan opportunity of perceiving its ugliness very early in life. When onlyseven or eight years old I heard a boy--I still remember his name--tellhis mother a shameless lie about some prank in which I had shared. I didnot interrupt him to vindicate the truth, but I shrank in horror withthe feeling of having witnessed a crime. 

If Ludo and I, even in the most critical situations, adhered to thetruth more rigidly than other boys, we "little ones" owe it especiallyto our sister Paula, who was always a fanatic in its cause, and evennow endures many an annoyance because she scorns the trivial "necessaryfibs" deemed allowable by society. 

True, the interesting question of how far necessary fibs are justifiableamong children, is yet to be considered; but what did we know of suchnecessity in our sports in the Thiergarten? From what could a lie havesaved us except a blow from a beloved mother's little hand, which, it istrue, when any special misdeed was punished by a box on the ear, couldinflict a tolerable amount of pain by means of the rings which adornedit. 

There is a tradition that once when she had slapped Paula's pretty face, the odd child rubbed her cheek and said, with the droll calmness thatrarely deserted her, "When you want to strike me again, mother, pleasetake off your rings first. "

 THE GOVERNESS--THE CEMETERY. 

During the time we lived in the Thiergarten my mother's hand scarcelyever touched my face except in a caress. Every memory of her is brightand beautiful. I distinctly remember how merrily she jested and playedwith us, and from my earliest recollections her beloved face alwaysgreets me cheerily. Yet she had moved to the Thiergarten with a heartoppressed by the deepest sorrow. 

I know from the woman who accompanied her there as the governess of thetwo eldest children, and became a faithful friend, how deeply she neededconsolation, how completely her feelings harmonized with the widow'sweeds she wore, and in which she is said to have been so beautiful. 

The name of this rare woman was Bernhardine Kron. A native ofMecklenburg, she united to rich and wide culture the sterling character, warmth of feeling, and fidelity of this sturdy and sympathetic branch ofthe German nation. She soon became deeply attached to the young widow, to whose children she was to devote her best powers, and, in afteryears, her eyes often grew dim when she spoke of the time during whichshe shared our mother's grief and helped her in her work of education. 

Both liked to recall in later days the quiet evenings when, after therest of the household had retired, they read alone or discussed whatstirred their hearts. Each gave the other what she could. The Germangoverness went through our classic authors with her employer, and mymother read to her the works of Racine and Corneille, and urged her tospeak French and English with her; for, like many natives of Holland, her mastery of both languages was as thorough as if she had grown upin Paris or London. The necessity of studying and sharing her own richintellectual possessions continued to be a marked trait in my mother'scharacter until late in life, and how much cause for gratitude we allhave for the share she gave us of her own knowledge and experience!

Fraulein Kron always deeply appreciated the intellectual developmentshe owed to her employer, while the latter never forgot the comfort andsupport bestowed by the faithful governess in the most sorrowful days ofher life. When I first became conscious of my surroundings, these dayswere over; but in saying that my first recollections of my mother werebright and cheerful, I forgot the hours devoted to my father's memory. She rarely brought them to our notice; a certain chaste reserve, evenlater in life, prevented her showing her deepest grief to others. Shealways strove to cope with her sorest trials alone. Her sunny natureshrank from diffusing shadow and darkness around her. 

On the 14th of February, the anniversary of my father's death, wherevershe might be, she always withdrew from the members of the household, and even her own children. A second occasion of sharing her sorrowfulemotion was repeated several times every summer. This was the visit tothe cemetery, which she rarely made alone. 

The visits impressed us all strongly, and the one I first remember couldnot have occurred later than my fifth year, for I distinctly recollectthat Frau Rapp's horses took us to the churchyard. My father was buriedin the Dreifaltigkeitskirchhof, --[Trinity churchyard]--just outside theHalle Gate. I found it so little changed when I entered it again, twoyears ago, that I could walk without a guide directly to the Ebersfamily vault. But what a transformation had taken place in the way!

When we visited it with my mother, which was always in carriages, forit was a long distance from our home, we drove quickly through the city, the gate, and as far as the spot where I found the stately pile of thebrick Kreuzkirche; then we turned to the right, and if we had come incabs we children got out, it was so hard for the horses to drag thevehicles over the sandy road which led to the cemetery. 

During this walk we gathered blue cornflowers and scarlet poppies fromthe fields, bluebells, daisies, ranunculus, and snapdragon from thenarrow border of turf along the roadside, and tied them into bouquetsfor the graves. My mother moved silently with us between the rows ofgrassy mounds, tombstones, and crosses, while we carried the pots offlowers and wreaths, which, to afford every one the pleasure of helping, she had distributed among us at the gravedigger's house, just back ofthe cemetery. 

Our family burial place--my mother's stone cross now stands there besidemy father's--was one of those bounded in the rear by the church yardwall; a marble slab set in the masonry bears the owner's name. It islarge enough for us all, and lies at the right of the path betweenCount Kalckreuth's and the stately mausoleum which contains the earthlyremains of Moritz von Oppenfeld--who was by far the dearest of ourfather's relatives--and his family. 

My mother led the way into the small enclosure, which was surrounded byan iron railing, and prayed or thought silently of the beloved dead whorested there. 

Is there any way for us Protestants, when love for the dead longs tofind expression in action, except to adorn with flowers the places whichcontain their earthly remains? Their bright hues and a child's beamingface are the only cheerful things which a mourner whose wounds are stillbleeding freshly beside a coffin can endure to see, and I might compareflowers to the sound of bells. Both are in place and welcome in thesupreme moments of life. 

Therefore my mother, besides a heart full of love, always brought to myfather's grave children and flowers. When she had satisfied the needs ofher own soul, she turned to us, and with cheerful composure directed thedecoration of the mound. Then she spoke of our father, and if any of ushad recently incurred punishment--one instance of this kind is indeliblyimpressed on my memory--she passed her arms around the child, and inwhispered words, which no one else could hear, entreated the son ordaughter not to grieve her so again, but to remember the dead. Suchan admonition on this spot could not fail to produce its effect, andbrought forgiveness with it. 

On our return our hands and hearts were free again, and we wereat liberty to use our tongues. During these visits my interest inSchleiermacher was awakened, for his grave--he died in 1834, three yearsbefore I was born--lay near our lot, and we often stopped before thestone erected by his friends, grateful pupils, and admirers. It wasadorned with his likeness in marble; and my mother, who had frequentlymet him, pausing in front of it, told us about the keen-sightedtheologian, philosopher, and pulpit orator, whose teachings, as I was tolearn later, had exerted the most powerful influence upon my principalinstructors at Keilhau. She also knew his best enigmas; and thefollowing one, whose terse brevity is unsurpassed:

 "Parted I am sacred, United abominable"--

she had heard him propound himself. The answer, "Mein eid" (my oath), and "Meineid" (perjury), every one knows. 

Nothing was further from my mother's intention than to make thesevisits to the cemetery special memorial days; on the contrary, they wereinter-woven into our lives, not set at regular intervals or on certaindates, but when her heart prompted and the weather was favourable forout-of-door excursions. Therefore they became associated in our mindswith happy and sacred memories. 

CHAPTER III. ON FESTAL DAYS

The celebration of a memorial day by outward forms was one of mymother's customs; for, spite of her sincerity of feeling, she favouredexternal ceremonies, and tried when we were very young to awaken a senseof their meaning in our minds. 

On all festal occasions we children were freshly dressed from top totoe, and all of us, including the servants, had cakes at breakfast, andthe older ones wine at dinner. 

On the birthdays these cakes were surrounded by as many candles as wenumbered years, and provision was always made for a dainty arrangementof gifts. While we were young, my mother distinguished the "birthdaychild"--probably in accordance with some custom of her nativecountry--by a silk scarf. She liked to celebrate her own birthday, too, and ever since I can remember--it was on the 25th of July--we had apicnic at that time. 

We knew that it was a pleasure to her to see us at her table onthat day, and, up to the last years of her life, all whose vocationspermitted met at her house on the anniversary. 

She went to church on Sunday, and on Good Friday she insisted thatmy sisters as well as her self should wear black, not only during theservice, but throughout the rest of the day. 

Few children enjoyed a more beautiful Christmas than ours, for under thetree adorned with special love each found the desire of his or herheart gratified, while behind the family gift-table there always stoodanother, on which several poorer people whom I might call "clients" ofthe household, discovered presents which suited their needs. Among them, up to the time I went as a boy of eleven to Keilhau, I never failedto see my oldest sister's nurse with her worthy husband, the shoemakerGrossman, and their well-behaved children. She gladly permitted us toshare in the distribution of the alms liberally bestowed on the needy. The seeming paradox, "No one ever grew poor by giving, " I first heardfrom her lips, and she more than once found an opportunity to repeat it. 

We, however, never valued her gifts of money so highly as the troubleand inconveniences she cheerfully encountered to aid or add to thehappiness of others by means of the numerous relations formed in hersocial life and the influence gained mainly by her own gracious nature. Many who are now occupying influential positions owe their first startor have had the path smoothed for them by her kindness. 

As in many Berlin families, the Christmas Man came to us--an old mandisguised by a big beard and provided with a bag filled with nuts andbonbons and sometimes trifling gifts. He addressed us in a feignedvoice, saying that the Christ Child had sent him, but the dainties hehad were intended only for the good children who could recite some thingfor him. Of course, provision for doing this had been made. Everybodypressed forward, but the Christmas Man kept order, and only when eachhad repeated a little verse did he open the bag and distribute itscontents among us. 

Usually the Christmas Man brought a companion, who followed him in theguise of Knecht Ruprecht with his own bag of presents, and mingled withhis jests threats against naughty children. 

The carp served on Christmas eve in every Berlin family, after thedistribution of gifts, and which were never absent from my mother'stable, I have always had on my own in Jena, Leipsic, and Munich, orwherever the evening of December 24th might find us. On the whole, weremain faithful to the Christmas customs of my own home, which varylittle from those of the Germans in Riga, where my wife's family belong;nay, it is so hard for me to relinquish such childish habits, that, whenunable to procure a Christmas tree for the two "Eves" I spent on theNile, I decked a young palm and fastened candles on it. My mother'spermission that Knecht Ruprecht should visit us was contrary to herprinciple never to allow us to be frightened by images of horror. Nay, if she heard that the servants threatened us with the Black Man andother hobgoblins of Berlin nursery tales, she was always very angry. Thearguments by which my wife induced me to banish the Christmas Man andKnecht Ruprecht seem still more cogent, now that I think I understandthe hearts of children. It is certainly far more beautiful and justas easy-if we desire to utilize Christmas gifts for educationalpurposes--to stimulate children to goodness by telling them of thepleasure it will give the little Christ Child, rather than by fillingthem with dread of Knecht Ruprecht. 

True, my mother did not fail to endeavor to inspire us with love forthe Christ Child and the Saviour, and to draw us near to him. She saw inhim, above all else, the embodiment of love, and loved him because herloving heart understood his. In after years my own investigation andthought brought me to the same conviction which she had reached throughthe relation of her feminine nature to the person and teachings of herSaviour. I perceived that the world as Jesus Christ found it oweshim nothing grander, more beautiful, loftier, or more pregnant withimportance than that he widened the circle of love which embraced onlythe individual, the family, the city, or, at the utmost, the countryof which a person was a citizen, till it included all mankind, and thishuman love, of which my mother's life gave us practical proof, is thebanner under which all the genuine progress of mankind in later yearshas been made. 

Nineteen centuries have passed since the one that gave us Him who diedon the cross, and how far we are still from a perfect realization ofthis noblest of all the emotions of the heart and spirit! And yet, onthe day when this human love has full sway, the social problems whichnow disturb so many minds and will permit the brains of our bestcitizens to take no rest, will be solved. 

 OTHER OBLIGATIONS TO MY MOTHER, AND A SUMMARY OF THE NEW AND GREAT EVENTS WHICH BEFELL THE GERMANS DURING MY LIFE. 

I omit saying more of my mother's religious feelings and relations toGod, because I know that it would be contrary to her wishes to informstrangers of the glimpse she afterward afforded me of the inmost depthsof her soul. 

That, like every other mother, she clasped our little hands in prayer isa matter of course. I could not fall asleep until she had done thisand given me my good-night kiss. How often I have dreamed of her when, before going to some entertainment, she came in full evening dress tohear me repeat my little prayer and bid us good-bye!

But she also provided most carefully for the outward life; nay, perhaps she laid a little too much stress upon our manners in greetingstrangers, at table, and elsewhere. 

Among these forms I might number the fluent use of the French language, which my mother early bestowed upon us as if its acquisition was meresport-bestowed; for, unhappily, I know of no German grammar schoolwhere pupils can learn to speak French with facility; and how manynever-to-be-forgotten memories of travel, what great benefits during myperiod of study in Paris I owe to this capacity! We obtained it by thehelp of bonnes, who found it easier to speak French to us because ourmother always did the same in their presence. 

My mother considered it of the first importance to make us familiarwith French at a very early age, because, when she reached Berlin witha scanty knowledge of German, her mastery of French secured numerouspleasant things. She often told us how highly French was valued in thecapital, and we must believe that the language possesses an imperishablecharm for Germans when we remember that this was the case so shortlyafter the glorious uprising against the terrible despotism of France. True, French, in addition to its melody and ambiguity, possesses moresubtle turns and apt phrases than most other languages; and even themost German of Germans, our Bismarck, must recognize the fitness of itsphrases, because he likes to avail himself of them. He has a perfectknowledge of French, and I have noticed that, whenever he minglesit with German, the former has some sentence which enables him tocommunicate in better and briefer language whatever he may desire toexpress. What German form of speech, for instance, can convey the ideaof fulness which will permit no addition so well as the French popularsaying, "Full as an egg, " which pleased me in its native land, andwhich first greeted me in Germany as an expression used by the greatchancellor?

My mother's solicitude concerning good manners and perfectionin speaking French, which so easily renders children mere dolls, fortunately could not deprive us of our natural freshness and freedomfrom constraint. But if any peril to the character does lurk in beingunduly mindful of external forms, we three brothers were destined tospend a large portion of our boyhood amid surroundings which, asit were, led us back to Nature. Besides, even in Berlin we were notforbidden to play like genuine boys. We had no lack of playmates ofboth sexes, and with them we certainly talked and shouted no French, butsturdy Berlin German. 

In winter, too, we were permitted to enjoy ourselves out of doors, andfew boys made handsomer snow-men than those our worthy Kurschner--alwayswith the order in his buttonhole--helped us build in Thiergartenstrasse. 

In the house we were obliged to behave courteously, and when I recallthe appearance of things there I become vividly aware that no seriesof years witnessed more decisive changes in every department of life inGermany than those of my boyhood. The furnishing of the rooms differedlittle from that of the present day, except that the chairs and tableswere somewhat more angular and the cushions less comfortable. Instead ofthe little knobs of the electric bells, a so-called "bell-rope, " aboutthe width of one's hand, provided with a brass or metal handle, hungbeside the doors. 

The first introduction of gas into the city was made by an Englishcompany about ten years before my birth; but how many oil lamps I stillsaw burning, and in my school days the manufacturing city of Kottbus, which at that time contained about ten thousand inhabitants, was lightedby them! In my childhood gas was not used in the houses and theatres ofBerlin, and kerosene had not found its way to Germany. The rooms werelighted by oil lamps and candles, while the servants burned tallow-dips. The latter were also used in our nursery, and during the years which Ispent at school in Keilhau all our studying was done by them. 

Matches were not known. I still remember the tinder box in the kitchen, the steel, the flint, and the threads dipped in sulphur. The sparks madeby striking fell on the tinder and caught it on fire here and there. Soon after the long, rough lucifer matches appeared, which were dippedinto a little bottle filled, I believe, with asbestos wet with sulphuricacid. 

We never saw the gardener light his pipe except with flint, steel, and tinder. The gun he used had a firelock, and when he had put firstpowder, then a wad, then shot, and lastly another wad into the barrel, he was obliged to shake some powder into the pan, which was lighted bythe sparks from the flint striking the steel, if the rain did not makeit too damp. 

For writing we used exclusively goose-quills, for though steel pens wereinvented soon after I was born, they were probably very imperfect; and, moreover, had to combat a violent prejudice, for at the first school weattended we were strictly forbidden to use them. So the penknife playedan important part on every writing-desk, and it was impossible toimagine a good penman who did not possess skill in the art of shapingthe quills. 

What has been accomplished between 1837 and the present date in the wayof means of communication I need not recapitulate. I only know how longa time was required for a letter from my mother's brothers--one was aresident of Java and the other lived as "Opperhoofd" in Japan--to reachBerlin, and how often an opportunity was used, generally through thecourtesy of the Netherland embassy, for sending letters or littlegifts to Holland. A letter forwarded by express was the swiftest way ofreceiving or giving news; but there was the signal telegraph, whose armswe often saw moving up and down, but exclusively in the service of theGovernment. When, a few years ago, my mother was ill in Holland, areply to a telegram marked "urgent" was received in Leipsic in eighteenminutes. What would our grandparents have said to such a miracle?

We were soon to learn by experience the number of days required to reachmy mother's home from Berlin, for there was then no railroad to Holland. 

The remarkable changes wrought during my lifetime in the politicalaffairs of Germany I can merely indicate here. I was born in despoticPrussia, which was united to Austria and the German states and smallcountries by a loosely formed league. As guardians of this wretchedunity the various courts sent diplomats to Frankfort, who interruptedtheir careless mode of life only to sharpen distrust of other courts orsuppress some democratic movement. 

The Prussian nation first obtained in 1848 the liberties which had beensecured at an earlier date by the other German states, and nothing givesme more cause for gratitude than the boon of being permitted to see therealization and fulfilment of the dream of so many former generations, and my dismembered native land united into one grand, beautiful whole. Ideem it a great happiness to have been a contemporary of Emperor WilliamI, Bismarck, and Von Moltke, witnessed their great deeds as a man ofmature years, and shared the enthusiasm they evoked and which enabledthese men to make our German Fatherland the powerful, united empire itis to-day. 

The journey to Holland closes the first part of my childhood. I lookback upon it as a beautiful, unshadowed dream out of doors or in apleasant house where everybody loved me. But I could not single out theyears, months, or days of this retrospect. It is only a smooth streamwhich bears us easily along. There is no series of events, onlydisconnected images--a faithful dog, a picture on the wall, above allthe love and caresses of the mother lavished specially on me as theyoungest, and the most blissful of all sounds in the life of a Germanchild, the ringing of the little bell announcing that the Christmas treeis ready. 

Only in after days, when the world of fairyland and legend is leftbehind, does the child have any idea of consecutive events and humandestinies. The stories told by mother and grandmother about Snow-White, the Sleeping Beauty, the giants and the dwarfs, Cinderella, the stableat Bethlehem where the Christ-Child lay in the manger beside the oxenand asses, the angels who appeared to the shepherds singing "Glory toGod in the Highest, " the three kings and the star which led them to theChrist-Child, are firmly impressed on his memory. I don't know how youngI was when I saw the first picture of the kings in their purple robeskneeling before the babe in its mother's lap, but its forms and hueswere indelibly stamped upon my mental vision, and I never forgot itsmeaning. True, I had no special thoughts concerning it; nay, I scarcelywondered to see kings in the dust before a child, and now, when I hearthe summons of the purest and noblest of Beings, "Suffer little childrento come unto me, " and understand the sacred simplicity of a child'sheart, it no longer awakens surprise. 

CHAPTER IV. THE JOURNEY TO HOLLAND TO ATTEND THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

The rattle of wheels and the blast of the postilion's horn closed thefirst period of my childhood. When I was four years old we went to mymother's home to attend my grandparents' golden wedding. If I wished todescribe the journey in its regular order I should be forced to dependupon the statements of others. So little of all which grown peopledeem worth seeing and noting in Belgium, Holland, and on the Rhine hasremained in my memory, that I cannot help smiling when I hear peoplesay that they intend to take children travelling for their amusement andinstruction. In our case we were put in the carriage because my motherwould not leave us behind, and wanted to give our grandparents pleasureby our presence. She was right, but in spite of my inborn love of travelthe month we spent on the journey seemed a period of very uncomfortablerestlessness. A child realizes only a single detail of beauty--a flower, a radiant star, a human face. Any individual recollection of the journeyto Holland, aside from what has been told me, is getting into thetravelling carriage, a little green leather Bajazzo dressed in red andwhite given to me by a relative, and the box of candies bestowed to takeon the trip by a friend of my mother. 

Of our reception in the Belgian capital at the house of Adolphe Jones, the husband of my aunt Henriette, a sister of my mother, I retain manyrecollections. 

Our pleasant host was a painter of animals, whom I afterward saw sharinghis friend Verboeckhoven's studio, and whose flocks of sheep were veryhighly praised. At that time his studio was in his own house, and itseems as if I could still hear the call in my aunt's shrill voice, repeated countless times a day, "Adolphe!" and the answer, followingpromptly in the deepest bass tones, "Henriette!" This singular freak, which greatly amused us, was due, as I learned afterward, to my aunt'sjealousy, which almost bordered on insanity. 

In later years I learned to know him as a jovial artist, who in the daysof his youth very possibly might have given the strait-laced ladycause for anxiety. Even when his locks were white he was ready forany pleasure; but he devoted himself earnestly to art, and I am underobligation to him for being the means of my mother's possessing thefriendship of the animal painter, Verboeckhoven, and that greatest ofmore modern Belgian artists, Louis Gallait and his family, in whosesociety and home I have passed many delightful hours. 

In recalling our arrival at the Jones house I first see the merry, smiling face--somewhat faunlike in its expression--of my six-foot uncle, and the plump figure of his wonderfully good and when undisturbed byjealousy--no less cheery wife. There was something specially winning andlovable about her, and I have heard that this lady, my mother's oldestsister, possessed in her youth the same dazzling beauty. At the famousball in Brussels this so captivated the Duke of Wellington that heoffered her his arm to escort her back to her seat. My mother alsoremembered the Napoleonic days, and I thought she had been speciallyfavoured in seeing this great man when he entered Rotterdam, and alsoGoethe. 

I remember my grandfather as a stately old gentleman. He, as well asthe other members of the family, called me Georg Krullebol, which meanscurly-head, to distinguish me from a cousin called Georg von Gent. Ialso remember that when, on the morning of December 5th, St. Nicholasday, we children took our shoes to put on, we found them, to ourdelight, stuffed with gifts; and lastly that on Christmas Eve the treewhich had been prepared for us in a room on the ground floor attractedsuch a crowd of curious spectators in front of the Jones house that wewere obliged to close the shutters. Of my grandparents' day of honor Iremember nothing except a large room filled with people, and the minutesduring which I repeated my little verse. I can still see myself in ashort pink skirt, with a wreath of roses on my fair curls, wings on myshoulders, a quiver on my back, and a bow in my hand, standing beforethe mirror very much pleased with my appearance. Our governess hadcomposed little Cupid's speech, my mother had drilled me thoroughlyin it, so I do not remember a moment of anxiety and embarrassment, butmerely that it afforded me the purest, deepest pleasure to be permittedto do something. 

I must have behaved with the utmost ease before the spectators, many ofwhom I knew, for I can still hear the loud applause which greeted me, and see myself passed from one to another till I fled from the kissesand pet names of grandparents, aunts, and cousins to my mother's lap. Of the bride and groom of this golden wedding I remember only thatmy grandfather wore short trousers called 'escarpins' and stockingsreaching to the knee. My grandmother, spite of her sixty-six years--shemarried before she was seventeen--was said to look remarkably pretty. Later I often saw the heavy white silk dress strewn with tiny bouquetswhich she wore as a bride and again remodelled at her silver wedding;for after her death it was left to my mother. Modern wedding gownsare not treasured so long. I have often wondered why I recollect mygrandfather so distinctly and my grandmother so dimly. I have a clearidea of her personal appearance, but this I believe I owe much more toher portrait which hung in my mother's room beside her husband's, and isnow one of my own most cherished possessions. Bradley, one of the bestEnglish portrait painters, executed it, and all connoisseurs pronounceit a masterpiece. 

This festival lives in my memory like the fresh spring morning of aday whose noon is darkened by clouds, and which ends in a heavythunderstorm. 

Black clouds had gathered over the house adorned with garlands andflowers, echoing for days with the gay conversations, jests, andcongratulations of the relatives united after long separation and themirth of children and grandchildren. Not a loud word was permitted tobe uttered. We felt that something terrible was impending, and peoplecalled it grandfather's illness. Never had I seen my mother's sunny faceso anxious and sad. She rarely came to us, and when she did for a shorttime her thoughts were far away, for she was nursing her father. 

Then the day which had been dreaded came. Wherever we looked the womenwere weeping and the eyes of the men were reddened by tears. My mother, pale and sorrowful, told us that our dear grandfather was dead. 

Children cannot understand the terrible solemnity of death. This isa gift bestowed by their guardian angels, that no gloomy shadows maydarken the sunny brightness of their souls. 

I saw only that cheerful faces were changed to sad ones, that thefigures about us moved silently in sable robes and scarcely noticedus. On the tables in the nursery, where our holiday garments were made, black clothes were being cut for us also, and I remember having mymourning dress fitted. I was pleased because it was a new one. I triedto manufacture a suit for my Berlin Jack-in-the-box from the scraps thatfell from the dressmaker's table. Nothing amuses a child so much as toimitate what older people are doing. We were forbidden to laugh, butafter a few days our mother no longer checked our mirth. Of our stayat Scheveningen I recollect nothing except that the paths in the littlegarden of the house we occupied were strewn with shells. We dug a bighole in the sand on the downs, but I retained no remembrance of the seaand its majesty, and when I beheld it in later years it seemed as ifI were greeting for the first time the eternal Thalassa which was tobecome so dear and familiar to me. 

My grandmother, I learned, passed away scarcely a year after the deathof her faithful companion, at the home of her son, a lawyer in TheHague. 

Two incidents of the journey back are vividly impressed on my mind. Wewent by steamer up the Rhine, and stopped at Ehrenbreitstein to visitold Frau Mendelssohn, our guardian's mother, at her estate of Horchheim. The carriage had been sent for us, and on the drive the spirited horsesran away and would have dashed into the Rhine had not my brotherMartin, at that time eleven years old, who was sitting on the box by thecoachman, saved us. 

The other incident is of a less serious nature. I had seen many a salmonin the kitchen, and resolved to fish for one from the steamer; so I tieda bit of candy to a string and dropped it from the deck. The fish wereso wanting in taste as to disdain the sweet bait, but my early awakenedlove of sport kept me patiently a long time in the same spot, which wasundoubtedly more agreeable to my mother than the bait was to the salmon. As, protected by the guards, and probably watched by the governess andmy brothers and sisters, I devoted myself to this amusement, my motherwent down into the cabin to rest. Suddenly there was a loud uproar onthe ship. People shouted and screamed, everybody rushed on deck andlooked into the river. Whether I, too, heard the fall and saw thelife-boat manned I don't remember; but I recollect all the more clearlymy mother's rushing frantically from the cabin and clasping me tenderlyto her heart as her rescued child. So the drama ended happily, but therehad been a terrible scene. 

Among the steamer's passengers was a crazy Englishman who was beingtaken, under the charge of a keeper, to an insane asylum. While mymother was asleep the lunatic succeeded in eluding this man's vigilanceand plunged into the river. Of course, there was a tumult on board, andmy mother heard cries of "Fallen into the river!"

"Save!" "He'll drown!" Maternal anxiety instantly applied them to thechild-angler, and she darted up the cabin stairs. I need not describethe state of mind in which she reached the deck, and her emotion whenshe found her nestling in his place, still holding the line in his hand. 

As the luckless son of Albion was rescued unharmed, we could look backupon the incident gaily, but neither of us forgot this anxiety--thefirst I was to cause my mother. 

I have forgotten everything else that happened on our way home; but whenI think of this first journey, a long one for so young a child, andthe many little trips--usually to Dresden, where my grandmother Eberslived--which I was permitted to take, I wonder whether they inspired thelove of travel which moved me so strongly later, or whether it was aninborn instinct. If a popular superstition is correct, I was predestinedto journey. No less a personage than Friedrich Froebel, the founder ofthe kindergarten system, called my attention to it; for when I met himfor the first time in the Institute at Keilhau, he seized my curly hair, bent my head back, gazed at me with his kind yet penetrating eyes, andsaid: "You will wander far through the world, my boy; your teeth arewide apart. "

CHAPTER V. LENNESTRASSE. --LENNE. --EARLY IMPRESSIONS. 

Lennestrasse is the scene of the period of my life which began with myreturn from Holland. If, coming from the Brandenburg Gate, you followthe Thiergarten and pass the superb statue of Goethe, you will reach acorner formed by two blocks of houses. The one on the left, oppositeto the city wall, now called Koniggratz, was then known asSchulgartenstrasse. The other, on the right, whose windows overlookedthe Thiergarten, bore the name in my childhood of Lennestrasse, which itowed to Lenne, the park superintendent, a man of great talent, butwho lives in my memory only as a particularly jovial old gentleman. He occupied No. 1, and was one of my mother's friends. Next to PrincePackler, he may certainly be regarded as one of the most inventive andtasteful landscape gardeners of his time. He transformed the gardens ofSans-Souci and the Pfaueninsel at Potsdam, and laid out the magnificentpark on Babelsberg for Emperor William I, when he was only "Prince ofPrussia. " The magnificent Zoological Garden in Berlin is also his work;but he prided himself most on rendering the Thiergarten a "lung" forthe people, and, spite of many obstacles, materially enlarging it. Every moment of the tireless man's time was claimed, and besides KingFrederick William IV, who himself uttered many a tolerably good joke, found much pleasure in the society of the gay, clever Rhinelander, whom he often summoned to dine with him at Potsdam. Lenne undoubtedlyappreciated this honour, yet I remember the doleful tone in which hesometimes greeted my mother with, "Called to court again!"

Like every one who loves Nature and flowers, he was fond of children. Wecalled him "Uncle Lenne, " and often walked down our street hand in handwith him. 

It is well known that the part of the city on the other side of thePotsdam Gate was called the "Geheimerath-Quarter. " Our street, it istrue, lay nearer to the Brandenburg Gate, yet it really belonged tothat section; for there was not a single house without at least oneGeheimerath (Privy Councillor). 

Yet this superabundance of men in "secret" positions lent no touchof mystery to our cheerful street, shaded by the green of the forest. Franker, gayer, sometimes noisier children than its residents could notbe found in Berlin. I was only a little fellow when we lived there, andmerely tolerated in the "big boys'" sports, but it was a festival when, with Ludo, I could carry their provisions for them or even help themmake fireworks. The old Rechnungsrath, who lived in the house ownedby Geheimerath Crede, the father of my Leipsic colleague, was theirinstructor in this art, which was to prove disastrous to my oldestbrother and bright Paul Seiffart; for--may they pardon me thetreachery--they took one of the fireworks to school, where--I hopeaccidentally--it went off. At first this caused much amusement, butstrict judgment followed, and led to my mother's resolution to send heroldest son away from home to some educational institution. 

The well-known teacher, Adolph Diesterweg, whose acquaintance she hadmade at the house of a friend, recommended Keilhau, and so our littleband was deprived of the leader to whom Ludo and I had looked up witha certain degree of reverence on account of his superior strength, hisbold spirit of enterprise, and his kindly condescension to us youngerones. 

After his departure the house was much quieter, but we did notforget him; his letters from Keilhau were read aloud to us, and hisdescriptions of the merry school days, the pedestrian tours, andsleigh-rides awakened an ardent longing in Ludo and myself to followhim. 

Yet it was so delightful with my mother, the sun around which our littlelives revolved! I had no thought, performed no act, without wonderingwhat would be her opinion of it; and this intimate relation, though inan altered form, continued until her death. In looking backward I mayregard it as a law of my whole development that my conduct was regulatedaccording to the more or less close mental and outward connection inwhich I stood with her. The storm and stress period, during which myeffervescent youthful spirits led me into all sorts of follies, was theonly time in my life in which this close connection threatened to beloosened. Yet Fate provided that it should soon be welded more firmlythan ever. When she died, a beloved wife stood by my side, but she waspart of myself; and in my mother Fate seemed to have robbed me of thesupreme arbitrator, the high court of justice, which alone could judgemy acts. 

In Lennestrasse it was still she who waked me, prepared us to go toschool, took us to walk, and--how could I ever forget it?--gathered usaround her "when the lamps were lighted, " to read aloud or tell us somestory. But nobody was allowed to be perfectly idle. While my sisterssewed, I sketched; and, as Ludo found no pleasure in that, she sometimeshad him cut figures out; sometimes--an odd fancy--execute a masterpieceof crocheting, which usually shared the fate of Penelope's web. 

We listened with glowing cheeks to Robinson Crusoe and the ArabianNights, Gulliver's Travels and Don Quixote, both arranged for children, the pretty, stories of Nieritz and others, descriptions of Nature andtravel, and Grimm's fairy tales. 

On other winter evenings my mother--this will surprise many in the caseof so sensible a woman--took us to the theatre. Two of our relatives, Frau Amalie Beer and our beloved Moritz von Oppenfeld, subscribed forboxes in the opera-house, and when they did not use them, which oftenhappened, sent us the key. 

So as a boy I heard most of the operas produced at that time, and Isaw the ballets, of which Frederick William IV was especially fond, andwhich Taglioni understood how to arrange so admirably. 

Of course, to us children the comic "Robert and Bertram, " by LudwigSchneider, and similar plays, were far more delightful than the grandoperas; yet even now I wonder that Don Giovanni's scene with the statueand the conspiracy in the Huguenots stirred me, when a boy of nine orten, so deeply, and that, though possessing barely the average amount ofmusical talent, Orpheus's yearning cry, "Eurydice!" rang in my ears solong. 

That these frequently repeated pleasures were harmful to us childrenI willingly admit. And yet--when in after years I was told that Isucceeded admirably in describing large bodies of men seized by somestrong excitement, and that my novels did not lack dramatic movementor their scenes vividness, and, where it was requisite, splendour--Iperhaps owe this to the superb pictures, interwoven with thrillingbursts of melody, which impressed themselves upon my soul when a child. 

Fortunately, the outdoor life at Keilhau counteracted the perils whichmight have arisen from attending theatrical performances too young. WhatI beheld there, in field and forest, enabled me in after life, when Idesired a background for my stories, not to paint stage scenes, but takeNature herself for a model. 

I must also record another influence which had its share in my creativetoil--my early intercourse with artists and the opportunity of seeingtheir work. 

The statement has been made often enough, but I should like to repeatit here from my own experience, that the most numerous and best impulseswhich urge the author to artistic development come from his childhood. This law, which results from observing the life and works of thegreatest writers, has shown itself very distinctly in a minor one likemyself. 

There was certainly no lack of varied stimulus during this early periodof my existence; but when I look back upon it, I become vividly aware ofthe serious perils which threaten not only the external but the internaldevelopment of the children who grow up in large cities. 

Careful watching can guard them from the transgressions to which thereare many temptations, but not from the strong and varying impressionswhich life is constantly forcing upon them. They are thrust too earlyfrom the paradise of childhood into the arena of life. There are manythings to be seen which enrich the imagination, but where could theyoung heart find the calmness it needs? The sighing of the wind sweepingover the cornfields and stirring the tree-tops in the forest, thesinging of the birds in the boughs, the chirping of the cricket, thevesper-bells summoning the world to rest, all the voices which, in thecountry, invite to meditation and finally to the formation of a world ofone's own, are silenced by the noise of the capital. So it happensthat the latter produces active, practical men, and, under favorablecircumstances, great scholars, but few artists and poets. If, nevertheless, the capitals are the centers where the poets, artists, sculptors, and architects of the country gather, there is a good reasonfor it. But I can make no further digression. The sapling requiresdifferent soil and care from the tree. I am grateful to my mother forremoving us in time from the unrest of Berlin life. 

 FIRST STUDIES. --MY SISTERS AND THEIR FRIENDS. 

My mother told me I was never really taught to read. Ludo, who was ayear and a half older, was instructed in the art. I sat by playing, andone day took up Speckter's Fables and read a few words. Trial was thenmade of my capability, and, finding that I only needed practice to beable to read things I did not know already by heart, my brother and Iwere thenceforth taught together. 

At first the governess had charge of us, afterward we were sent to alittle school kept by Herr Liebe in the neighbouring Schulgarten(now Koniggratz) Strasse. It was attended almost entirely by childrenbelonging to the circle of our acquaintances, and the master was apleasant little man of middle age, who let us do more digging in hisgarden and playing or singing than actual study. 

His only child, a pretty little girl named Clara, was taught with us, and I believe I have Herr Liebe to thank for learning to write. Insummer he took us on long walks, frequently to the country seat of HerrKorte, who stood high in the estimation of farmers. 

From such excursions, which were followed by others made with the sonand tutor of a family among our circle of friends, we always brought ourmother great bunches of flowers, and often beautiful stories, too; forthe tutor, Candidate Woltmann, was an excellent story-teller, and Iearly felt a desire to share with those whom I loved whatever charmedme. 

It was from this man, who was as fond of the beautiful as he was ofchildren, that I first heard the names of the Greek heroes; and Iremember that, after returning from one of these walks, I begged mymother to give us Schwab's Tales of Classic Antiquity, which wasowned by one of our companions. We received it on Ludo's birthday, inSeptember, and how we listened when it was read to us--how often weourselves devoured its delightful contents!

I think the story of the Trojan War made a deeper impression upon methan even the Arabian Nights. Homer's heroes seemed like giant oaks, which far overtopped the little trees of the human wood. They toweredlike glorious snow mountains above the little hills with which mychildish imagination was already filled; and how often we played theTrojan War, and aspired to the honor of acting Hector, Achilles, orAjax!

Of Herr Liebe, our teacher, I remember only three things. On hisdaughter's birthday he treated us to cake and wine, and we had to singa festal song composed by himself, the refrain of which changed everyyear:

 "Clara, with her fair hair thick, Clara, with her eyes like heaven, Can no more be called a chick, For to-day she's really seven. "

I remember, too, how when she was eight years old we had to transposethe words a little to make the measure right. Karl von Holtei had amore difficult task when, after the death of the Emperor Francis (KaiserFranz), he had to fit the name of his successor, Ferdinand, into thebeautiful "Gotterhalte Franz den Kaiser, " but he got cleverly out of theaffair by making it "Gott erhalte Ferdinandum. "--[God save the EmperorFrancis. ]

My second recollection is, that we assisted Herr Liebe, who was achurchwarden and had the honour of taking up the collection, to sortthe money, and how it delighted us to hear him scold--with good reason, too--when we found among the silver and copper pieces--as, alas!we almost always did--counters and buttons from various articles ofclothing. 

In the third place, I must accuse Herr Liebe of having paid very littleattention to our behaviour out of school. Had he kept his eyes open, wemight have been spared many a bruise and our garments many a rent; for, as often as we could manage it, instead of going directly home from theSchulgartenstrasse, we passed through the Potsdam Gate to the squarebeyond. There lurked the enemy, and we sought them out. The enemy werethe pupils of a humbler grade of school who called us Privy Councillor'syoungsters, which most of us were; and we called them, in return, 'Knoten, ' which in its original meaning was anything but an insult, coming as it does by a natural philological process from "Genote, " theolder form of "Genosse" or comrade. 

But to accuse us of arrogance on this account would be doing us wrong. Children don't fight regularly with those whom they despise. Our"Knoten" was only a smart answer to their "Geheimrathsjoren. " If theyhad called us boobies we should probably have called them blockheads, orsomething of that sort. 

This troop, which was not over-well-dressed even before the beginning ofthe conflict, was led by some boys whose father kept a so-called flowercellar--that is, a basement shop for plants, wreaths, etc. --at the headof Leipzigerstrasse. They often sought us out, but when they did not weenticed them from their cellar by a particular sort of call, and assoon as they appeared we all slipped into some courtyard, where a battlespeedily raged, in which our school knapsacks served as weapons ofoffence and defence. When I got into a passion I was as wild as afighting cock, and even quiet Ludo could deal hard blows; and I cansay the same of most of the "Geheimrathsjoren" and "Knoten. " It was notoften that any decided success attended the fight, for the janitor orsome inhabitant of the house usually interfered and brought it all to anuntimely end. I remember still how a fat woman, probably a cook, seizedme by the collar and pushed me out into the street, crying: "Fie! fie!such young gentlemen ought to be ashamed of themselves. "

Hegel, however, whose influence at that time was still great in thelearned circles of Berlin, had called shame "anger against what isnatural, " and we liked what was natural. So the battles with the"Knoten" were continued until the Berlin revolution called forth moreserious struggles, and our mother sent us away to Keilhau. 

Our sisters went to school also, a school kept by Fraulein Sollmann inthe Dorotheenstrasse. And yet we had a tutor, I do not really knowwhy. Whether our mother had heard of the fights, and recognized theimpossibility of following us about everywhere, or whether the candidatewas to teach us the rudiments of Latin after we went to the Schmidtschool in the Leipziger Platz, at the beginning of my tenth year, Ineglected to inquire. 

The Easter holidays always brought Brother Martin home. Then he told usabout Keilhau, and we longed to accompany him there; and yet we had somany good schoolmates and friends at home, such spacious playgrounds andbeautiful toys! I recall with especial pleasure the army of tin soldierswith which we fought battles, and the brass cannon that mowed downtheir ranks. We could build castles and cathedrals with our blocks, and cooking was a pleasure, too, when our sisters allowed us to act asscullions and waiters in white aprons and caps. 

Martha, the eldest, was already a grown young lady, but so sweet andkind that we never feared a rebuff from her; and her friends, too, likedus little ones. 

Martha's contemporaries formed a peculiarly charming circle. There wasthe beautiful Emma Baeyer, the daughter of General Baeyer, who afterwardconducted the measuring of the meridian for central Europe; pretty, lively Anna Bisting; and Gretchen Bugler, a handsome, merry girl, who afterward married Paul Heyse and died young; Clara and AgnesMitscherlich, the daughters of the celebrated chemist, the younger ofwhom was especially dear to my childish heart. Gustel Grimm, too, thedaughter of Wilhelm Grimm, was often at our house. The queen of myheart, however, was the sister of our playmate, Max Geppert, and at thistime the most intimate friend of my sister Paula. The two took dancinglessons together, and there was no greater joy than when the lesson wasat our house, for then the young ladies occasionally did us the favourof dancing with us, to Herr Guichard's tiny violin. 

Warm as was my love for the beautiful Annchen, my adored one came neargetting a cold from it, for, rogue that I was, I hid her overshoesduring the lesson on one rainy Saturday evening, that I might have thepleasure of taking them to her the next morning. 

She looked at that time like the woman with whom I celebrated my silverwedding two years ago, and certainly belonged to the same femininegenre, which I value and place as high above all others as Simonides vonAmorgos preferred the beelike woman to every other of her sex: I meanthe kind whose womanliness and gentle charm touch the heart before oneever thinks of intellect or beauty. 

Our mother smiled at these affairs, and her daughters, as girls, gaveher no great trouble in guarding their not too impressionable hearts. 

There was only one boy for whom Paula showed a preference, and that waspretty blond Paul, our Martin's friend, comrade, and contemporary, theson of our neighbour, the Privy-Councillor Seiffart; and we lived a gooddeal together, for his mother and ours were bosom friends, and our housewas as open to him as his to us. 

Paul was born on the same November day as my sister, though severalyears earlier, and their common birthday was celebrated, while we werelittle, by a puppet-show at the neighbour's, conducted by some masterin the business, on a pretty little stage in the great hall at theSeiffarts' residence. 

I have never forgotten those performances, and laugh now when I thinkof the knight who shouted to his servant Kasperle, "Fear my thread!"(Zwirn), when what he intended to say was, "Fear my anger!" (Zorn). Orof that same Kasperle, when he gave his wife a tremendous drubbing witha stake, and then inquired, "Want another ounce of unburned wood-ashes, my darling?"

Paula was very fond of these farces. She was, however, from a childrather a singular young creature, who did not by any means enjoy all theamusements of her age. When grown, it was often with difficulty thatour mother persuaded her to attend a ball, while Martha's eyes sparkledjoyously when there was a dance in prospect; and yet the tall andslender Paula looked extremely pretty in a ball dress. 

Gay and active, indeed bold as a boy sometimes, so that she would leadin taking the rather dangerous leap from a balcony of our high groundfloor into the garden, clever, and full of droll fancies, she dwelt muchin her own thoughts. Several volumes of her journal came to me after ourmother's death, and it is odd enough to find the thirteen-year-old girlconfessing that she likes no worldly pleasures, and yet, being a verytruthful child, she was only expressing a perfectly sincere feeling. 

It was touching to read in the same confessions: "I was in a dreamymood, and they said I must be longing for something--Paul, no doubt. Idid not dispute it, for I really was longing for some one, though it wasnot a boy, but our dead father. " And Paula was only three years old whenhe left us!

No one would have thought, who saw her delight when there were fireworksin the Seiffarts' garden, or when in our own, with her curls and hergown flying, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes flashing, she played withall her heart at "catch" or "robber and princess, " or, all animationand interest, conducted a performance of our puppet-show, that she wouldsometimes shun all noisy pleasure, that she longed with enthusiasticpiety for the Sunday churchgoing, and could plunge into meditation onsubjects that usually lie far from childish thoughts and feelings. 

Yet who would fancy her thoughtless when she wrote in her journal: "Fie, Paula! You have taken no trouble. Mother had a right to expect a betterreport. However, to be happy, one must forget what cannot be altered. "

In reality, she was not in the least "featherheaded. " Her life provedthat, and it is apparent, too, in the words I found on another page ofher journal, at thirteen: "Mother and Martha are at the Drakes; I willlearn my hymn, and then read in the Bible about the sufferings of Jesus. Oh, what anguish that must have been! And I? What do I do that isgood, in making others happy or consoling their trouble? This must bedifferent, Paula! I will begin a new life. Mother always says we arehappy when we deny self in order to do good. Ah, if we always could! ButI will try; for He did, though He might have escaped, for our sins andto make us happy. "

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CHAPTER VI. MY INTRODUCTION TO ART, AND ACQUAINTANCES GREAT AND SMALL INTHE LENNESTRASSE. 

The Drakes mentioned in my sister's journal are the family of thesculptor, to whom Berlin and many another German city owe such splendidworks of art. 

He was also one of our neighbours, and a warm friendship bound him andhis young wife to my mother. He was kind to us children, too, and hadus in his studio, which was connected with the house like the other andlarger one in the Thiergarten. He even gave us a bit of clay to shape. Ihave often watched him at work for hours, chattering to him, but happierstill to listen while he told us of his childhood when he was apoor boy. He exhorted us to be thankful that we were better off, butgenerally added that he would not exchange for anything in the worldthose days when he went barefoot. His bright, clear artist's eyessparkled as he spoke, and it must indeed have been a glorioussatisfaction to have conquered the greatest hindrances by his own might, and to have raised himself to the highest pinnacle of life--that of art. I had a dim impression of this when he talked to us, and now I considerevery one enviable who has only himself to thank for all he is, likeDrake, his friend in art Ritschl, and my dear friend Josef Popf, inRome, all three laurel-crowned masters in the art of sculpture. 

In Drake's studio I saw statues, busts, and reliefs grow out of the rudemass of clay; I saw the plaster cast turned into marble, and the master, with his sure hand, evoking splendid forms from the primary limestone. What I could not understand, the calm, kindly man explained withunfailing patience, and so I got an early insight into the sculptor'screative art. 

It was these recollections of my childhood that suggested to me thecharacter of little Pennu in Uarda, of Polykarp in Homo Sum, of Polluxin The Emperor, and the cheery Alexander in Per Aspera. 

I often visited also, during my last years in Berlin, the studio ofanother sculptor. His name was Streichenberg, and his workshop was inour garden in the Linkstrasse. 

If a thoughtful earnestness was the rule in Drake's studio, in that ofProf. Streichenberg artistic gaiety reigned. He often whistled or sangat his work, and his young Italian assistant played the guitar. Butwhile I still know exactly what Drake executed in our presence, so thatI could draw the separate groups of the charming relief, the Genii ofthe Thiergarten, I do not remember a single stroke of Streichenberg'swork, though I can recall all the better the gay manner of the artistwhom we again met in 1848 as a demagogue. 

At the Schmidt school Franz and Paul Meyerheim were among our comrades, and how full of admiration I was when one of them--Franz, I think, whowas then ten or eleven years old--showed us a hussar he had paintedhimself in oil on a piece of canvas! The brothers took us to their home, and there I saw at his work their kindly father, the creator of so manycharming pictures of country and child life. 

There was also a member of the artist family of the Begas, Adalbert, who was one of our contemporaries and playmates, some of whose beautifulportraits I saw afterward, but whom, to my regret, I never met again. 

Most memorable of all were our meetings with Peter Cornelius, who alsolived in the Lennestrasse. When I think of him it always seems as ifhe were looking me in the face. Whoever once gazed into his eyes couldnever forget them. He was a little man, with waxen-pale, and almostharsh, though well-formed features, and smooth, long, coal-black hair. He might scarcely have been noticed save for his eyes, which overpoweredall else, as the sunlight puts out starlight. Those eyes would havedrawn attention to him anywhere. His peculiar seriousness and hisaristocratic reserve of manner were calculated to keep children at adistance, even to repel them, and we avoided the stern little man whomwe had heard belonged to the greatest of the great. When he and hisamiable wife became acquainted with our mother, however, and he calledus to him, it is indescribable how his harsh features softened in theintercourse with us little ones, till they assumed an expression ofthe utmost benevolence, and with what penetrating, I might say fatherlykindness, he talked and even jested with us in his impressive way. Ihad the best of it, for my blond curly head struck him as usable in somework of his, and my mother readily consented to my being his model. SoI had to keep still several hours day after day, though I confess, tomy shame, that I remember nothing about the sittings except having eatensome particularly good candied fruit. 

Even now I smile at the recollection of his making an angel or a spiritof peace out of the wild boy who perhaps just before had been scufflingwith the enemy from the flower-cellar. 

There was another celebrated inhabitant of the Lennestrasse whoseconnection with us was still closer than that of Peter Cornelius. It wasthe councillor of consistory and court chaplain Strauss, who lived atNo. 3. 

Two men more unlike than he and his great artist-neighbour can hardly beimagined, though their cradles were not far apart, for the painter wasborn in Dusseldorf, and the clergyman at Iserlohn, in Westphalia. 

Cornelius appears to me like a peculiarly delicate type of the Latinrace, while Strauss might be called a prototype of the sturdy LowerSaxons. Broad-shouldered, stout, ruddy, with small but kindly blue eyes, and a resonant bass voice suited to fill great spaces, he was always athis ease and made others easy. He had a touch of the assured yet finedignity of a well-placed and well-educated Catholic prelate, thoughcombined with the warlike spirit of a Protestant. 

Looking more closely at his healthy face, it revealed not onlybenevolent amiability but superior sense and plain traces of that cheeryelasticity of soul which gave him such power over the hearts of thelistening congregation, and the disposition and mind of the king. 

His religious views I do not accept, but I believe his strictly orthodoxbelief was based upon conviction, and cannot be charged to any odiousdisplay of piety to ingratiate himself with the king. It was in the timeof our boyhood that Alexander von Humboldt, going once with the kingto church, in Potsdam, in answer to the sneering question how he, whopassed for a freethinker at court, could go to the house of God, madethe apt reply, "In order to get on, your Excellency. "

When Strauss met us in the street and called to us with a certainunction in his melodious voice, "Good-morning, my dear children inChrist!" our hearts went out to him, and it seemed as if we had receiveda blessing. He and his son Otto used to call me "Marcus Aurelius, " onaccount of my curly blond head; and how often did he put his strong handinto my thick locks to draw me toward him!

Strauss was in the counsels of the king, Frederick William IV, and atimportant moments exercised an influence on his political decisions. Yetthat somewhat eccentric prince could not resist his inclination to makecheap jokes at Strauss's expense. After creating him court-chaplain, hesaid to Alexander von Humboldt: "A trick in natural history whichyou cannot copy! I have turned an ostrich (Strauss) into a bullfinch(Dompfaffer)"--in allusion to Strauss's being a preacher at thecathedral (Dom). 

Fritz, the worthy man's eldest son, came to see me in Leipsic. Ourstudies in the department of biblical geography had led us to differentconclusions, but our scientific views were constantly intermingled withrecollections of the Lennestrasse. 

But better than he, who was much older, do I remember his brother Otto, then a bright, amiable young man, and his mother, who was from the Rhinecountry, a warm-hearted, kindly woman of aristocratic bearing. 

Our mother had a very high opinion of the court chaplain, who hadchristened us all and afterward confirmed my sisters, and officiatedat Martha's marriage. But, much as she appreciated him as a friendand counsellor, she could not accept his strict theology. Though shereceived the communion at his hands, with my sisters, she preferredthe sermons of the regimental chaplain, Bollert, and later those ofthe excellent Sydow. I well remember her grief when Bollert, whose freeinterpretation of Scripture had aroused displeasure at court, was sentto Potsdam. 

I find an amusing echo of the effect of this measure in Paula's journal, and it would have been almost impossible for a growing girl of activemind to take no note of opinions which she heard everywhere expressed. 

Our entire circle was loyal; especially Privy-Councillor Seiffart, oneof our most intimate friends, a sarcastic Conservative, who was creditedwith the expresssion, "The limited intellect of subjects, " which, however, belonged to his superior, Minister von Rochow. Still, almostall my mother's acquaintances, and the younger ones without exception, felt a desire for better political conditions and a constitution for thebrave, loyal, reflecting, and well-educated Prussian people. In thesame house with us lived two men who had suffered for their politicalconvictions--the brothers Grimm. They had been ejected from their chairsamong the seven professors of Gottingen, who were sacrificed to thearbitrary humour of King Ernst August of Hanover. 

Their dignified figures are among the noblest and most memorablerecollections of the Lennestrasse. They were, it might be said, oneperson, for they were seldom seen apart; yet each had preserved his owndistinct individuality. 

If ever the external appearance of distinguished men corresponded withthe idea formed of them from their deeds and works, it was so in theircase. One did not need to know them to perceive at the first glancethat they were labourers in the department of intellectual life, thoughwhether as scientists or poets even a practised observer would havefound it difficult to determine. Their long, flowing, wavy hair, and anatmosphere of ideality which enveloped them both, might have inclinedone to the latter supposition; while the form of their brows, indicatingdeep thought and severe mental labor, and their slightly stoopingshoulders, would have suggested the former. Wilhelm's milder featureswere really those of a poet, while Jakob's sterner cast of countenance, and his piercing eyes, indicated more naturally a searcher afterknowledge. 

But just as certainly as that they both belonged to the strongestchampions of German science, the Muse had kissed them in their cradle. Not only their manner of restoring our German legends, but almost alltheir writings, give evidence of a poetical mode of viewing things, and of an intuition peculiar to the spirit of poetry. Many of theirwritings, too, are full of poetical beauties. 

That both were men in the fullest meaning of the word was revealed atthe first glance. They proved it when, to stand by their convictions, they put themselves and their families at the mercy of a problematicalfuture; and when, in advanced years, they undertook the gigantic work ofcompiling so large and profound a German dictionary. Jakob looked as ifnothing could bend him; Wilhelm as if, though equally strong, he mightyield out of love. 

And what a fascinating, I might almost say childlike, amiability wasunited to manliness in both characters! Yes, theirs was indeed thatsublime simplicity which genius has in common with the children whomthe Saviour called to him. It spoke from the eyes whose gaze wasso searching, and echoed in their language which so easily mastereddifficult things, though when they condescended to play with theirchildren and with us, and jested so naively, we were half tempted tothink ourselves the wiser. 

But we knew with what intellectual giants we had to do; no one hadneeded to tell us that, at least; and when they called me to them I feltas if the king himself had honoured me. 

Only Wilhelm was married, and his wife had hardly her equal for sunnyand simple kindness of heart. A pleasanter, more motherly, sweetermatron I never met. 

Hermann, who won good rank as a poet, and was one of the very foremostof our aesthetics, was much older than we. The tall young man, who oftenwalked as if he were absorbed in thought, seemed to us a peculiar andunapproachable person. His younger brother, Rudolf, on the other hand, was a cheery fellow, whose beauty and brightness charmed me unspeakably. When he came along with elastic tread as if he were challenging life toa conflict, and I saw him spring up the stairs three steps at a time, I was delighted, and I knew that my mother was very fond of him. It wasjust the same with "Gustel, " his sister, who was as amiable and kindlyas her mother. 

I can still see the torchlight procession with which the Berlin studentshonoured the beloved and respected brothers, and which we watched fromthe Grimms' windows because they were higher than ours. But there isa yet brighter light of fire in my memory. It was shed by the burningopera house. Our mother, who liked to have us participate in anythingremarkable which might be a recollection for life, took us out of ourbeds to the next house, where the Seiffarts lived, and which had alittle tower on it. Thence we gazed in admiration at the ever-deepeningglow of the sky, toward which great tongues of flame kept streaming up, while across the dusk shot formless masses like radiant spark-showeringbirds. Pillars of smoke mingled with the clouds, and the metallic noteof the fire-bells calling for help accompanied the grand spectacle. Iwas only six years old, but I remember distinctly that when Ludo and Iwere taken to the Lutz swimming-baths next day, we found first on thedrill-ground, then on the bank of the Spree, and in the water, charredpieces, large and small, of the side-scenes of the theatre. They werethe glowing birds whose flight I had watched from the tower of the Credehouse. 

This remark reminds me how early our mother provided for our physicaldevelopment, for I clearly remember that the tutor who took us littlefellows to the bath called our attention to these bits of decorationwhile we were swimming. When I went to Keilhau, at eleven years old, Ihad mastered the art completely. 

I did, in fact, many things at an earlier age than is customary, becauseI was always associated with my brother, who was a year and a halfolder. 

We were early taught to skate, too, and how many happy hours we passed, frequently with our sisters, on the ice by the Louisa and RousseauIslands in the Thiergarten! The first ladies who at that timedistinguished themselves as skaters were the wife and daughter of thecelebrated surgeon Dieffenbach--two fine, supple figures, who movedgracefully over the ice, and in their fur-bordered jackets and Polishcaps trimmed with sable excited universal admiration. 

On the whole, we had time enough for such things, though we lost many afree hour in music lessons. Ludo was learning to play on the piano, butI had chosen another instrument. Among our best friends, the three finesons of Privy-Councillor Oesterreich and others, there was a pleasantboy named Victor Rubens, whose parents were likewise friends of mymother. In the hospitable house of this agreeable family I had heard thecomposer Vieuxtemps play the violin when I was nine years old. I wenthome fairly enraptured, and begged my mother to let me take lessons. My wish was fulfilled, and for many years I exerted myself zealously, without any result, to accomplish something on the violin. I did, indeed, attain to a certain degree of skill, but I was so littlesatisfied with my own performances that I one day renounced the hope ofbecoming a practical musician, and presented my handsome violin--agift from my grandmother--to a talented young virtuoso, the son of mysisters' French teacher. 

The actress Crelinger, when she came to see my mother, made a greatimpression on me, at this time, by her majestic appearance and herdeep, musical voice. She, and her daughter, Clara Stich, afterward FrauLiedtcke, the splendid singer, Frau Jachmann-Wagner, and the charmingFrau Schlegel-Koster, were the only members of the theatrical professionwho were included among the Gepperts' friends, and whose acquaintance wemade in consequence. 

Frau Crelinger's husband was a highly respected jurist and councillor ofjustice, but among all the councillors' wives by whom she was surroundedI never heard her make use of her husband's title. She was simply "Frau"in society, and for the public Crelinger. She knew her name had animportance of its own. Even though posterity twines no wreaths foractors, it is done in the grateful memory of survivors. I shall neverforget the ennobling and elevating hours I afterward owed to that greatand noble interpreter of character. 

I am also indebted to Frau Jachmann-Wagner for much enjoyment both inopera and the drama. She now renders meritorious service by fitting onthe soundest artistic principles--younger singers for the stage. 

Among my mother's papers was a humorous note announcing the arrival of afriend from Oranienburg, and signed:

 "Your faithful old dog, Runge, Who was born in a quiet way At Neustadt, I've heard say. "

He came not once, but several times. He bore the title of professor, wasa chemist, and I learned from friends versed in that science that it wasindebted to him for interesting discoveries. 

He had been an acquaintance of my father, and no one who met him, bubbling over with animation and lively wit, could easily forget him. Hehad a full face and long, straight, dark hair hanging on his short neck, while intellect and kindness beamed from his twinkling eyes. When hetossed me up and laughed, I laughed too, and it seemed as if all Naturemust laugh with us. 

I have not met so strong and original a character for many a long year, and I was very glad to read in the autobiography of Wackernagel thatwhen it went ill with him in Berlin, Hoffman von Fallersleben and thissame Runge invited him to Breslau to share their poverty, which was sogreat that they often did not know at night where they should get thenext day's bread. 

How many other names with and without the title of privy-councilloroccur to me, but I must not allow myself to think of them. 

Fraulein Lamperi, however, must have a place here. She used to dine withus at least once a week, and was among the most faithful adherents ofour family. She had been governess to my father and his only sister, and later was in the service of the Princess of Prussia, afterward theEmpress Augusta, as waiting-woman. 

She, too, was one of those original characters whom we never find now. 

She was so clever that, incredible as it sounds, she made herself a wigand some false teeth, and yet she came of a race whose women were notaccustomed to serve themselves with their own hands; for the blood ofthe venerable and aristocratic Altoviti family of Florence flowed in herveins. Her father came into the world as a marquis of that name, but wasdisinherited when, against the will of his family, he married the dancerLamperi. With her he went first to Warsaw, and then to Berlin, where hesupported himself and his children by giving lessons in the languages. One daughter was a prominent member of the Berlin ballet, the other wasprepared by a most careful education to be a governess. She gave variouslessons to my sisters, and criticised our proceedings sharply, as shedid those of her fellow-creatures in general. "I can't help it--I Mustsay what I think, " was the palliating remark which followed every severecensure; and I owe to her the conviction that it is much easier toexpress disapproval, when it can be done with impunity, than to keep itto one's self, as I am also indebted to her for the subject of my fairytale, The Elixir. 

I shall return to Fraulein Lamperi, for her connection with ourfamily did not cease until her death, and she lived to be ninety. Heraristocratic connections in Florence--be it said to their honour--neverrepudiated her, but visited her when they came to Berlin, and theequipage of the Italian ambassador followed at her funeral, for he, too, belonged to her father's kindred. The extreme kindness extended to herby Emperor William I and his sovereign spouse solaced her old age invarious ways. 

One of the dearest friends of my sister Paula and of our family knewmore of me, unfortunately, at this time than I of her. Her name wasBabette Meyer, now Countess Palckreuth. She lived in our neighbourhood, and was a charming, graceful child, but not one of our acquaintances. 

When she was grown up--we were good friends then--she told me she wascoming from school one winter day, and some boys threw snowballs at her. Then Ludo and I appeared--"the Ebers boys" and she thought that would bethe end of her; but instead of attacking her we fell upon the boys, whoturned upon us, and drove them away, she escaping betwixt Scylla andCharybdis. 

Before this praiseworthy deed we had, however, thrown snow at a younglady in wanton mischief. I forgive our heedlessness as we were forgiven, but it is really a painful thought to me that we should have snowballeda poor insane man, well known in the Thiergarten and Lennestrasse, andwho seriously imagined that he was made of glass. 

I began to relate this, thinking of our uproarious laughter when thepoor fellow cried out: "Let me alone! I shall break! Don't you hear meclink?" Then I stopped, for my heart aches when I reflect what terribledistress our thoughtlessness caused the unfortunate creature. We werenot bad-hearted children, and yet it occurred to none of us to putourselves in the place of the whimpering man and think what he suffered. But we could not do it. A child is naturally egotistical, and unable insuch a case to distinguish between what is amusing and what is sad. Had the cry, "It hurts me!" once fallen from the trembling lips of the"glass man, " I think we should have thrown nothing more at him. 

But our young hearts did not, under all circumstances, allow what amusedus to cast kinder feelings into the shade. The "man of glass" hada feminine 'pendant' in the "crazy Frau Councillor with the velvetenvelope. " This was a name she herself had given to a threadbarelittle velvet cloak, when some naughty boys--were we among them?--weresnowballing her, and she besought us not to injure her velvet envelope. But when there was ice on the ground and one of the boys was tryingto get her on to a slide, Ludo and I interfered and prevented it. Naturally, there was a good fight in consequence, but I am glad of it tothis day. 

CHAPTER VII. WHAT A BERLIN CHILD ENJOYED ON THE SPREE AND AT HISGRANDMOTHER'S IN DRESDEN. 

In the summer we were all frequently taken to the new Zoological Garden, where we were especially delighted with the drollery of the monkeys. Even then I felt a certain pity for the deer and does in confinement, and for the wild beasts in their cages, and this so grew upon me thatmany a visit to a zoological garden has been spoiled by it. Once inKeilhau I caught a fawn in the wood and was delighted with my beautifulprize. I meant to bring it up with our rabbits, and had already carriedit quite a distance, when suddenly I began to be sorry for it, andthought how its mother would grieve, upon which I took it back to thespot where I had found it and returned to the institution as fast as Icould, but said nothing at first about my "stupidity, " for I was ashamedof it. 

Excursions into the country were the most delightful pleasures of thesummer. The shorter ones took us to the suburbs of the capital, andsometimes to Charlottenburg, where several of our acquaintances lived, and our guardian, Alexander Mendelssohn, had a country house with abeautiful garden, where there was never any lack of the owner's childrenand grandchildren for playmates. Sometimes we were allowed to go therewith other boys. We then had a few Groschen to get something at arestaurant, and were generally brought home in a Kremser carriage. Thesecarriages were to be found in a long row by the wall outside of theBrandenburg Gate or at the Palace in Charlottenburg or by the "Turkishtent"--for at that time there were no omnibuses running to the decidedlyrural neighbouring city. Even when the carriages were arranged tocarry ten or twelve persons there was but one horse, and it was theseRosinantes which probably gave rise to the following rhyme:

 "A Spandau wind, A child of Berlin, A Charlottenburg horse, Are all not worth a pin. "

The Berlin children were, on the whole, better than their reputation, but not so the Charlottenburg horses. The Kremser carriages were namedfrom the man who owned most of them. The business was carried on by anassociation. A single individual rarely hired one; either a family tookpossession of it, or you got in and waited patiently till enough personshad collected for the driver to think it worth while to take his whipand say, "Well, get up!"

But this same Herr Kremser also had nice carriages for excursions intothe country, drawn by two or four horses, as might be required. For thefour-horse Kremser chariots there was even a driver in jockey costume, who rode the saddle-horse. 

Other excursions took us to the beautiful Humboldt's Tegel, to theMuggel and Schlachten Lakes, to Franzosisch Buchholz, Treptow, andStralau. We were, unfortunately, never allowed to attend the celebratedfishing festival at Stralau. 

But the crowning expedition of all was on our mother's birthday, either to the Pichelsbergen, wooded hills mirrored in ponds where fishabounded, or to the Pfaueninsel at Potsdam. 

The country around Berlin is considered hopelessly ugly, but with greatinjustice. I have convinced myself since that I do not look back asfondly on the Pichelsbergen and the Havelufer at Potsdam, where it wasgranted us to pass such happy hours in the springtime of life, becausethe force of imagination has clothed them with fancied charms. No, theseplaces have indeed a singularly peaceful attractiveness, and if I preferthem, as a child of the century, to real mountains, there was a timewhen the artist's eye would have given them the preference over thegrand landscapes of the Alpine world. 

At the beginning of the last century the latter were consideredrepelling. They oppressed the soul by their immensity. No painter thenundertook to depict giant mountains with eternal snow upon summits whichtowered above the clouds. A Salvator Rosa or Poussin, or even the greatRuysdael, would have preferred to set up his easel at the Pichelsbergenor in the country about Potsdam, rather than at the foot of Mont Blanc, the Kunigssee, or the Eibsee, in which the rocks of the Zugspitze--myvis-a-vis at Tutzingen--are magnificently reflected. 

There is nothing more beautiful than the moderate, finely roundedheights at these peaceful spots rich in vegetation and in water, whengilded by the fading light of a lovely summer evening or illumined bythe rosy tinge of the afterglow. Many of our later German paintershave learned to value the charm of such a subject, while of our writersFontane has seized and very happily rendered all their witchery. Atmy brother Ludo's manorhouse on the banks of the Dahme, at his placeDolgenbrodt, in Mark Brandenburg, Fontane experienced all the attractionof the plain, which I have never felt more deeply than in that very spotand on a certain evening at Potsdam when the bells of the little churchof Sakrow seemed to bid farewell to the sinking sun and invite him toreturn. 

In the East I have seen the day-star set more brilliantly, but nevermet with a more harmonious and lovely splendour of colour than on summerevenings in the Mark, except in Holland on the shore of the North Sea. 

Can I ever forget those festal days when, after saying our littlecongratulatory verses to our mother, and admiring her birthday table, which her friends always loaded with flowers, we awaited the carriagesthat were to take us into the country? Besides a great excursion wagon, there were generally some other coaches which conveyed us and thefamilies of our nearest friends on our jaunt. 

How the young faces beamed, and how happy the old ones looked, andwhat big baskets there were full of good things beside the coachman andbehind the carriage!

We were soon out of the city, and the birds by the wayside could nothave twittered and sung in May more gaily than we during these drives. 

Once we let the horses rest, and took luncheon at Stimming near theWannsee, where Heinrich von Kleist with the beloved of his heart putan end to his sad life. Before we stopped we met a troop of travellingjourneymen, and our mother, in the gratitude of her heart, threw them athaler, and said "Drink to my happiness; to-day is my birthday. "

When we had rested and gone on quite a distance we found the journeymenranged beside the road, and as they threw into the carriage an immensebouquet of field flowers which they had gathered, one of them exclaimed:"Long live the birthday-child! And health and happiness to thebeautiful, kind lady!" The others, and we, too, joined with all ourmight in a "Hurrah!"

We felt like pagan Romans, who on starting out had perceived thehappiest omens in earth and sky. 

And at the Pfaueninsel!

Frau Friedrich, the wife of the man in charge of the fountains, kept aneat inn, in which, however, she by no means dished up to all personswhat they would like. But our mother knew her through Lenne, by whom herhusband was employed, and she took good care of us. How attractive to uschildren was the choice yet large collection she possessed! Most of themembers of the royal house had often been her guests, and had increasedit to a little museum which contained countless milk and cream jugs ofevery sort and metal, even the most precious, and of porcelain and glassof every age. Many would have been rare and welcome ornaments to anytrades-museum. Our mother had contributed a remarkably handsome Japanesejug which her brother had sent her. 

After the banquet we young ones ran races, while the older people restedtill coffee and punch were served. Whether dancing was allowed at thePfaueninsel I no longer remember, but at the Pichelsbergen it certainlywas, and there were even three musicians to play. 

And how delightful it was in the wood; how pleasant the rowing on thewater, during which, when the joy of existence was at its height, thesaddest songs were sung! Oh, I could relate a hundred things of thosebirthdays in the country, but I have completely forgotten how wegot home. I only know that we waked the next morning full of happyrecollections. 

In the summer holidays we often took journeys--generally to Dresden, where our father's mother with her daughter, our aunt Sophie, had goneto live, the latter having married Baron Adolf von Brandenstein, anofficer in the Saxon Guard, who, after laying aside the bearskin capand red coat, the becoming uniform of that time, was at the head of theDresden post office. 

I remember these visits with pleasure, and the days when our grandmotherand aunt came to Berlin. I was fond of both of them, especially mylively aunt, who was always ready for a joke, and my affection wasreturned. But these, our nearest relatives, in early childhood onlypassed through our lives like brilliant meteors; the visits we exchangedlasted only a few days; and when they came to Berlin, in spite of mymother's pressing invitations, they never stayed at our house, but ina hotel. I cannot imagine, either, that our grandmother would ever haveconsented to visit any one. There was a peculiar exclusiveness abouther, I might almost say a cool reserve, which, although proofs ofher cordial love were not wanting, prevented her from caressing us orplaying with us as grandmothers do. She belonged to another age, andour mother taught us, when greeting her, to kiss her little white hand, which was always covered up to the fingers with waving lace, and totreat her with the utmost deference. There was an air of aristocraticquiet in her surroundings which caused a feeling of constraint. Ican still see the suite of spacious rooms she occupied, where silencereigned except when Coco, the parrot, raised his shrill voice. Hercompanion, Fraulein Raffius, always lowered her voice in her presence, though when out of it she could play with us very merrily. The elderlyservant, who, singularly enough, was of noble family--his real name wasVon Wurmkessel--did his duty as noiselessly as a shadow. Then there wasa faint perfume of mignonette in most of the rooms, which makes me thinkof them whenever I see the pretty flower, for, as is well known, smellis the most powerful of all the senses in awakening memory. 

I never sat in my grandmother's lap. When we wished to talk with herwe had to sit beside her; and if we kept still she would question ussearchingly about everything--our play, our friends, our school. 

This silence, which always struck us children at first withastonishment, was interrupted very gaily by our aunt, whose livelinessbroke in upon it like the sound of a horn amid the stillness of aforest. Her cheerful voice was audible even in the hall, and when shecrossed the threshold we flew to her, and the spell was broken. For she, the only daughter, put no restraint on herself in the reserved presenceof her mother. She kissed her boisterously, asked how she was, as ifshe were the mother, the other the child. Indeed, she took the libertysometimes of calling the old lady "Henrietta"--that was her name--oreven "Hetty. " Then, when grandmother pointed to us and exclaimedreproachfully, "Why, Sophie!" our aunt could always disarm her with gayjests. 

Though the two were generally at a distance, their existence made itselffelt again and again either through letters or presents or by theircoming to Berlin, which always brought holidays for us. 

These journeys were accomplished under difficulties. Our aunt had alwaysused an open carriage, and was really convinced that she would stifle ina closed railway compartment. But as she would not forego the benefitof rapid transit, our grandmother was obliged, even after her daughter'smarriage, to hire an open truck for her, on which, with her faithfulmaid Minna, and one of her dogs, or sometimes with her husband ora friend as a companion, she established herself comfortably in anarmchair of her own, with various other conveniences about her. Therailway officials knew her, and no doubt shrugged their shoulders, butthe warmheartedness shining in her eyes and her unvarying cheerfulnesscarried everything before them, so that her eccentricity was readilyoverlooked. And she had plenty of similar caprices. I was visiting heronce in the Christmas holidays, when I was a schoolboy in the upperclass, and we had retired for the night. At one o'clock my aunt suddenlyappeared at my bedside, waked me, and told me to get up. The first snowhad fallen, and she had had the horses harnessed for us to go sleighing, which she particularly enjoyed. 

Resistance was useless, and the swift flight over the snow by moonlightproved to be very enjoyable. Between four and five o'clock in themorning we were at home again. 

Winter brought many other amusements. I remember with particularpleasure the Christmas fair, which now, as I learn to my regret, is nolonger held. And yet, what a source of delight it once was to children!What rich food it offered to their minds! The Christmas trees andpyramids at the Stechbahn, the various wares, the gingerbread and toysin the booths, offered by no means the greatest charm. A still strongerattraction were the boys with the humming "baboons, " the rattles andflags, for from them purchases had always to be made, with jokes throwninto the bargain--bad ones, which are invariably the most amusing; andwhat a pleasure it was to twirl the "baboon" with one's own little hand, and, if the hand got cold during the process, one did not feel it, forit seemed like midsummer with a swarm of flies buzzing about one!

But most enjoyable of all was probably the throng of people, great andsmall, and all there was to hear and see among them and to answer. Itseemed as if the Christmas joy of the city was concentrated there, andfilled the not over-clear atmosphere like the pungent odour of Christmastrees. 

Put there were other things to experience as well as mere gaiety--thepale child in the corner, with its little bare feet, holding in itscold, red hands the six little sheep of snow-white wool on a tiny greenboard; and that other yonder, with the little man made of prunes spittedon tiny sticks. 

How small and pale the child is! And how eloquently the blue eyes invitea purchaser, for it is only with looks that the wares are extolled! Istill see them both before me! The threepenny pieces they get are tohelp their starving mother to heat the attic room in those winter dayswhich, cold though they are, may warm the heart. Looking at them ourmother told us how hunger hurts, and how painful want and misery are tobear, and we never left the Christmas fair without buying a few sheepor a prune man, though all we could do with them was to give them awayagain. When I wrote my fairy-tale, The Nuts, I had the Christmas fairat Berlin in my mind's eye, and I seemed to see the wretched littlegirl who, among all the happy folk, had found nothing but cold, pain, anguish, and a handful of nuts, and who afterward fared so happily--not, indeed, among men, but with the most beautiful angels in heaven. 

Why are the Berlin children defrauded of this bright and innocentpleasure, and their hearts denied the practice of exercising charity?

Turning my thoughts backward, it seems to me as if almost too muchbeauty and pleasure were crowded together at Christmas, richly providedwith presents as we were besides, for over and above the Christmas fairthere was Kroll's Christmas exhibition, where clever heads and skilfulhands transformed a series of great halls, at one time into the domainof winter, at another into the kingdom of the fairies. There was nothingto do but look. 

Imagination came to a standstill, for what could it add to thesewonders? Yet the fairyland of which Ludo and I had dreamed was morebeautiful and more real than this palpable magnificence of tinand pasteboard; which is, perhaps, one reason why the overexcitedimagination of a city child shrinks back and tries to find in realitywhat a boy brought up in the quiet of the country can conjure up beforehis mind himself. 

Then, too, there were delightful sights in the Gropius panorama andFuchs's confectioner's shop--in the one place entertaining things, inthe other instructive. At the panorama half the world was spread outbefore us in splendid pictures, so presented and exhibited as to givethe most vivid impression of reality. 

From the letters of our mother's brothers, who were Dutch officials inJava and Japan, as well as from books of travel which had been read tous, we had already heard much of the wonders of the Orient; and at theGropius panorama the inner call that I had often seemed to hear--"Away!to the East"--only grew the stronger. It has never been wholly silentsince, but at that time I formed the resolution to sail around theworld, or--probably from reading some book--to be a noble pirate. Norshould I have been dissatisfied with the fate of Robinson Crusoe. The Christmas exhibition at Fuchs's, Unter den Linden, was merelyentertaining--Berlin jokes in pictures mainly of a political orsatirical order. Most distinctly of all I remember the sentimental ladyof rank who orders her servant to catch a fly on a tea-tray and putit carefully out of the window. The obedient Thomas gets hold of theinsect, takes it to the window, and with the remark, "Your ladyship, itis pouring, the poor thing might take cold, " brings it back again to thetea-tray. 

There was plenty of such entertainment in winter, and we had our partin much of it. Rellstab, the well-known editor of Voss's journal, madea clever collection of such jokes in his Christmas Wanderings. We couldread, and whatever was offered by that literary St. Nicholas and highlyrespected musical critic for cultivated Berlin our mother was quitewilling we should enjoy. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD BEFORE THE REVOLUTION

On the 18th of March, the day of the fighting in the streets of Berlin, we had been living for a year in the large suite of apartments at No. 7Linkstrasse. 

Of those who inhabited the same house with us I remember only thesculptor Streichenberg, whose studio was next to our pretty garden, andthe Beyers, a married couple. He, later a general and commander of thetroops besieging Strasburg in 1870, was at that time a first lieutenant. She was a refined, extremely amiable, and very musical woman, who hadmet our mother before, and now entered into the friendliest relationswith her. 

A guest of their quiet household, a little Danish girl, one of FranBeyer's relatives, shared our play in the garden, and worked with usat the flower beds which had been placed in our charge. I remember howperfectly charming I thought her, and that her name was Detta Lvsenor. 

All the details of our intercourse with her and other new acquaintanceswho played with us in the garden have vanished from my memory, for theoccurrences of that time are thrown into shadow by the public events andpolitical excitement around us. Even children could not remain untouchedby what was impending, for all that we saw or heard referred to itand, in our household, views violently opposed to each other, with theexception of extreme republicanism, were freely discussed. 

The majority of our conservative acquaintances were loud in complaint, and bewailed the king's weakness, and the religious corruption andhypocritical aspirations which were aroused by the honest, but romanticand fanatical religious zeal of Frederick William IV. I must have heardthe loudest lamentations concerning this cancer of society at this time, for they are the most deeply imprinted in my memory. Even such men asthe Gepperts, Franz Kugler, H. M. Romberg, Drake, Wilcke, and others, with whose moderate political views I became acquainted later, used tojoin us. Loyal they all were, and our mother was so strongly attachedto the house of Hohenzollern that I heard her request one of the youngermen, when he sharply declared it was time to force the king to abdicate, either to moderate his speech or cease to visit her house. 

Our mother could not prevent, however, similar and worse speeches fromcoming to our ears. 

A particularly deep impression was made upon us by a tall man with a bigblond beard, whose name I have forgotten, but whom we generally met atthe sculptor Streichenberg's when he took us with him in our playhours into his great workshop. This man appeared to be in very goodcircumstances, for he always wore patent-leather boots, and a largediamond ring on his finger; but with his vivacious, even passionatetemperament, he trampled in the dust the things I had always revered. Ihung on his lips when he talked of the rights of the people, and ofhis own vocation to break the way for freedom, or when he anathematizedthose who oppressed a noble nation with the odious yoke of slavery. 

Catch phrases, like "hanging the last king with the guts of the lastpriest, " I heard for the first time from him, and although such speechesdid not please me, they made an impression because they awakened so muchsurprise, and more than once he called upon us to be true sons of ourtime and not a tyrant's bondmen. We heard similar remarks elsewhere ina more moderate form, and from our companions at school in boyishlanguage. 

There were two parties there also, but besides loyalty another sentimentflourished which would now be called chauvinism, yet which possesseda noble influence, since it fostered in our hearts that most beautifulflower of the young mind, enthusiasm for a great cause. 

And during the history lessons on Brandenburg-Prussia our cheeks wouldglow, for what German state could boast a grander, prouder history thanPrussia under the Hohenzollerns, rising by ability, faithfulnessto duty, courage, and self-sacrificing love of country from smallbeginnings to the highest power?

The Liebe school had been attended only by children of good families, while in the Schmidt school a Count Waldersee and Hoym, the son of acapmaker and dealer in eatables, sat together on the same bench. Themost diverse tendencies were represented, and all sorts of satiricalsongs and lampoons found their way to us. Such parodies as this in theSong of Prussia we could understand very well:

 "I am a Prussian, my colours you know, From darkness to light they boldly go; But that for Freedom my fathers died, Is a fact which I have not yet descried. "

Nor did more delicate allusions escape us; for who had not heard, forinstance, of the Friends of Light, who played a part among the Berlinliberals? To whose ears had not come some longing cry for freedom, andespecially freedom of the press?

And though that ever-recurring word Pressfreiheit (freedom of the press)was altered by the wags for us boys into Fressfreiheit (liberty to stuffyourself); though, too, it was condemned in conservative circles as adangerous demand, threatening the peace of the family and opening thedoor to unbridled license among writers for the papers, still we hadheard the other side of the question; that the right freely to expressan opinion belonged to every citizen, and that only through the power offree speech could the way be cleared for a better condition of things. In short, there was no catchword of that stormy period which we ten andtwelve-year-old boys could not have interpreted at least superficially. 

To me it seemed a fine thing to be able to say what one thought right, still I could not understand why such great importance should beattributed to freedom of the press. The father of our friend Bardua wasentitled a counsellor of the Supreme Court, but then he had also filledthe office of a censor, and what a nice, bright boy his son was!

Among our comrades was also the son of Prof. Hengstenberg, who was thehead of the pietists and Protestant zealots, whom we had heard mentionedas the darkest of all obscurants, and his influence over the kingexecrated. By the central flight of steps at the little terrace in frontof the royal palace stood the fine statues of the horse-tamers, and thesteps were called Hengstenberg (Hengste, horses, and Berg, mountain). And this name was explained by the circumstance that whoever wouldapproach the king must do so by the way of "Hengstenberg. "

We knew that quip, too, and yet the son of this mischievous enemy ofprogress was a particularly fine, bright boy, whom we all liked, andwhose father, when I saw him, astonished me, for he was a kindly man andcould laugh as cheerfully as anybody. 

It was all very difficult to understand; and, as we had more friendsamong the conservatives than among the democrats, we played usually withthe former, and troubled ourselves very little about the politics ofour friends' fathers. There was, however, some looking askance at eachother, and cries of "Loyal Legioner!" "Pietist!" "Democrat!" "Friend ofLight!" were not wanting. 

As often happens in the course of history, uncomprehended or onlyhalf-comprehended catchwords serve as a banner around which a greatfollowing collects. 

The parties did not come to blows, probably for the sole reason thatwe conservatives were by far the stronger. Yet there was a fermentationamong us, and a day came when, young as I was, I felt that those whocalled the king weak and wished for a change were in the right. 

In the spring of 1847 every one felt as if standing on a volcano. 

When, in 1844, it was reported that Burgomaster Tschech had fired atthe king--I was then seven years old--we children shared the horror andindignation of our mother, although in the face of such a serious eventwe boys joined in the silly song which was then in everybody's mouth, and which began somewhat in this fashion:

 "Was there ever a man so insolent As Tschech, the mayor, on mischief bent?"

What did we not hear at that time about all the hopes that had beenplaced on the crown-prince, and how ill he had fulfilled them as king!How often I listened quietly in some corner while my mother discussedsuch topics with gentlemen, and from the beginning of the year 1847there was hardly a conversation in Berlin which did not sooner or latertouch upon politics and the general discontent or anxiety. But I had noneed to listen in order to hear such things. On every walk we took theywere forced upon our ears; the air was full of them, the very stonesrepeated them. 

Even we boys had heard of Johann Jacoby's "Four Questions, " whichdeclared a constitution a necessity. 

I have not forgotten the indignation called forth, even among ouracquaintances of moderate views, by Hassenpflug's promotion; and if hisname had never come to my ears at home, the comic papers, caricatures, and the talk everywhere would have acquainted me with the feelingsawakened among the people of Berlin by the favour he enjoyed. And addedto this were a thousand little features, anecdotes, and events which allpointed to the universal discontent. 

The wars for freedom lay far behind us. How much had been promised tothe people when the foreign foe was to be driven out, and how little hadbeen granted! After the July revolution of 1830, many German states hadobtained a constitution, while in Prussia not only did everythingremain in the same condition, but the shameful time of the spying bythe agitators had begun, when so many young men who had deserved wellof their country, like Ernst Moriz, Arndt, and Jahn, distinguished andhonourable scholars like Welcker, suffered severely under these odiouspersecutions. One must have read the biography of the honest andlaborious Germanist Wackernagel to be able to credit the fact that thatquiet searcher after knowledge was pursued far into middle life bythe most bitter persecution and rancorous injuries, because as aschoolboy--whether in the third or fourth class I do not know--he hadwritten a letter in which was set forth some new division, thought outin his childish brain, for the united German Empire of which he dreamed. 

Such men as Kamptz and Dambach kept their places by casting suspicionupon others and condemning them, but they little dreamed when theysummoned before their execrable tribunal the insignificant student FritzReuter, of Mecklenburg, how he would brand their system and their names. Most of these youths who had been plunged into misery by such rascallyabuse of office and the shameful way in which a king naturally anythingbut malignant, was misled and deceived, were either dead and gone, or had been released from prison as mature men. What hatred must havefilled their souls for that form of government which had dared thusto punish their pure enthusiasm for a sacred cause--the unity andwell-earned freedom of their native land! Ah, there were dangerousforces to subdue among those grey-haired martyrs, for it was their fieryspirit and high hearts which had brought them to ruin. 

Those who had been disappointed in the results of the war for liberty, and those who had suffered in the demagogue period, had ventured to hopeonce more when the much-extolled crown-prince, Frederick William IV, mounted the throne. What disappointment was in store for them; what newsuffering was laid upon them when, instead of the rosy dawn of freedomwhich they fancied they had seen, a deeper darkness and a more recklessoppression set in! What they had taken for larks announcing the breakingof a brighter day turned out to be bats and similar vermin of the night. In the state the exercise of a boundless arbitrary power; in the Church, dark intolerance; and, in its train, slavish submission, favour-seeking, rolling up of the eyes, and hypocrisy as means to unworthy ends, andespecially to that of speedy promotion--the deepest corruption ofall--that of the soul. 

What naturally followed caused the loyalists the keenest pain, for theinjury done to the strong monarchical feeling of the Prussian peoplein the person and the conduct of Frederick William IV was not to beestimated. Only the simple heroic greatness and the paternal dignity ofan Emperor William could have repaired it. 

In the year preceding the revolution there had been a bad harvest, and frightful stories were told of famine in the weaving districtsof Silesia. Even before Virchow, in his free-spoken work on thefamine-typhus, had faithfully described the full misery of thosewretched sufferers, it had become apparent to the rulers in Berlin thatsomething must be done to relieve the public distress. 

The king now began to realize distinctly the universal discontent, andin order to meet it and still further demands he summoned the GeneralAssembly. 

I remember distinctly how fine our mother thought the speech with whichhe opened that precursor of the Prussian Chambers, and the addressshowed him in fact to be an excellent orator. 

To him, believing as he did with the most complete conviction inroyalty by the grace of God and in his calling by higher powers, anyrelinquishing of his prerogative would seem like a betrayal of hisdivine mission. The expression he uttered in the Assembly in the courseof his speech--"I and my people will serve the Lord"--came from the verydepths of his heart; and nothing could be more sincerely meant than theremark, "From one weakness I know myself to be absolutely free: I do notstrive for vain public favour. My only effort is to do my duty to thebest of my knowledge and according to my conscience, and to deserve thegratitude of my people, though it should be denied me. "

The last words have a foreboding sound, and prove what is indeed evidentfrom many other expressions--that he had begun to experience in his ownperson the truth of the remark he had made when full of hope, and hailedwith joyful anticipations at his coronation--"The path of a king is fullof sorrow, unless his people stand by him with loyal heart and mind. "

His people did not do that, and it was well for them; for the pathindicated by the royal hand would have led them to darkness and to theindignity of ever-increasing bondage, mental and temporal. 

The prince himself is entitled to the deepest sympathy. He wished to doright, and was endowed with great and noble gifts which would have donehonour to a private individual, but could not suffice for the ruler of apowerful state in difficult times. 

Hardly had the king opened the General Assembly in April, 1848, and, forthe relief of distress among the poorer classes in the capital, repealedthe town dues on corn, when the first actual evidences of discontentbroke out. The town tax was so strictly enforced at that time at allthe gates of Berlin that even hacks entering the city were stopped andsearched for provisions of meat or bread--a search which was usuallyconducted in a cursory and courteous manner. 

In my sister Paula's journal I have an almost daily account of thatperiod, with frequent reference to political events, but it is not mytask to write a history of the Berlin revolution. 

Those of my sister's records which refer to the revolutionary periodbegin with a mention of the so-called potato revolution, which occurredten days after the opening of the General Assembly, though it had noconnection with it. 

 [Excessive prices had been asked for a peck of potatoes, which enraged the purchasers, who threw them into the gutter and laid hands on some of the market-women. The assembled crowd then plundered some bakers' and butchers' shops, and was finally dispersed by the military. A certain Herr Winckler is said to have lost his life. Many windows were broken, etc. ]

This riot took place on the 21st of April, and on the 2d of May Paulaalludes to a performance at the opera-house, which Ludo and I attended. It was the last appearance of Fran Viardot Garcia as Iphigenia, but Ifear Paula is right in saying that the great singer did her best foran ungrateful public, for the attention of the audience was directedchiefly to the king and queen. The latter appeared in the theatre forthe first time since a severe illness, the enthusiasm was great, andthere was no end to the cries of "Long live the king and queen!" whichwere repeated between every act. 

I relate the circumstance to show with what a devoted and faithfulaffection the people of Berlin still clung to the royal pair. On theother hand, their regard for the Prince of Prussia, afterward EmperorWilliam, was already shaken. He who alone remained firm when all aboutthe king were wavering, was regarded as the embodiment of military rule, against which a violent opposition was rising. 

Our mother was even then devoted to him with a reverence which borderedupon affection, and we children with her. 

We felt more familiar with him, too; than with any other members of theruling house, for Fraulein Lamperi, who was in a measure like one of ourown family, was always relating the most attractive stories about himand his noble spouse, whose waiting-woman she had been. 

Of Frederick William IV it was generally jokes that were told, some ofthem very witty ones. We once came in contact with him in a singularway. 

Our old cook, Frau Marx, who called herself "the Marxen, " was nearlyblind, and wished to enter an institution, for which it was necessary tohave his Majesty's consent. Many years before, when she was living ina count's family, she had taught the king, as a young prince, to churn, and on the strength of this a petition was drawn up for her by myfamily. This she handed into the king's carriage, in the palacecourt-yard, and to his question who she was, she replied, "Why, I'm oldMarxen, and your Majesty is my last retreat. " This speech was repeatedto my mother by the adjutant who came to inquire about the petitioner, and he assured her that his Majesty had been greatly amused by the oldwoman's singular choice of words, and had repeated it several times topersons about him. Her wish was fulfilled at once. 

The memory of those March days of 1848 is impressed on my soul inineffaceable characters. More beautiful weather I never knew. It seemedas if May had taken the place of its stormy predecessor. From the 13ththe sun shone constantly from a cloudless sky, and on the 18th thefruit-trees in our garden were in full bloom. Whoever was not kept inthe house by duty or sickness was eager to be out. The public gardenswere filled by afternoon, and whoever wanted to address the people hadno need to call an audience together. Whatever rancour, indignation, discontent, and sorrow had lurked under ground now came forth, andthe buds of longing and joyful expectation hourly unfolded in greaterstrength and fuller bloom. 

The news of the Paris revolution, whose confirmation had reachedBerlin in the last few days of February, had caused all this growth andblossoming like sunshine and warm rain. There was no repressing it, and the authorities felt daily more and more that their old measures ofrestraint were failing. 

The accounts from Paris were accompanied by report after report fromthe rest of Germany, shaking the old structure of absolutism like therepeated shocks of a battering-ram. 

Freedom of the press was not yet granted, but tongues had begun tomove freely-indeed, often without any restraint. As early as the 7th ofMarch, and in bad weather, too, meetings began to be held in tents. Assoon as the fine spring days came we found great crowds listening tobearded orators, who told them of the revolution in Paris and of theaddresses to the king--how they had passed hither and thither, andhow they had been received. They had all contained very much the samedemands--freedom of the press, representatives of the people to bechosen by free election, all religious confessions to be placed on anequal footing in the exercise of political rights, and representation ofthe people in the German Confederacy. 

These demands were discussed with fiery zeal, and the royal promise, just given, of calling together the Assembly again and issuing a lawon the press, after the Confederate Diet should have been moved to asimilar measure, was condemned in strong terms as an insufficient andhalf-way procedure--a payment on account, in order to gain time. 

On the 15th the particulars of the Vienna revolution and Metternich'sflight reached Berlin; and we, too, learned the news, and heard ourmother and her friends asking anxiously, "How will this end?"

Unspeakable excitement had taken possession of young and old--at home, in the street, and at school--for blood had already flowed in thecity. On the 13th, cavalry had dispersed a crowd in the vicinity ofthe palace, and the same thing was repeated on the two following days. Fortunately, few were injured; but rumour, ever ready to increase andenhance the horrible desire of many fanatics to stir up the fire ofdiscontent, had conspired to make wounded men dead ones, and slightinjuries severe. 

These exaggerations ran through the city, arousing indignation; and thecorrespondents of foreign papers, knowing that readers often like bestwhat is most incredible, had sent the accounts to the provinces andforeign countries. 

But blood had flowed. Hatred of the soldiery, to which, however, someamong the insurgents had once been proud to belong, grew with fatefulrapidity, and was still further inflamed by those who saw in themilitary the brazen wall that stood between them and the fulfillment oftheir most ardent wishes. 

A spark might spring the open and overcharged mine into the air; anill-chosen or misunderstood expression, a thoughtless act, might bringabout an explosion. 

The greatest danger threatened from fresh conflicts between the army andthe people, and it was to the fear of this that various young orelderly gentlemen owed their office of going about wherever a crowdwas assembled and urging the populace to keep the peace. They weredistinguished by a white band around the arm bearing the words, "Commissioner of Protection, " and a white rod a foot and a halflong designed to awaken the respect accorded by the English to theirconstables. We recognized many well-known men; but the Berlin populace, called by Goethe insolent, is not easily impressed, and we sawconstables surrounded by street boys like an owl with a train of littlebirds fluttering teasingly around it. Even grown persons called themnicknames and jeered at their sticks, which they styled "cues" and"tooth-picks. "

A large number of students, too, had expressed their readiness to jointhis protective commission, either as constables or deputies, and hadreceived the wand and band at the City Hall. 

How painful the exercise of their vocation was made to them it would bedifficult to describe. News from Austria and South Germany, where thepeople's cause seemed to be advancing with giant strides to the desiredgoal, hourly increased the offensive strength of the excited populace. 

On the afternoon of the 16th the Potsdam Platz, only a few hundred stepsfrom our house, was filled with shouting and listening throngs, crowdedaround the sculptor Streichenberg, his blond-bearded friend, and otherviolently gesticulating leaders. This multitude received constantreenforcements from the city and through Bellevuestrasse. On theleft, at the end of the beautiful street with its rows of buddingchestnut-trees, lay "Kemperhof, " a pleasure resort where we had oftenlistened to the music of a band clad in green hunting costume. Many musthave come thence, for I find that on the 16th an assemblage was heldthere from which grew the far more important one on the morning of the17th, with its decisive conclusion in Kopenickerstrasse. 

At this meeting, on the afternoon of the 17th, it was decided to seton foot a peaceful manifestation of the wishes of the people, and a newaddress to the king was drawn up. It was settled that on the 28th ofMarch, at two o'clock, thousands of citizens with the badges of theprotective commission should appear before the palace and send in adeputation to his Majesty with a document which should clearly conveythe principal requirements of the people. 

What they were to represent to the king as urgently necessary was: Thewithdrawal of the military force, the organization of an armed citizenguard, the granting of an unconditional freedom of the press, which hadbeen promised for a lifetime, and the calling of the General Assembly. Ishall return to the address later. 

CHAPTER IX. THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH. 

THE 17th passed so quietly that hopes of a peaceable outcome of thefateful conflict began to awake. My own recollections confirm this. 

People believed so positively that the difficulty would be adjusted, that in the forenoon of the 18th my mother sent my eldest sister Marthato her drawing-lesson, which was given at General Baeyer's, in theFriedrichstrasse. 

Ludo and I went to school, and when it was over the many joyful faces inthe street confirmed what we had heard during the school hours. 

The king had granted the Constitution and the "freedom of the press. "

Crowds were collected in front of the placards which announced thisfact, but there was no need to force our way through; their contentswere read aloud at every corner and fountain. 

One passer-by repeated it to another, and friend shouted to friendacross the street. "Have you heard the news?" was the almost invariablequestion when people accosted one another, and at least one "Thank God!"was contained in every conversation. Two or three older acquaintanceswhom we met charged us, in all haste, to tell our mother; but she hadheard it already, and her joy was so great that she forgot to scold usfor staying away so long. Fraulein Lamperi, on the contrary, who dinedwith us, wept. She was convinced that the unfortunate king had beenforced into something which would bring ruin both to him and hissubjects. "His poor Majesty!" she sobbed in the midst of our joy. 

Our mother loved the king too, but she was a daughter of the freeNetherlands; two of her brothers and sisters lived in England; andthe friends she most valued, whom she knew to be warmly and faithfullyattached to the house of Hohenzollern, thought it high time that thePrussian people attained the majority to which that day had broughtthem. Moreover, her active mind knew no rest till it had won a clearinsight into questions concerning the times and herself. So she hadreached the conviction that no peace between king and people could beexpected unless a constitution was granted. In Parliament she would havesat on the right, but that her adopted country should have a Parliamentfilled her with joyful pride. 

Ludo and I were very gay. It was Saturday, and towards evening wewere going to a children's ball given by Privy-Councillor Romberg--thespecialist for nervous diseases--for his daughter Marie, for which newblue jackets had been made. 

We were eagerly expecting them, and about three o'clock the tailor came. 

Our mother was present when he tried them on, and when she remarkedthat now all was well, the man shook his head, and declared that theconcessions of the forenoon had had no other object than to befool thepeople; that would appear before long. 

While I write, it seems as if I saw again that poor little bearer ofthe first evil tidings, and heard once more the first shots whichinterrupted his prophecy with eloquent confirmation. 

Our mother turned pale. 

The tailor folded up his cloth and hurried away. What did his wordsmean, and what was the firing outside?

We strained our ears to listen. The noise seemed to grow louder and comenearer; and, just as our mother cried, "For Heaven's sake, Martha!"the cook burst into the room, exclaiming, "The row began in theSchlossplatz!"

Fraulein Lamperi shrieked, seized her bonnet and cloak, and thepompadour which she took with her everywhere, to hurry home as fast asshe could. 

Our mother could think only of Martha. She had dined at the Baeyers' andwas now perhaps on the way home. Somebody must be sent to meet her. Butof what use would be the escort of a maid; and Kurschner was gone, andthe porter not to be found!

The cook was sent in one direction, the chambermaid in another, to seeka male escort for Martha. 

And then there was Frau Lieutenant Beyer, our neighbour in the house, whose husband was on the general staff, asking: "How is it possible?Everything was granted! What can have happened?"

The answer was a rattle of musketry. We leaned out of the window, fromwhich we could see as far as Potsdamstrasse. What a rush there wastowards the gate! Three or four men dashed down the middle of the quietstreet. The tall, bearded fellow at the head we knew well. It was theupholsterer Specht, who had often put up curtains and done similar workfor us, a good and capable workman. 

But what a change! Instead of a neat little hammer, he was flourishingan axe, and he and his companions looked as furious as if they weregoing to revenge some terrible injury. 

He caught sight of us, and I remember distinctly the whites of hisrolling eyes as he raised his axe higher, and shouted hoarsely, and asif the threat was meant for us:

"They shall get it!"

Our mother and Frau Beyer had seen and heard him too, and the firing inthe direction of which the upholsterer and his companions were runningwas very near. 

The fight must already be raging in Leipzigerstrasse. 

At last the porter came back and announced that barricades had beenbuilt at the corner of Mauer-and Friedrichstrasse, and that a violentconflict had broken out there and in other places between the soldiersand the citizens. And our Martha was in Friedrichstrasse, and did notcome. We lived beyond the gate, and it was not to be expected thatfighting would break out in our neighbourhood; but back of our gardens, in the vicinity of the Potsdam railway station, the beating of drumswas heard. The firing, however, which became more and more violent, was louder than any other noise; and when we saw our mother wild withanxiety, we, too, began to be alarmed for our dear, sweet Martha. 

It was already dark, and still we waited in vain. 

At last some one rang. Our mother hurried to the door--a thing she neverdid. 

When we, too, ran into the hall, she had her arms around the child whohad incurred such danger, and we little ones kissed her also, and Marthalooked especially pretty in her happy astonishment at such a reception. 

She, too, had been anxious enough while good Heinrich, General Maeyer'sservant, who had been his faithful comrade in arms from 1813 to 1815, brought her home through all sorts of by-ways. But they had been obligedin various places to pass near where the fighting was going on, and thetender-hearted seventeen-year-old girl had seen such terrible thingsthat she burst into tears as she described them. 

For us the worst anxiety was over, and our mother recovered hercomposure. It was perhaps advisable for her, a defenceless widow, toleave the city, which might on the morrow be given over to the unbridledwill of insurgents or of soldiers intoxicated with victory. So shedetermined to make all preparations for going with us to our grandmotherin Dresden. 

Meanwhile the fighting in the streets seemed to have increased incertain places to a battle, for the crash of the artillery grapeshotwas constantly intermingled with the crackling of the infantry fire, andthrough it all the bells were sounding the tocsin, a wailing, warningsound, which stirred the inmost heart. 

It was a fearful din, rattling and thundering and ringing, while the skyemulated the bloodsoaked earth and glowed in fiery red. It was said thatthe royal iron foundry was in flames. 

At last the hour of bedtime came, and I still remember how our mothertold us to pray for the king and those poor people who, in order toattain something we could not understand, were in such great peril. 

CHAPTER X. AFTER THE NIGHT OF REVOLUTION. 

When we rose the next morning the firing was over. It was said that allwas quiet, and we had the well-known proclamation, "To my dear peopleof Berlin. " The horrors of the past night appeared, indeed, to have beenthe result of an unfortunate mistake. The king himself explained thatthe two shots by the troops, which had been taken for the signal toattack the people, were from muskets which had gone off by some unluckyaccident--"thank God, without injuring any one. "

He closed with the words: "Listen to the paternal voice of your king, residents of my loyal and beautiful Berlin; forget what has occurred, as I will forget it with all my heart, for the sake of the great futurewhich, by the blessing of God, will dawn for Prussia, and, throughPrussia, for Germany. Your affectionate queen and faithful mother, whois very ill, joins her heart-felt and tearful entreaties to mine. "

The king also pledged his royal word that the troops would be withdrawnas soon as the Berlin people were ready for peace and removed thebarricades. 

So peace seemed restored, for there had been no fighting for hours, andwe heard that the troops were already withdrawing. 

Our departure for Dresden was out of the question--railway communicationhad ceased. The bells which had sounded the tocsin all night with theirbrazen tongues seemed, after such furious exertion, to have no strengthfor summoning worshippers to church. All the houses of God were closedthat Sunday. 

Our longing to get out of doors grew to impatience, which was destinedto be satisfied, for our mother had a violent headache, and we were sentto get her usual medicine. We reached the Ring pharmacy--a little housein the Potsdam Platz occupied by the well-known writer, Max Ring--in avery few minutes. We performed our errand with the utmost care, gave themedicine to the cook on our return, and hurried off into the city. 

When we had left the Mauer-and Friedrichstrasse behind, our heartsbegan to beat faster, and what we saw on the rest of the way through thelongest street of Berlin as far as the Linden was of such a nature thatthe mere thought of it awakens in me to this day an ardent hope that Imay never witness such sights again. 

Rage, hate, and destruction had celebrated the maddest orgies on ourpath, and Death, with passionate vehemence, had swung his sharpestscythe. Wild savagery and merciless destruction had blended with theshrewdest deliberation and skillful knowledge in constructing thebars which the German, avoiding his own good familiar word, calledbarricades. An elderly gentleman who was explaining their construction, pointed out to us the ingenuity with which some of the barricades hadbeen strengthened for defence on the one side, and left comparativelyweak on the other. Every trench dug where the paving was torn up had itsobject, and each heap of stones its particular design. 

But the ordinary spectator needed a guide to recognize this. At thefirst sight, his attention was claimed by the confused medley and themany heart-rending signs of the horrors practised by man on man. 

Here was a pool of blood, there a bearded corpse; here a blood-stainedweapon, there another blackened with powder. Like a caldron where awitch mixes all manner of strange things for a philter, each barricadeconsisted of every sort of rubbish, together with objects originallyuseful. All kinds of overturned vehicles, from an omnibus to aperambulator, from a carriage to a hand-cart, were everywhere to befound. Wardrobes, commodes, chairs, boards, laths, bookshelves, bathtubs and washtubs, iron and wooden pipes, were piled together, andthe interstices filled with sacks of straw and rags, mattresses, andcarriage cushions. Whence came the planks yonder, if they were notstripped from the floor of some room? Children and promenaders had satonly yesterday on those benches and, the night before that, oil lampsor gas flames had burned on those lamp-posts. The sign-boards on top hadinvited customers into shop or inn, and the roll of carpet beneath wasperhaps to have covered some floor to-morrow. Oleander shrubs, which Iwas to see later in rocky vales of Greece or Algeria, had possiblybeen put out here only the day before into the spring sunshine. Thewarehouses of the capital no doubt contained everything that could beneeded, no matter how or when, but Berlin seemed to me too small for allthe trash that was dragged out of the houses in that March night. 

Bloody and terrible pictures rose before our minds, and perhaps therewas no need of Assessor Geppert's calling to us sternly, "Off home withyou, boys!" to turn our feet in that direction. 

So home we ran, but stopped once, for at a fountain, either inLeipzigstrasse or Potsdamstrasse, a ball from the artillery had struckin the wood-work, and around it a firm hand had written with chalk ina semicircle, "TO MY DEAR PEOPLE OF BERLIN. " On the lower part of thefountain the king's proclamation to the citizens, with the same heading, was posted up. 

What a criticism upon it!

The address set forth that a band of miscreants, principally foreigners, had by patent falsehood turned the affair in the Schlossplatz to thefurtherance of their evil designs, and filled the heated minds of hisdear and faithful people of Berlin with thoughts of vengeance forblood which was supposed to have been spilled. Thus they had become theabominable authors of actual bloodshed. 

The king really believed in this "band of miscreants, " and attributedthe revolution, which he called a 'coup monte' (premeditated affair), tothose wretches. His letters to Bunsen are proof of it. 

Among those who read his address, "To my Dear People of Berlin, " therewere many who were wiser. There had really been no need of foreignagitators to make them take up arms. 

On the morning of the 18th their rejoicing and cheering came from fullhearts, but when they saw or learned that the crowd had been fired intoon the Schlossplatz, their already heated blood boiled over; the peopleso long cheated of their rights, who had been put off when half the restof Germany had their demands fulfilled, could bear it no longer. 

I must remind myself again that I am not writing a history of the Berlinrevolution. Nor would my own youthful impressions justify me in formingan independent opinion as to the motives of that remarkable and somewhatincomprehensible event; but, with the assistance of friends moreintimately acquainted with the circumstances, I have of late obtaineda not wholly superficial knowledge of them, which, with my ownrecollections, leads me to adopt the opinion of Heinrich von Sybelconcerning the much discussed and still unanswered question, whether theBerlin revolution was the result of a long-prepared conspiracy or thespontaneous outburst of enthusiasm for liberty among the citizens. Hesays: "Both these views are equally well founded, for only the unitedeffort of the two forces could insure a possibility of victory. "

Here again the great historian has found the true solution. It was forthe interest of the Poles, the French, and other revolutionary spirits, to bring about a bloody conflict in Berlin, and there were many of themin the capital that spring, among whom must have been men who knew howto build barricades and organize revolts; and it can hardly be doubtedthat, at the decisive moment, they tried to enhance the vengefulness andcombativeness of the people by strong drink and fiery speeches, perhaps, in regard to the dregs of the populace, by money. There is weightyevidence in support of this. But it is still more certain--and, thoughI was but eleven years old and brought up in a loyal atmosphere, I, too, felt and experienced it--that before the 18th of March the generaldiscontent was at the highest point. There was no controlling it. 

If the chief of police, Von Minutoli, asserts that he knew beforehandthe hour when the revolution was to break out, this is no specialevidence of foresight; for the first threat the citizens had ventured toutter against the king was in the address drawn up at the sitting of thepopular assembly in Kopenickstrasse, and couched in the following terms"If this is granted us, and granted at once, then we will guarantee agenuine peace. " To finish the proposition with a statement of what wouldoccur in the opposite case, was left to his Majesty; the assembly hadsimply decided that the "peaceful demonstration of the wishes of thepeople" should take place on the 18th, at two o'clock, several thousandcitizens taking part in it. While the address was handed in, and untilthe reply was received, the ambassadors of the people were to remainquietly assembled in the Schlossplatz. What was to happen in case theabove-mentioned demands were not granted is nowhere set down, but thereis little doubt that many of those present intended to trust to thefortune of arms. The address contained an ultimatum, and Brass is rightin calling it, and the meeting in which it originated, the startingpoint of the revolution. Whoever had considered the matter attentivelymight easily say, "On the 18th, at two o'clock, it will be decidedeither so or so. " The king had come to his determination earlier thanthat. Sybel puts it beyond question that he had been forced to it by thesituation in Europe, not by threats or the compulsion of a conflict inthe streets. Nevertheless it came to a street fight, for the enemiesof order were skillful enough to start a fresh conflagration with thecharred beams of the house whose fire had been put out. But all theirefforts would have been in vain had not the conduct of the Government, and the events of the last few days, paved the way. 

Among my mother's conservative friends, and in her own mind, there was astrong belief that the fighting in Berlin had broken out in consequenceof long-continued stirring of the people by foreign agitators; but I canaffirm that in my later life, before I began to reflect particularlyon the subject, it always seemed to me, when I recalled the time whichpreceded the 18th of March, as if existing circumstances must have ledto the expectation of an outbreak at any moment. 

It is difficult in these days to form an idea of the sharp divisionswhich succeeded the night of the revolution in Berlin, just as one canhardly conceive now, even in court circles, of the whole extent andenthusiastic strength of the sentiment of Prussian loyalty at that time. These opposite principles separated friends, estranged families longunited in love, and made themselves felt even in the Schmidt schoolduring the short time that we continued to go there. 

Our bold excursion over the barricades was unpunished, so far as Iremember. Perhaps it was not even noticed, for our mother, in spite ofher violent headache, had to make preparations for the illumination ofour tolerably long row of windows. Not to have lighted the house wouldhave imperilled the window-panes. To my regret, we were not allowed tosee the illumination. I have since thought it a peculiarly amusing trickof fate that the palace of the Russian embassy--the property of theautocrat Nicholas--was obliged to celebrate with a brilliant display oflights the movement for liberty in a sister country. 

On Monday, the 20th, we were sent to school, but it was closed, and wetook advantage of the circumstance to get into the heart of the city. The appearance of the town-hall peppered with balls I have neverforgotten. Most of the barricades were cleared away; instead, there weresingular inscriptions in chalk on the doors of various public buildings. 

At the beginning of Leipzigstrasse, at the main entrance of theMinistry of War, we read the words, "National Property. " Elsewhere, andparticularly at the palace of the Prince of Prussia, was "Property ofthe Citizens" or "Property of the entire Nation. "

An excited throng had gathered in front of the plain and simple palaceto whose high ground-floor windows troops of loyal and grateful Germanshave often looked up with love and admiration to see the belovedcountenance of the grey-haired imperial hero. That day we stood amongthe crowd and listened to the speech of a student, who addressed usfrom the great balcony amid a storm of applause. Whether it was the samehonest fellow who besought the people to desist from their design ofburning the prince's palace because the library would be imperilled, I do not know, but the answer, "Leave the poor boys their books, " isauthentic. 

And it is also true, unhappily, that it was difficult to save fromdestruction the house of the man whose Hohenzollern blood asserteditself justly against the weakness of his royal brother. Through thosedays of terror he was what he always had been and would remain, anupright man and soldier, in the highest and noblest meaning of thewords. 

What we saw and heard in the palace and its courts, swarming withcitizens and students, was so low and revolting that I dislike to thinkof it. 

Some of the lifeless heroes were just being borne past on litters, greeted by the wine-flushed faces of armed students and citizens. Theteachers who had overtaken us on the way recognized among them collegefriends who praised the delicious vintage supplied by the palace guards. 

My brother and I were also fated to see Frederick William IV. Ride downthe Behrenstrasse and the Unter den Linden with a large black, red, andyellow band around his arm. 

The burial of those who had fallen during the night of the revolutionwas one of the most imposing ceremonies ever witnessed in Berlin. Weboys were permitted to look at it only for a short time, yet the wholeimpression of the procession, which we really ought not to have beenallowed to see, has lingered in my memory. 

It was wonderful weather, as warm as summer, and the vast escort whichaccompanied the two hundred coffins of the champions of freedom totheir last resting-place seemed endless. We were forbidden to go on theplatform in front of the Neuenkirche where they were placed, but thespectacle must have produced a strange yet deeply pathetic impression. 

Pastor Sydow, who represented the Protestant clergy as the PrelateRoland did the Catholics, and the Rabbi Dr. Sachs the Jews, afterwardstold me that the multitude of coffins, adorned with the rarest flowersand lavishly draped with black, presented an image of mournful splendournever to be forgotten, and I can easily believe it. 

This funeral remains in my memory as an endless line of coffins andblack-garbed men with banners and hats bound with crape, bearingflowers, emblems of guilds, and trade symbols. Mounted standard bearers, gentlemen in robes--the professors of the university--and students inholiday attire, mingled in the motley yet solemn train. 

How many tears were shed over those coffins which contained the earthlyremains of many a young life once rich in hopes and glowing with warmenthusiasm, many a quiet heart which had throbbed joyously for man'snoblest possession! The interment in the Friedrichshain, where fourhundred singers raised their voices, and a band of music composed of thehautboy players of many regiments poured mighty volumes of soundover the open graves of the dead, must have been alike dignified andmajestic. 

But the opposition between the contending parties was still too great, and the demand upon the king to salute the dead had aroused such angerin my mother's circle, that she kept aloof from these magnificent andin themselves perfectly justifiable funeral obsequies. It seemed almostunendurable that the king had constrained himself to stand on thebalcony of the palace with his head bared, holding his helmet in hishand, while the procession passed. 

The effect of this act upon the loyal citizens of Berlin can scarcely bedescribed. I have seen men--even our humble Kurschner--weep during theaccount of it by eye-witnesses. 

Whoever knew Frederick William IV. Also knew that neither genuinereconciliation nor respect for the fallen champions of liberty inducedhim to show this outward token of respect, which was to him the deepesthumiliation. 

The insincerity of the sovereign's agreement with the ideas, events, andmen of his day was evident in the reaction which appeared only toosoon. His conviction showed itself under different forms, but remainedunchanged, both in political and religious affairs. 

During the interval life had assumed a new aspect. The minority hadbecome the majority, and many a son of a strictly conservative man wasforbidden to oppose the "red. " Only no one needed to conceal his loyaltyto the king, for at that time the democrats still shared it. A good wordfor the Prince of Prussia, on the contrary, inevitably led to a brawl, but we did not shrink from it, and, thank Heaven, we were among thestrongest boys. 

This intrusion of politics into the school-room and the whole tense lifeof the capital was extremely undesirable, and, if continued, could notfail to have an injurious influence upon immature lads; so my motherhastily decided that, instead of waiting until the next year, we shouldgo to Keilhau at once. 

She has often said that this was the most difficult resolve of her life, but it was also one of the best, since it removed us from the motley, confusing impressions of the city, and the petting we received at home, and transferred us to the surroundings most suitable for boys of ourage. 

The first of the greater divisions of my life closes with the Easterwhich follows the Berlin revolution of March, 1848. 

Not until I attained years of maturity did I perceive that theseconflicts, which, long after, I heard execrated in certain quarters as ablot upon Prussian history, rather deserved the warmest gratitude ofthe nation. During those beautiful spring days, no matter by whathands--among them were the noblest and purest--were sown the seeds ofthe dignity and freedom of public life which we now enjoy. 

The words "March conquests" have been uttered by jeering lips, butI think at the present time there are few among the more far-sightedconservatives who would like to dispense with them. To me and, thankHeaven, to the majority of Germans, life deprived of them would seemunendurable. My mother afterward learned to share this opinion, though, like ourselves, in whose hearts she early implanted it, she retained toher last hour her loyalty to the king. 

CHAPTER XI. IN KEILHAU

Keilhau! How much is comprised in that one short word!

It recalls to my memory the pure happiness of the fairest period ofboyhood, a throng of honoured, beloved, and merry figures, and hundredsof stirring, bright, and amusing scenes in a period of life rich ininstruction and amusement, as well as the stage so lavishly endowed byNature on which they were performed. Jean Paul has termed melancholy theblending of joy and pain, and it was doubtless a kindred feeling whichfilled my heart in the days before my departure, and induced me to beparticularly good and obliging to every body in the house. My mothertook us once more to my father's grave in the Dreifaltigkeits cemetery, where I made many good resolutions. Only the best reports should reachhome from Keilhau, and I had already obtained excellent ones in Berlin. 

On the evening of our departure there were numerous kisses and farewellglances at all that was left behind; but when we were seated in thecar with my mother, rushing through the landscape adorned with the mostluxuriant spring foliage, my heart suddenly expanded, and the pleasureof travel and delight in the many new scenes before me destroyed everyother feeling. 

The first vineyard I saw at Naumburg--I had long forgotten those on theRhine--interested me deeply; the Rudelsburg at Kosen, the ruins of areal ancient castle, pleased me no less because I had never heard FranzKugler's song:

 "Beside the Saale's verdant strand Once stood full many a castle grand, But roofless ruins are they all; The wind sweeps through from hall to hall; Slow drift the clouds above, "

which refers to this charming part of the Thuringian hill country. Wewere soon to learn to sing it at Keilhau. Weimar was the first goalof this journey. We had heard much of our classic poets; nay, I knewSchiller's Bell and some of Goethe's poems by heart, and we had heardthem mentioned with deep reverence. Now we were to see their home, and astrange emotion took possession of me when we entered it. 

Every detail of this first journey has remained stamped on my memory. I even know what we ordered for supper at the hotel where we spent thenight. But my mother had a severe headache, so we saw none of the sightsof Weimar except the Goethe house in the city and the other one in thepark. I cannot tell what my feelings were, they are too strongly blendedwith later impressions. I only know that the latter especially seemed tome very small. I had imagined the "Goethe House" like the palace ofthe Prince of Prussia or Prince Radziwill in Wilhelmstrasse. The GrandDuke's palace, on the contrary, appeared aristocratic and stately. Welooked at it very closely, because it was the birthplace of the Princessof Prussia, of whom Fraulein Lamperi had told us so much. 

The next morning my mother was well again. The railroad connectingWeimar and Rudolstadt, near which Keilhau is located, was built longafter, so we continued our journey in an open carriage and reachedRudolstadt about noon. 

After we had rested a short time, the carriage which was to take us toKeilhau drove up. 

As we were getting in, an old gentleman approached, who instantly madea strong impression upon me. In outward appearance he bore a markedresemblance to Wilhelm Grimm. I should have noticed him among hundreds;for long grey locks, parted in the middle, floated around a nobly formedhead, his massive yet refined features bore the stamp of a most kindlynature, and his eyes were the mirror of a pure, childlike soul. The rarecharm of their sunny sparkle, when his warm heart expanded to pleasureor his keen intellect had succeeded in solving any problem, comes backvividly to my memory as I write, and they beamed brightly enough when heperceived our companion. They were old acquaintances, for my mother hadbeen to Keilhau several times on Martin's account. She addressed him bythe name of Middendorf, and we recognized him as one of the heads of theinstitute, of whom we had heard many pleasant things. 

He had driven to Rudolstadt with the "old bay, " but he willinglyaccepted a seat in our carriage. 

We had scarcely left the street with the hotel behind us, when he beganto speak of Schiller, and pointed out the mountain which bore his nameand to which in his "Walk" he had cried:

 "Hail! oh my Mount, with radiant crimson peak. "

Then he told us of the Lengefeld sisters, whom the poet had so often methere, and one of whom, Charlotte, afterward became his wife. Allthis was done in a way which had no touch of pedagogy or of anythingspecially prepared for children, yet every word was easily understoodand interested us. Besides, his voice had a deep, musical tone, to whichmy ear was susceptible at an early age. He understood children of ourdisposition and knew what pleased them. 

In Schaale, the first village through which we passed, he said, pointingto the stream which flowed into the Saale close by: "Look, boys, now weare coming into our own neighbourhood, the valley of the Schaal. It owesits name to this brook, which rises in our own meadows, and I supposeyou would like to know why our village is called Keilhau?"

While speaking, he pointed up the stream and briefly described itscourse. 

We assented. 

We had passed the village of Schaale. The one before us, with thechurch, was called Eichfeld, and at our right was another which we couldnot see, Lichtstadt. In ancient times, he told us, the mountain sidesand the bottom of the whole valley had been clothed with dense oakforests. Then people came who wanted to till the ground. They began toclear (lichten) these woods at Lichtstadt. This was a difficult task, and they had used axes (Keile) for the purpose. At Eichfeld they felledthe oaks (Fiche), and carried the trunks to Schaale, where the bark(Schale) was stripped off to make tan for the tanners on the Saale. Sothe name of Lichtstadt came from the clearing of the forests, Eichfeldfrom the felling of the oaks, Schaale from stripping off the bark, andKeilhau from the hewing with axes. 

This simple tale of ancient times had sprung from the Thuringian soil, so rich in legends, and, little as it might satisfy the etymologist, it delighted me. I believed it, and when afterward I looked down froma height into the valley and saw the Saale, my imagination clothed thebare or pineclad mountain slopes with huge oak forests, and beheld thegiant forms of the ancient Thuringians felling the trees with theirheavy axes. 

The idea of violence which seemed to be connected with the name ofKeilhau had suddenly disappeared. It had gained meaning to me, and HerrMiddendorf had given us an excellent proof of a fundamental requirementof Friedrich Froebel, the founder of the institution: "The external mustbe spiritualized and given an inner significance. "

The same talented pedagogue had said, "Our education associatesinstruction with the external world which surrounds the human being aschild and youth"; and Middendorf carried out this precept when, atthe first meeting, he questioned us about the trees and bushes by thewayside, and when we were obliged to confess our ignorance of most ofthem, he mentioned their names and described their peculiarities. 

At last we reached the Keilhau plain, a bowl whose walls formedtolerably high mountains which surrounded it on all sides except towardRudolstadt, where an opening permitted the Schaalbach to wind throughmeadows and fields. So the village lies like an egg in a nest open inone direction, like the beetle in the calyx of a flower which has lostone of its leaves. Nature has girded it on three sides with protectingwalls which keep the wind from entering the valley, and to this, and thedelicious, crystal-clear water which flows from the mountains intothe pumps, its surprising healthfulness is doubtless due. During myresidence there of four and a half years there was no epidemic diseaseamong the boys, and on the fiftieth jubilee of the institute, in 1867, which I attended, the statement was made that during the half century ofits existence only one pupil had died, and he had had heart disease whenhis parents sent him to the school. 

We must have arrived on Sunday, for we met on the road several peasantsin long blue coats, and peasant women in dark cloth cloaks withgold-embroidered borders, and little black caps from which ribbons threeor four feet long hung down the wearers' backs. The cloaks descendedfrom mother to daughter. They were very heavy, yet I afterward sawpeasant women wear them to church in summer. 

At last we drove into the broad village street. At the right, oppositeto the first houses, lay a small pond called the village pool, on whichducks and geese floated, and whose dark surface, glittering with manyhues, reflected the shepherd's hut. After we had passed some very finefarmhouses, we reached the "Plan, " where bright waters plashed intoa stone trough, a linden tree shaded the dancing-ground, and a prettyhouse was pointed out as the schoolhouse of the village children. 

A short distance farther away the church rose in the background. Butwe had no time to look at it, for we were already driving up to theinstitute itself, which was at the end of the village, and consistedof two rows of houses with an open space closed at the rear by the widefront of a large building. 

The bakery, a small dwelling, and the large gymnasium were at our left;on the right, the so-called Lower House, with the residences of thehead-masters' families, and the school and sleeping-rooms of the smallerpupils, whom we dubbed the "Panzen, " and among whom were boys only eightand nine years old. 

The large house before whose central door--to which a flight of stonesteps led--we stopped, was the Upper House, our future home. 

Almost at the same moment we heard a loud noise inside, and an army ofboys came rushing down the steps. These were the "pupils, " and my heartbegan to throb faster. 

They gathered around the Rudolstadt carriage boldly enough and staredat us. I noticed that almost all were bareheaded. Many wore their hairfalling in long locks down their backs. The few who had any coveringsused black velvet caps, such as in Berlin would be seen only at thetheatre or in an artist's studio. 

Middendorf had stepped quickly among the lads, and as they came runningup to take his hand or hang on his arm we saw how they loved him. 

But we had little time for observation. Barop, the head-master, wasalready hastening down the steps, welcoming my mother and ourselves withhis deep, musical tones, in a pure Westphalian dialect. 

 ENTERING THE INSTITUTE. 

Barop's voice sounded so sincere and cordial that it banished everythought of fear, otherwise his appearance might have inspired boys ofour age with a certain degree of timidity, for he was a broad-shoulderedman of gigantic stature, who, like Middendorf, wore his grey hair partedin the middle, though it was cut somewhat shorter. A pair of dark eyessparkled under heavy, bushy brows, which gave them the aspect of clearsprings shaded by dense thickets. They now gazed kindly at us, but laterwe were to learn their irresistible power. I have said, and I stillthink, that the eyes of the artist, Peter Cornelius, are the mostforceful I have ever seen, for the very genius of art gazed from them. Those of our Barop produced no weaker influence in their way, for theyrevealed scarcely less impressively the character of a man. To them, especially, was clue the implicit obedience that every one rendered him. When they flashed with indignation the defiance of the boldest and mostrefractory quailed. But they could sparkle cheerily, too, and whoevermet his frank, kindly gaze felt honoured and uplifted. 

Earnest, thoroughly natural, able, strong, reliable, rigidly just, freefrom any touch of caprice, he lacked no quality demanded by his arduousprofession, and hence he whom even the youngest addressed as "Barop"never failed for an instant to receive the respect which was his due, and, moreover, had from us all the voluntary gift of affection, nay, oflove. He was, I repeat, every inch a man. 

When very young, the conviction that the education of German boys washis real calling obtained so firm a hold upon his mind that he could notbe dissuaded from giving up the study of the law, in which he had madeconsiderable progress at Halle, and devoting himself to pedagogy. 

His father, a busy lawyer, had threatened him with disinheritance if hedid not relinquish his intention of accepting the by no means brilliantposition of a teacher at Keilhau; but he remained loyal to his choice, though his father executed his threat and cast him off. After the oldgentleman's death his brothers and sisters voluntarily restored hisportion of the property, but, as he himself told me long after, thequarrel with one so dear to him saddened his life for years. For thesake of the "fidelity to one's self" which he required from others hehad lost his father's love, but he had obeyed a resistless inner voice, and the genuineness of his vocation was to be brilliantly proved. 

Success followed his efforts, though he assumed the management of theKeilhau Institute under the most difficult circumstances. 

Beneath its roof he had found in the niece of Friedrich Froebel abeloved wife, peculiarly suited both to him and to her future position. She was as little as he was big, but what energy, what tireless activitythis dainty, delicate woman possessed! To each one of us she showeda mother's sympathy, managed the whole great household down to thesmallest details, and certainly neglected nothing in the care of her ownsons and daughters. 

A third master, the archdeacon Langethal, was one of the founders of theinstitution, but had left it several years before. 

As I mention him with the same warmth that I speak of Middendorf andBarop, many readers will suspect that this portion of my reminiscencescontains a receipt for favours, and that reverence and gratitude, nay, perhaps the fear of injuring an institution still existing, induces meto show only the lights and cover the shadows with the mantle of love. 

I will not deny that a boy from eleven to fifteen years readilyoverlooks in those who occupy an almost paternal relation to him faultswhich would be immediately noted by the unclouded eyes of a criticalobserver; but I consider myself justified in describing what I saw inmy youth exactly as it impressed itself on my memory. I have neverperceived the smallest flaw or even a trait or act worthy of censure ineither Barop, Middendorf, or Langethal. Finally, I may say that, afterhaving learned in later years from abundant data willingly placed at mydisposal by Johannes Barop, our teacher's son and the present master ofthe institute, the most minute details concerning their character andwork, none of these images have sustained any material injury. 

In Friedrich Froebel, the real founder of the institute, who repeatedlylived among us for months, I have learned to know from his own works andthe comprehensive amount of literature devoted to him, a really talentedidealist, who on the one hand cannot be absolved from an amazingcontempt for or indifference to the material demands of life, and on theother possessed a certain artless selfishness which gave him courage, whenever he wished to promote objects undoubtedly pure and noble, todeal arbitrarily with other lives, even where it could hardly redound totheir advantage. I shall have more to say of him later. 

The source of Middendorf's greatness in the sphere where life and hisown choice had placed him may even be imputed to him as a fault. He, themost enthusiastic of all Froebel's disciples, remained to his life'send a lovable child, in whom the powers of a rich poetic soul surpassedthose of the thoughtful, well-trained mind. He would have beenill-adapted for any practical position, but no one could be bettersuited to enter into the soul-life of young human beings, cherish andennoble them. 

A deeper insight into the lives of Barop and Langethal taught me toprize these men more and more. 

They have all rested under the sod for decades, and though theirinstitute, to which I owe so much, has remained dear and precious, and the years I spent in the pleasant Thuringian mountain valley arenumbered among the fairest in my life, I must renounce making proselytesfor the Keilhau Institute, because, when I saw its present head for thelast time, as a very young man, I heard from him, to my sincere regret, that, since the introduction of the law of military service, he foundhimself compelled to make the course of study at Rudolstadt conform tothe system of teaching in a Realschule. --[School in which the arts andsciences as well as the languages are taught. -TR. ]--He was forced todo so in order to give his graduates the certificate for the one year'smilitary service. 

The classics, formerly held in such high esteem beneath its roof, mustnow rank below the sciences and modern languages, which are regardedas most important. But love for Germany and the development of Germancharacter, which Froebel made the foundation of his method of education, are too deeply rooted there ever to be extirpated. Both are as zealouslyfostered in Keilhau now as in former years. 

After a cordial greeting from Barop, we had desks assigned us in theschoolroom, which were supplied with piles of books, writing materials, and other necessaries. Ludo's bed stood in the same dormitory with mine. Both were hard enough, but this had not damped our gay spirits, and whenwe were taken to the other boys we were soon playing merrily with therest. 

The first difficulty occurred after supper, and proved to be one of themost serious I encountered during my stay in the school. 

My mother had unpacked our trunks and arranged everything in order. Among the articles were some which were new to the boys, and specialnotice was attracted by several pairs of kid gloves and a box of pomadewhich belonged in our pretty leather dressing-case, a gift from mygrandmother. 

Dandified, or, as we should now term them, "dudish" affairs, were notallowed at Keilhau; so various witticisms were made which culminatedwhen a pupil of about our own age from a city on the Weser called usBerlin pomade-pots. This vexed me, but a Berlin boy always has an answerready, and mine was defiant enough. The matter might have ended here hadnot the same lad stroked my hair to see how Berlin pomade smelt. From achild nothing has been more unendurable than to feel a stranger's handtouch me, especially on the head, and, before I was aware of it, I haddealt my enemy a resounding slap. Of course, he instantly rushed at me, and there would have been a violent scuffle had not the older pupilsinterfered. If we wanted to do anything, we must wrestle. This suitedmy antagonist, and I, too, was not averse to the contest, for I hadunusually strong arms, a well-developed chest, and had practisedwrestling in the Berlin gymnasium. 

The struggle began under the direction of the older pupils, and thegrip on which I had relied did not fail. It consisted in clutchingthe antagonist just above the hips. If the latter were not greatly mysuperior, and I could exert my whole strength to clasp him to me, hewas lost. This time the clever trick did its duty, and my adversary wasspeedily stretched on the ground. I turned my back on him, but he rose, panting breathlessly. "It's like a bear squeezing one. " In reply toevery question from the older boys who stood around us laughing, healways made the same answer, "Like a bear. "

I had reason to remember this very common incident in boy life, forit gave me the nickname used by old and young till after my departure. Henceforward I was always called "the bear. " Last year I had thepleasure of receiving a visit from Dr. Bareuther, a member of theAustrian Senate and a pupil of Keilhau. We had not met for forty years, and his first words were: "Look at me, Bear. Who am I?"

My brother had brought his nickname with him, and everybody called himLudo instead of Ludwig. The pretty, bright, agile lad, who also neverflinched, soon became especially popular, and my companions were alsofond of me, as I learned, when, during the last years of my stay atthe institute, they elected me captain of the first Bergwart--that is, commander-in-chief of the whole body of pupils. 

My first fight secured my position forever. We doubtless owed ourinitiation on the second day into everything which was done by thepupils, both openly and secretly, to the good impression made by Martin. There was nothing wrong, and even where mischief was concerned I canterm it to-day "harmless. " The new boys or "foxes" were not neglectedor "hazed, " as in many other schools. Only every one, even the newlyarrived younger teachers, was obliged to submit to the "initiation. "This took place in winter, and consisted in being buried in the snow andhaving pockets, clothing, nay, even shirts, filled with the clean butwet mass. Yet I remember no cold caused by this rude baptism. Mymother remained several days with us, and as the weather was fine sheaccompanied us to the neighbouring heights--the Kirschberg, to which, after the peaceful cemetery of the institute was left behind, a zigzagpath led; the Kohn, at whose foot rose the Upper House; and the Steiger, from whose base flowed the Schaalbach, and whose summit afforded a viewof a great portion of the Thuringian mountains. 

We older pupils afterwards had a tall tower erected there as a monumentto Barop, and the prospect from its lofty summit, which is more that athousand feet high, is magnificent. 

Even before the completion of this lookout, the view was one of themost beautiful and widest far or near, and we were treated like mostnew-comers. During the ascent our eyes were bandaged, and when thehandkerchief was removed a marvellous picture appeared before ourastonished gaze. In the foreground, toward the left, rose the woodedheight crowned by the stately ruins of the Blankenburg. Beyondopened the beautiful leafy bed of the Saale, proudly dominated by theLeuchtenburg. Before us there was scarcely any barrier to the vision;for behind the nearer ranges of hills one chain of the wooded ThuringianMountains towered beyond another, and where the horizon seemed to closethe grand picture, peak after peak blended with the sky and the clouds, and the light veil of mist floating about them seemed to merge all intoan indivisible whole. 

I have gazed from this spot into the distance at every hour of the dayand season of the year. But the fairest time of all on the Steiger wasat sunset, on clear autumn days, when the scene close at hand, wherethe threads of gossamer were floating, was steeped in golden light, the distance in such exquisite tints-from crimson to the deepest violetblue, edged with a line of light-the Saale glimmered with a silverylustre amid its fringe of alders, and the sun flashed on the glitteringpanes of the Leuchtenburg. 

We were now old enough to enjoy the magnificence of this prospect. Myyoung heart swelled at the sight; and if in after years my eyes couldgrasp the charm of a beautiful landscape and my pen successfullydescribe it, I learned the art here. 

It was pleasant, too, that my mother saw all this with us, though shemust often have gone to rest very much wearied from her rambles. Butteachers and pupils vied with each other in attentions to her. She hadwon all hearts. We noticed and rejoiced in it till the day came when sheleft us. 

She was obliged to start very early in the morning, in order toreach Berlin the same evening. The other boys were not up, but Barop, Middendorf, and several other teachers had risen to take leave of her. A few more kisses, a wave of her handkerchief, and the carriage vanishedin the village. Ludo and I were alone, and I vividly remember the momentwhen we suddenly began to weep and sob as bitterly as if it had been aneternal farewell. How often one human being becomes the sun of another'slife! And it is most frequently the mother who plays this beautifulpart. 

Yet the anguish of parting did not last very long, and whoever hadwatched the boys playing ball an hour later would have heard our voicesamong the merriest. Afterwards we rarely had attacks of homesickness, there were so many new things in Keilhau, and even familiar objectsseemed changed in form and purpose. 

From the city we were in every sense transferred to the woods. 

True, we had grown up in the beautiful park of the Thiergarten, butonly on its edge; to live in and with Nature, "become one with her, " asMiddendorf said, we had not learned. 

I once read in a novel by Jensen, as a well-attested fact, that duringan inquiry made in a charity school in the capital a considerable numberof the pupils had never seen a butterfly or a sunset. We were certainlynot to be classed among such children. But our intercourse with Naturehad been limited to formal visits which we were permitted to pay theaugust lady at stated intervals. In Keilhau she became a familiarfriend, and we therefore were soon initiated into many of her secrets;for none seemed to be withheld from our Middendorf and Barop, whomduty and inclination alike prompted to sharpen our ears also for herlanguage. 

The Keilhau games and walks usually led up the mountains or into theforest, and here the older pupils acted as teachers, but not in anypedagogical way. Their own interest in whatever was worthy of note inNature was so keen that they could not help pointing it out to theirless experienced companions. 

On our "picnics" from Berlin we had taken dainty mugs in order to drinkfrom the wells; now we learned to seek and find the springs themselves, and how delicious the crystal fluid tastes from the hollow of the hand, Diogenes's drinking-cup!

Old Councillor Wellmer, in the Crede House, in Berlin, a zealousentomologist, owned a large collection of beetles, and had carefullyimpaled his pets on long slender pins in neat boxes, which fillednumerous glass cases. They lacked nothing but life. In Keilhau we foundevery variety of insect in central Germany, on the bushes and in themoss, the turf, the bark of trees, or on the flowers and blades ofgrass, and they were alive and allowed us to watch them. Instead ofneatly written labels, living lips told us their names. 

We had listened to the notes of the birds in the Thiergarten; but ourmother, the tutor, the placards, our nice clothing, prohibited ourfollowing the feathered songsters into the thickets. But in Keilhau wewere allowed to pursue them to their nests. The woods were open to everyone, and nothing could injure our plain jackets and stout boots. Evenin my second year at Keilhau I could distinguish all the notes of thenumerous birds in the Thuringian forests, and, with Ludo, began thecollection of eggs whose increase afforded us so much pleasure. Ourteachers' love for all animate creation had made them impose bounds onthe zeal of the egg-hunters, who were required always to leave one eggin the nest, and if it contained but one not to molest it. How manytrees we climbed, what steep cliffs we scaled, through what crevices wesqueezed to add a rare egg to our collection; nay, we even risked ourlimbs and necks! Life is valued so much less by the young, to whom it isbrightest, and before whom it still stretches in a long vista, than bythe old, for whom its charms are already beginning to fade, and who arenear its end. 

I shall never forget the afternoon when, supplied with ropes andpoles, we went to the Owl Mountain, which originally owed its name toMiddendorf, because when he came to Keilhau he noticed that its rockyslope served as a home for several pairs of horned owls. Since thentheir numbers had increased, and for some time larger night birds hadbeen flying in and out of a certain crevice. 

It was still the laying season, and their nests must be there. Climbingthe steep precipice was no easy task, but we succeeded, and were thenlowered from above into the crevice. At that time we set to work withthe delight of discoverers, but now I frown when I consider that thosewho let first the daring Albrecht von Calm, of Brunswick, and then meinto the chasm by ropes were boys of thirteen or fourteen at the utmost. Marbod, my companion's brother, was one of the strongest of our number, and we were obliged to force our way like chimney sweeps by pressing ourhands and feet against the walls of the narrow rough crevice. Yet it nowseems a miracle that the adventure resulted in no injury. Unfortunately, we found the young birds already hatched, and were compelled to returnwith our errand unperformed. But we afterward obtained such eggs, andtheir form is more nearly ball-shape than that seen in those of mostother birds. We knew how the eggs of all the feathered guests of Germanywere coloured and marked, and the chest of drawers containing ourcollection stood for years in my mother's attic. When I inquired aboutit a few years ago, it could not be found, and Ludo, who had helped ingathering it, lamented its loss with me. 

CHAPTER XII. FRIEDRICH FROEBEL'S IDEAL OF EDUCATION. 

Dangerous enterprises were of course forbidden, but the teachers ofthe institute neglected no means of training our bodies to endureevery exertion and peril; for Froebel was still alive, and the ideal ofeducation, for whose realization he had established the Keilhau school, had become to his assistants and followers strong and healthy realities. But Froebel's purpose did not require the culture of physical strength. His most marked postulates were the preservation and development of theindividuality of the boys entrusted to his care, and their training inGerman character and German nature; for he beheld the sum of all thetraits of higher, purer manhood united in those of the true German. 

Love for the heart, strength for the character, seemed to him thehighest gifts with which he could endow his pupils for life. 

He sought to rear the boy to unity with himself, with God, with Nature, and with mankind, and the way led to trust in God through religion, trust in himself by developing the strength of mind and body, andconfidence in mankind--that is, in others, by active relations withlife and a loving interest in the past and present destinies of ourfellow-men. This required an eye and heart open to our surroundings, sociability, and a deeper insight into history. Here Nature seems to beforgotten. But Nature comes into the category of religion, for to himreligion means: To know and feel at one with ourselves, with God, andwith man; to be loyal to ourselves, to God, and to Nature: and to remainin continual active, living relations with God. 

The teacher must lead the pupils to men as well as to God and Nature, and direct them from action to perception and thought. For action hetakes special degrees, capacity, skill, trustworthiness; for perception, consciousness, insight, clearness. Only the practical and clear-sightedman can maintain himself as a thinker, opening out as a teacher newtrains of thought, and comprehending the basis of what is alreadyacquired and the laws which govern it. 

Froebel wishes to have the child regarded as a bud on the great treeof life, and therefore each pupil needs to be considered individually, developed mentally and physically, fostered and trained as a bud on thehuge tree of the human race. Even as a system of instruction, educationought not to be a rigid plan, incapable of modification, it should beadapted to the individuality of the child, the period in which it isgrowing to maturity, and its environment. The child should be led tofeel, work, and act by its own experiences in the present and in itshome, not by the opinions of others or by fixed, prescribed rules. Fromindependent, carefully directed acts and knowledge, perceptions, andthoughts, the product of this education must come forth--a man, or, as it is elsewhere stated, a thorough German. At Keilhau he is to beperfected, converted into a finished production without a flaw. If theinstitute has fulfilled its duty to the individual, he will be:

To his native land, a brave son in the hour of peril, in the spirit ofself-sacrifice and sturdy strength. 

To the family, a faithful child and a father who will secure prosperity. 

To the state, an upright, honest, industrious citizen. 

To the army, a clear-sighted, strong, healthy, brave soldier and leader. 

To the trades, arts, and sciences, a skilled helper, an active promoter, a worker accustomed to thorough investigation, who has grown to maturityin close intercourse with Nature. 

To Jesus Christ, a faithful disciple and brother; a loving, obedientchild of God. 

To mankind, a human being according to the image of God, and notaccording to that of a fashion journal. 

No one is reared for the drawing-room; but where there is a drawing-roomin which mental gifts are fostered and truth finds an abode, a truegraduate of Keilhau will be an ornament. "No instruction in bowing andtying cravats is necessary; people learn that only too quickly, " saidFroebel. 

The right education must be a harmonious one, and must be thoroughly inunison with the necessary phenomena and demands of human life. 

Thus the Keilhau system of education must claim the whole man, his inneras well as his outer existence. Its purpose is to watch the nature ofeach individual boy, his peculiarities, traits, talents, above all, hischaracter, and afford to all the necessary development and culture. Itfollows step by step the development of the human being, from the almostinstinctive impulse to feeling, consciousness, and will. At each oneof these steps each child is permitted to have only what he can bear, understand, and assimilate, while at the same time it serves as a ladderto the next higher step of development and culture. In this wayFroebel, whose own notes, collected from different sources, we are herefollowing, hopes to guard against a defective or misdirected education;for what the pupil knows and can do has sprung, as it were, from his ownbrain. Nothing has been learned, but developed from within. Thereforethe boy who is sent into the world will understand how to use it, andpossess the means for his own further development and perfection fromstep to step. 

Every human being has a talent for some calling or vocation, andstrength for its development. It is the task of the institute tocultivate the powers which are especially requisite for the futurefulfilment of the calling appointed by Nature herself. Here, too, theadvance must be step by step. Where talent or inclination lead, everyindividual will be prepared to deal with even the greatest obstacles, and must possess even the capacity to represent externally what hasbeen perceived and thought--that is, to speak and write clearly andaccurately--for in this way the intellectual power of the individualwill first be made active and visible to others. We perceive thatFroebel strongly antagonizes the Roman postulate that knowledgeshould be imparted to boys according to a thoroughly tested method andsuccession approved by the mature human intellect, and which seem mostuseful to it for later life. 

The systematic method which, up to the time of Pestalozzi, prevailed inGermany, and is again embodied in our present mode of education, seemedto him objectionable. The Swiss reformer pointed out that the mother'sheart had instinctively found the only correct system of instruction, and set before the pedagogue the task of watching and cultivating thechild's talents with maternal love and care. He utterly rejected the oldsystem, and Froebel stationed himself as a fellow-combatant at his side, but went still further. This stand required a high degree of courageat the time of the founding of Keilhau, when Hegel's influence wasomnipotent in educational circles, for Hegel set before the school thetask of imparting culture, and forgot that it lacked the most essentialconditions; for the school can give only knowledge, while true educationdemands a close relation between the person to be educated and the worldfrom which the school, as Hegel conceived it, is widely sundered. 

Froebel recognized that the extent of the knowledge imparted to eachpupil was of less importance, and that the school could not be expectedto bestow on each individual a thoroughly completed education, but anintellect so well trained that when the time came for him to enter intorelations with the world and higher instructors he would have at hisdisposal the means to draw from both that form of culture which theschool is unable to impart. He therefore turned his back abruptly onthe old system, denied that the main object of education was to meetthe needs of afterlife, and opposed having the interests of the childsacrificed to those of the man; for the child in his eyes is sacred, anindependent blessing bestowed upon him by God, towards whom he has theone duty of restoring to those who confided it to him in a higher degreeof perfection, with unfolded mind and soul, and a body and charactersteeled against every peril. "A child, " he says, "who knows how to doright in his own childish sphere, will grow naturally into an uprightmanhood. "

With regard to instruction, his view, briefly stated, is as follows: Theboy whose special talents are carefully developed, to whom we give thepower of absorbing and reproducing everything which is connected withhis talent, will know how to assimilate, by his own work in the worldand wider educational advantages, everything which will render him aperfect and thoroughly educated man. With half the amount of preliminaryknowledge in the province of his specialty, the boy or youth dismissedby us as a harmoniously developed man, to whom we have given the methodsrequisite for the acquisition of all desirable branches of knowledge, will accomplish more than his intellectual twin who has been trainedaccording to the ideas of the Romans (and, let us add, Hegel). 

I think Froebel is right. If his educational principles were the commonproperty of mankind, we might hope for a realization of Jean Paul'sprediction that the world would end with a child's paradise. We enjoyeda foretaste of this paradise in Keilhau. But when I survey our moderngymnasia, I am forced to believe that if they should succeed inequipping their pupils with still greater numbers of rules for thefuture, the happiness of the child would be wholly sacrificed to theinterests of the man, and the life of this world would close with thebirth of overwise greybeards. I might well be tempted to devote stillmore time to the educational principles of the man who, from the depthsof his full, warm heart, addressed to parents the appeal, "Come, let uslive for our children, " but it would lead me beyond the allotted limits. 

Many of Froebel's pedagogical principles undoubtedly appear at firstsight a pallid theorem, partly a matter of course, partly impracticable. During our stay in Keilhau we never heard of these claims, concerningwhich we pupils were the subject of experiment. Far less did we feelthat we were being educated according to any fixed method. We perceivedvery little of any form of government. The relation between us and ourteachers was so natural and affectionate that it seemed as if no otherwas possible. 

Yet, when I compared our life at Keilhau with the principles previouslymentioned, I found that Barop, Middendorf, and old Langethal, as wellas the sub-teachers Bagge, Budstedt, and Schaffner, had followed them inour education, and succeeded in applying many of those which seemedthe most difficult to carry into execution. This filled me with sincereadmiration, though I soon perceived that it could have been done onlyby men in whom Froebel had transplanted his ideal, men who were no lessenthusiastic concerning their profession than he, and whose personalitypredestined them to solve successfully tasks which presenteddifficulties almost unconquerable by others. 

Every boy was to be educated according to his peculiar temperament, with special regard to his disposition, talents, and character. Althoughthere were sixty of us, this was actually done in the case of eachindividual. 

Thus the teachers perceived that the endowments of my brother, with whomI had hitherto shared everything, required a totally different system ofeducation from mine. While I was set to studying Greek, he was releasedfrom it and assigned to modern languages and the arts and sciences. Theyconsidered me better suited for a life of study, him qualified for somepractical calling or a military career. 

Even in the tasks allotted to each, and the opinions passed upon ourphysical and mental achievements, there never was any fixed standard. These teachers always kept in view the whole individual, and especiallyhis character. Thereby the parents of a Keilhau pupil were far betterinformed in many respects than those of our gymnasiasts, who so oftenyield to the temptation of estimating their sons' work by the greater orless number of errors in their Latin exercises. 

It afforded me genuine pleasure to look through the Keilhau reports. Each contained a description of character, with a criticism of the workaccomplished, partly with reference to the pupil's capacity, partly tothe demands of the school. Some are little masterpieces of psychologicalpenetration. 

Many of those who have followed these statements will ask how the Germannature and German character can be developed in the boys. 

It was thoroughly done in Keilhau. 

But the solution of the problem required men like Langethal andMiddendorf, who, even in their personal appearance models of Germanstrength and dignity, had fought for their native land, and who weresurpassed in depth and warmth of feeling by no man. 

I repeat that what Froebel termed German was really the higher traits ofhuman character; but nothing was more deeply imprinted on our souls thanlove for our native land. Here the young voices not only extolled thewarlike deeds of the brave Prussians, but recited with equal fervor allthe songs with which true patriotism has inspired German poets. Perhapsthis delight in Germanism went too far in many respects; it fosteredhatred and scorn of everything "foreign, " and was the cause of the longhair and cap, pike and broad shirt collar worn by many a pupil. Yettheir number was not very large, and Ludo, our most intimate friends, and I never joined them. 

Barop himself smiled at their "Teutonism" but indulged it, and it wasstimulated by some of the teachers, especially the magnificent Zeller, so full of vigour and joy in existence. I can still see the giganticyoung Swiss, as he made the pines tremble with his "Odin, Odin, death tothe Romans!"

One of the pupils, Count zur Lippe, whose name was Hermann, was called"Arminius, " in memory of the conqueror of Varus. But these were externalthings. 

On the other hand, how vividly, during the history lesson, Langethal, the old warrior of 1813, described the course of the conflict forliberty!

Friedrich Froebel had also pronounced esteem for manual labour to begenuinely and originally German, and therefore each pupil was assigneda place where he could wield spades and pickaxes, roll stones, sow, andreap. 

These occupations were intended to strengthen the body, according toFroebel's rules, and absorbed the greater part of the hours not devotedto instruction. 

Midway up the Dissauberg was the spacious wrestling-ground with theshooting-stand, and in the court-yard of the institute the gymnasiumfor every spare moment of the winter. There fencing was practised withfleurets (thrusting swords), not rapiers, which Barop rightly believedhad less effect upon developing the agility of youthful bodies. Evenwhen boys of twelve, Ludo and I, like most of the other pupils, had ourown excellent rifles, a Christmas gift from our mother, and how quicklyour keen young eyes learned to hit the bull's-eye! There was goodswimming in the pond of the institute, and skating was practised thereon the frozen surface of the neighbouring meadow; then we had ourcoasting parties at the "Upper House" and down the long slope of theDissau, the climbing and rambling, the wrestling and jumping overthe backs of comrades, the ditches, hedges, and fences, the gamesof prisoner's base which no Keilhau pupil will ever forget, theball-playing and the various games of running for which there was alwaystime, although at the end of the year we had acquired a sufficientamount of knowledge. The stiffest boy who came to Keilhau grew nimble, the biceps of the veriest weakling enlarged, the most timid nature wasroused to courage. Indeed, here, if anywhere, it required courage to becowardly. 

If Froebel and Langethal had seen in the principle of comradeship thebest furtherance of discipline, it was proved here; for we formedone large family, and if any act really worthy of punishment, no mereebullition of youthful spirits, was committed by any of the pupils, Barop summoned us all, formed us into a court of justice, andwe examined into the affair and fixed the penalty ourselves. Fordishonourable acts, expulsion from the institute; for grave offences, confinement to the room--a punishment which pledged even us, who imposedit, to avoid all intercourse with the culprit for a certain length oftime. For lighter misdemeanours the offender was confined to the houseor the court-yard. If trivial matters were to be censured this Areopaguswas not convened. 

And we, the judges, were rigid executors of the punishment. Baropafterwards told me that he was frequently compelled to urge us to bemore gentle. Old Froebel regarded these meetings as means for cominginto unity with life. The same purpose was served by the form of ourintercourse with one another, the pedestrian excursions, and the manyincidents related by our teachers of their own lives, especiallythe historical instruction which was connected with the history ofcivilization and so arranged as to seek to make us familiar not onlywith the deeds of nations and bloody battles, but with the life of thehuman race. 

In spite of, or on account of, the court of justice I have justmentioned, there could be no informers among us, for Barop only halflistened to the accuser, and often sent him harshly from the roomwithout summoning the school-mate whom he accused. Besides, we ourselvesknew how to punish the sycophant so that he took good care not to act astale-bearer a second time. 

 MANNERS, AND FROEBEL'S KINDERGARTEN

The wives of the teachers had even more to do with our deportment thanthe dancing-master, especially Frau Barop and her husband's sisterFrau von Born, who had settled in Keilhau on account of having her sonseducated there. 

The fact that the head-master's daughters and several girls, who werefriends or relatives of his family, shared many of our lessons, alsocontributed essentially to soften the manners of the young Germansavages. 

I mention our "manners" especially because, as I afterwards learned, they had been the subject of sharp differences of opinion betweenFriedrich Froebel and Langethal, and because the arguments of the formerare so characteristic that I deem them worthy of record. 

There could be no lack of delicacy of feeling on the part of the founderof the kindergarten system, who had said, "If you are talking with anyone, and your child comes to ask you about anything which interestshim, break off your conversation, no matter what may be the rank of theperson who is speaking to you, " and who also directed that the childshould receive not only love but respect. The first postulate showsthat he valued the demands of the soul far above social forms. Thus ithappened that during the first years of the institute, which he thengoverned himself, he was reproached with paying too little attention tothe outward forms, the "behaviour, " the manners of the boys entrustedto his care. His characteristic answer was: "I place no value on theseforms unless they depend upon and express the inner self. Where thatis thoroughly trained for life and work, externals may be left tothemselves, and will supplement the other. " The opponent admits this, but declares that the Keilhau method, which made no account of outwardform, may defer this "supplement" in a way disastrous to certain pupils. Froebel's answer is: "Certainly, a wax pear can be made much morequickly and is just as beautiful as those on the tree, which requirea much longer time to ripen. But the wax pear is only to look at, canbarely be touched, far less could it afford refreshment to the thirstyand the sick. It is empty--a mere nothing! The child's nature, it issaid, resembles wax. Very well, we don't grudge wax fruits to any onewho likes them. But nothing must be expected from them if we are ill andthirsty; and what is to become of them when temptations and trialscome, and to whom do they not come? Our educational products must matureslowly, but thoroughly, to genuine human beings whose inner selves willbe deficient in no respect. Let the tailor provide for the clothes. "

Froebel himself was certainly very careless in the choice of his. Thelong cloth coat in which I always saw him was fashioned by the villagetailor, and the old gentleman probably liked the garment because halfa dozen children hung by the tails when he crossed the court-yard. It needed to be durable; but the well-fitting coats worn by Barop andLangethal were equally so, and both men believed that the good gardenershould also care for the form of the fruit he cultivates, because, whenripe, it is more valuable if it looks well. They, too, cared nothingfor wax fruits; nay, did not even consider them because they did notrecognize them as fruit at all. 

Froebel's conversion was delayed, but after his marriage it was all themore thorough. The choice of this intellectual and kindly naturedman, who set no value on the external forms of life, was, I might say, "naturally" a very elegant woman, a native of Berlin, the widow ofthe Kriegsrath Hofmeister. She speedily opened Froebel's eyes to theaesthetic and artistic element in the lives of the boys entrusted to hiscare--the element to which Langethal, from the time of his entrance intothe institution, had directed his attention. 

So in Keilhau, too, woman was to pave the way to greater refinement. 

This had occurred long before our entrance into the institution. Froebeldid not allude to wax pears now when he saw the pupils well dressed andcourteous in manner; nay, afterwards, in establishing the kindergarten, he praised and sought to utilize the comprehensive influence uponhumanity of "woman, " the guardian of lofty morality. Wives and mothersowe him as great a debt of gratitude as children, and should neverforget the saying, "The mother's heart alone is the true source of thewelfare of the child, and the salvation of humanity. " The fundamentalnecessity of the hour is to prepare this soil for the noble humanblossom, and render it fit for its mission. 

To meet the need mentioned in this sentence the whole labour of theevening of his life was devoted. Amid many cares and in defiance ofstrong opposition he exerted his best powers for the realization of hisideal, finding courage to do so in the conviction uttered in the saying, "Only through the pure hands and full hearts of wives and mothers canthe kingdom of God become a reality. "

Unfortunately, I cannot enter more comprehensively here into the detailsof the kindergarten system--it is connected with Keilhau only in so farthat both were founded by the same man. Old Froebel was often visitedthere by female kindergarten teachers and pedagogues who wished to learnsomething of this new institute. We called the former "Schakelinen";the latter, according to a popular etymology, "Schakale. " The odd namebestowed upon the female kindergarten teachers was derived, as I learnedafterwards, from no beast of prey, but from a figure in Jean Paul's"Levana, " endowed with beautiful gifts. Her name is Madame Jacqueline, and she was used by the author to give expression to his own opinions offemale education. Froebel has adopted many suggestions of Jean Paul, butthe idea of the kindergarten arose from his own unhappy childhood. Hewished to make the first five years of life, which to him had been achain of sorrows, happy and fruitful to children--especially to thosewho, like him, were motherless. 

Sullen tempers, the rod, and the strictest, almost cruel, constrainthad overshadowed his childhood, and now his effort was directed towardshaving the whole world of little people join joyously in his favouritecry, "Friede, Freude, Freiheit!" (Peace, Pleasure, Liberty), whichcorresponds with the motto of the Jahn gymnasium, "Frisch, fromm, frohlich, frei. "

He also desired to utilize for public instruction the educationaltalents which woman undoubtedly possesses. 

As in his youth, shoulder to shoulder with Pestalozzi, he had striven torear growing boys in a motherly fashion to be worthy men, he now wishedto turn to account, for the benefit of the whole wide circle of youngerchildren, the trait of maternal solicitude which exists in every woman. Women were to be trained for teachers, and the places where childrenreceived their first instruction were to resemble nurseries as closelyas possible. He also desired to see the maternal tone prevail in thisinstruction. 

He, through whose whole life had run the echo of the Saviour's words, "Suffer little children to come unto me, " understood the child's nature, and knew that its impulse to play must be used, in order to afford itsuitable future nourishment for the mind and soul. 

The instruction, the activity, and the movements of the child shouldbe associated with the things which most interest him, and meanwhile itshould be constantly employed in some creative occupation adapted to itsintelligence. 

If, for instance, butter was spoken of, by the help of suitable motionsthe cow was milked, the milk was poured into a pan and skimmed, thecream was churned, the butter was made into pats and finally sent tomarket. Then came the payment, which required little accounts. Whenthe game was over, a different one followed, perhaps something whichrendered the little hands skilful by preparing fine weaving from stripsof paper; for Froebel had perceived that change brought rest. 

Every kindergarten should have a small garden, to afford an opportunityto watch the development of the plants, though only one at a time--forinstance, the bean. By watching the clouds in the sky he directed thechildish intelligence to the rivers, seas, and circulation of moisture. In the autumn the observation of the chrysalis state of insects wasconnected with that of the various stages of their existence. 

In this way the child can be guided in its play to a certain creativeactivity, rendered familiar with the life of Nature, the claims of thehousehold, the toil of the peasants, mechanics, etc. , and at the sametime increase its dexterity in using its fingers and the suppleness ofits body. It learns to play, to obey, and to submit to the rules of theschool, and is protected from the contradictory orders of unreasonablemothers and nurses. 

Women and girls, too, were benefitted by the kindergarten. 

Mothers, whose time, inclination, or talents, forbade them to devotesufficient time to the child, were relieved by the kindergarten. Girlslearned, as if in a preparatory school of future wife and motherhood, how to give the little one what it needed, and, as Froebel expresses it, to become the mediators between Nature and mind. 

Yet even this enterprise, the outcome of pure love for the most innocentand harmless creatures, was prohibited and persecuted as perilous tothe state under Frederick William IV, during the period of the reactionwhich followed the insurrection of 1848. 

CHAPTER XIII. THE FOUNDERS OF THE KEILHAU INSTITUTE, AND A GLIMPSE ATTHE HISTORY OF THE SCHOOL. 

I was well acquainted with the three founders of our institute--FredrichFroebel, Middendorf, and Langethal--and the two latter were my teachers. Froebel was decidedly "the master who planned it. "

When we came to Keilhau he was already sixty-six years old, a man oflofty stature, with a face which seemed to be carved with a dull knifeout of brown wood. 

His long nose, strong chin, and large ears, behind which the long locks, parted in the middle, were smoothly brushed, would have rendered himpositively ugly, had not his "Come, let us live for our children, "beamed so invitingly in his clear eyes. People did not think whether hewas handsome or not; his features bore the impress of his intellectualpower so distinctly that the first glance revealed the presence of aremarkable man. 

Yet I must confess--and his portrait agrees with my memory--that hisface by no means suggested the idealist and man of feeling; it seemedrather expressive of shrewdness, and to have been lined and worn bysevere conflicts concerning the most diverse interests. But his voiceand his glance were unusually winning, and his power over the heart ofthe child was limitless. A few words were sufficient to win completelythe shyest boy whom he desired to attract; and thus it happened that, even when he had been with us only a few weeks, he was never seencrossing the court-yard without a group of the younger pupils hanging tohis coattails and clasping his hands and arms. 

Usually they were persuading him to tell stories, and when hecondescended to do so, older ones flocked around him too, and they werenever disappointed. What fire, what animation the old man had retained!We never called him anything but "Oheim. " The word "Onkel" he detestedas foreign, because it was derived from "avunculus" and "oncle. " Withthe high appreciation he had of "Tante"--whom he termed, next to themother, the most important factor of education in the family--our"Oheim" was probably specially agreeable to him. 

He was thoroughly a self-made man. The son of a pastor in Oberweissbach, in Thuringia, he had had a dreary childhood; for his mother diedyoung, and he soon had a step-mother, who treated him with the utmosttenderness until her own children were born. Then an indescribably sadtime began for the neglected boy, whose dreamy temperament vexed evenhis own father. Yet in this solitude his love for Nature awoke. Hestudied plants, animals, minerals; and while his young heart vainlylonged for love, he would have gladly displayed affection himself, ifhis timidity would have permitted him to do so. His family, seeing himprefer to dissect the bones of some animal rather than to talk with hisparents, probably considered him a very unlovable child when they senthim, in his tenth year, to school in the city of Ilm. 

He was received into the home of the pastor, his uncle Hoffman, whosemother-in-law, who kept the house, treated him in the most cordialmanner, and helped him to conquer the diffidence acquired during thesolitude of the first years of his childhood. This excellent womanfirst made him familiar with the maternal feminine solicitude, closerobservation of which afterwards led him, as well as Pestalozzi, to areform of the system of educating youth. 

In his sixteenth year he went to a forester for instruction, but didnot remain long. Meantime he had gained some mathematical knowledge, and devoted himself to surveying. By this and similar work heearned a living, until, at the end of seven years, he went toFrankfort-on-the-Main to learn the rudiments of building. There Fatebrought him into contact with the pedagogue Gruner, a follower ofPestalozzi's method, and this experienced man, after their firstconversation, exclaimed: "You must become a schoolmaster!"

I have often noticed in life that a word at the right time and place hassufficed to give the destiny of a human being a different turn, and theremark of the Frankfort educator fell into Froebel's soul like a spark. He now saw his real profession clearly and distinctly before him. 

The restless years of wandering, during which, unloved and scarcelyheeded, he had been thrust from one place to another, had awakened inhis warm heart a longing to keep others from the same fate. He, whohad been guided by no kind hand and felt miserable and at variance withhimself, had long been ceaselessly troubled by the problem of how theyoung human plant could be trained to harmony with itself and to sturdyindustry. Gruner showed him that others were already devoting their bestpowers to solve it, and offered him an opportunity to try his ability inhis model school. 

Froebel joyfully accepted this offer, cast aside every other thought, and, with the enthusiasm peculiar to him, threw himself into the newcalling in a manner which led Gruner to praise the "fire and life" heunderstood how to awaken in his pupils. He also left it to Froebel toarrange the plan of instruction which the Frankfort Senate wantedfor the "model school, " and succeeded in keeping him two years in hisinstitution. 

When a certain Frau von Holzhausen was looking for a man who would havethe ability to lead her spoiled sons into the right path, and Froebelhad been recommended, he separated from Gruner and performed his taskwith rare fidelity and a skill bordering upon genius. The children, whowere physically puny, recovered under his care, and the grateful mothermade him their private tutor from 1807 till 1810. He chose Verdun, wherePestalozzi was then living, as his place of residence, and made himselfthoroughly familiar with his method of education. As a whole, he couldagree with him; but, as has already been mentioned, in some respects hewent further than the Swiss reformer. He himself called these years his"university course as a pedagogue, " but they also furnished him with themeans to continue the studies in natural history which he had commencedin Jena. He had laid aside for this purpose part of his salary as tutor, and was permitted, from 1810 to 1812, to complete in Gottingen hisastronomical and mineralogical studies. Yet the wish to try his powersas a pedagogue never deserted him; and when, in 1812, the position ofteacher in the Plamann Institute in Berlin was offered him, he acceptedit. During his leisure hours he devoted himself to gymnastic exercises, and even late in life his eyes sparkled when he spoke of his friend, oldJahn, and the political elevation of Prussia. 

When the summons "To my People" called the German youth to war, Froebelhad already entered his thirty-first year, but this did not prevent hisresigning his office and being one of the first to take up arms. Hewent to the field with the Lutzow Jagers, and soon after made theacquaintance among his comrades of the theological students Langethaland Middendorf. When, after the Peace of Paris, the young friendsparted, they vowed eternal fidelity, and each solemnly promised to obeythe other's summons, should it ever come. As soon as Froebel took offthe dark uniform of the black Jagers he received a position as curatorof the museum of mineralogy in the Berlin University, which he filledso admirably that the position of Professor of Mineralogy was offeredto him from Sweden. But he declined, for another vocation summoned himwhich duty and inclination forbade him to refuse. 

His brother, a pastor in the Thuringian village of Griesheim on the Ilm, died, leaving three sons who needed an instructor. The widow wished herbrother-in-law Friedrich to fill this office, and another brother, afarmer in Osterode, wanted his two boys to join the trio. When Froebel, in the spring of 1817, resigned his position, his friend Langethalbegged him to take his brother Eduard as another pupil, and thusPestalozzi's enthusiastic disciple and comrade found his dearest wishfulfilled. He was now the head of his own school for boys, and thesefirst six pupils--as he hoped with the confidence in the star of successpeculiar to so many men of genius--must soon increase to twenty. Some ofthese boys were specially gifted: one became the scholar and politicianJulius Froebel, who belonged to the Frankfort Parliament of 1848, andanother the Jena Professor of Botany, Eduard Langethal. 

The new principal of the school could not teach alone, but he onlyneeded to remind his old army comrade, Middendorf, of his promise, to induce him to interrupt his studies in Berlin, which were nearlycompleted, and join him. He also had his eye on Langethal, if his hopeshould be fulfilled. He knew what a treasure he would possess for hisobject in this rare man. 

There was great joy in the little Griesheim circle, and the Thuringian(Froebel) did not regret for a moment that he had resigned his secureposition; but the Westphalian (Middendorf) saw here the realization ofthe ideal which Froebel's kindling words had impressed upon his soulbeside many a watch-fire. 

The character of the two men is admirably described in the followingpassage from a letter of "the oldest pupil":

"Both had seen much of the serious side of life, and returned from thewar with the higher inspiration which is hallowed by deep religiousfeeling. The idea of devoting their powers with self-denial andsacrifice to the service of their native land had become a fixedresolution; the devious paths which so many men entered were far fromtheir thoughts. The youth, the young generation of their native land, were alone worthy of their efforts. They meant to train them to aharmonious development of mind and body; and upon these young peopletheir pure spirit of patriotism exerted a vast influence. When we recallthe mighty power which Froebel could exercise at pleasure over hisfellowmen, and especially over children, we shall deem it natural that achild suddenly transported into this circle could forget its past. "

When I entered it, though at that time it was much modified andestablished on firm foundations, I met with a similar experience. Itwas not only the open air, the forest, the life in Nature which socaptivated new arrivals at Keilhau, but the moral earnestness and theideal aspiration which consecrated and ennobled life. Then, too, therewas that "nerve-strengthening" patriotism which pervaded everything, filling the place of the superficial philanthropy of the Basedow systemof education. 

But Froebel's influence was soon to draw, as if by magnetic power, theman who had formed an alliance with him amid blood and steel, and whowas destined to lend the right solidity to the newly erected structureof the institute--I mean Heinrich Langethal, the most beloved andinfluential of my teachers, who stood beside Froebel's inspiring geniusand Middendorf's lovable warmth of feeling as the character, and at thesame time the fully developed and trained intellect, whose guidance wasso necessary to the institute. 

The life of this rare teacher can be followed step by step from thefirst years of his childhood in his autobiography and many otherdocuments, but I can only attempt here to sketch in broad outlines thecharacter of the man whose influence upon my whole inner life has been, up to the present hour, a decisive one. 

The recollection of him makes me inclined to agree with the opinion towhich a noble lady sought to convert me--namely, that our lives are farmore frequently directed into a certain channel by the influence ofan unusual personality than by events, experiences, or individualreflections. 

Langethal was my teacher for several years. When I knew him he wastotally blind, and his eyes, which are said to have flashed so brightlyand boldly on the foe in war, and gazed so winningly into the faces offriends in time of peace, had lost their lustre. But his noble featuresseemed transfigured by the cheerful earnestness which is peculiar to theold man, who, even though only with the eye of the mind, looks back upona well-spent, worthy life, and who does not fear death, because he knowsthat God who leads all to the goal allotted by Nature destined him alsofor no other. His tall figure could vie with Barop's, and his musicalvoice was unusually deep. It possessed a resistless power when, excitedhimself, he desired to fill our young souls with his own enthusiasm. Theblind old man, who had nothing more to command and direct, moved throughour merry, noisy life like a silent admonition to good and noble things. Outside of the lessons he never raised his voice for orders or censure, yet we obediently followed his signs. To be allowed to lead him wasan honor and pleasure. He made us acquainted with Homer, and taught usancient and modern history. To this day I rejoice that not one of usever thought of using 'pons asinorum, ' or copied passage, though he wasperfectly sightless, and we were obliged to translate to him and learnby heart whole sections of the Iliad. To have done so would have seemedas shameful as the pillage of an unguarded sanctuary or the abuse of awounded hero. 

And he certainly was one!

We knew this from his comrades in the war and his stories of 1813, whichwere at once so vivid and so modest. 

When he explained Homer or taught ancient history a special fervoranimated him; for he was one of the chosen few whose eyes were opened bydestiny to the full beauty and sublimity of ancient Greece. 

I have listened at the university to many a famous interpreter of theHellenic and Roman poets, and many a great historian, but not one ofthem ever gave me so distinct an impression of living with the ancientsas Heinrich Langethal. There was something akin to them in his pure, lofty soul, ever thirsting for truth and beauty, and, besides, he hadgraduated from the school of a most renowned teacher. 

The outward aspect of the tall old man was eminently aristocratic, yethis birthplace was the house of a plain though prosperous mechanic. Hewas born at Erfurt, in 1792. When very young his father, a man unusuallysensible and well-informed for his station in life, entrusted him withthe education of a younger brother, the one who, as I have mentioned, afterwards became a professor at Jena, and the boy's progress was sorapid that other parents had requested to have their sons share thehours of instruction. 

After completing his studies at the grammar-school he wanted to go toBerlin, for, though the once famous university still existed in Erfurt, it had greatly deteriorated. His description of it is half lamentable, half amusing, for at that time it was attended by thirty students, forwhom seventy professors were employed. Nevertheless, there were manyobstacles to be surmounted ere he could obtain permission to attendthe Berlin University; for the law required every native of Erfurt, whointended afterwards to aspire to any office, to study at least twoyears in his native city--at that time French. But, in defiance of allhindrances, he found his way to Berlin, and in 1811 was entered in theuniversity just established there as the first student from Erfurt. Hewished to devote himself to theology, and Neander, De Wette, Marheineke, Schleiermacher, etc. , must have exerted a great power of attraction overa young man who desired to pursue that study. 

At the latter's lectures he became acquainted with Middendorf. Atfirst he obtained little from either. Schleiermacher seemed to himtoo temporizing and obscure. "He makes veils. " He thought the youngWestphalian, at their first meeting, merely "a nice fellow. " But intime he learned to understand the great theologian, and the "favouriteteacher" noticed him and took him into his house. 

But first Fichte, and then Friedrich August Wolf, attracted him farmore powerfully than Schleiermacher. Whenever he spoke of Wolf his calmfeatures glowed and his blind eyes seemed to sparkle. He owed all thatwas best in him to the great investigator, who sharpened his pupil'sappreciation of the exhaustless store of lofty ideas and the magic ofbeauty contained in classic antiquity, and had he been allowed to followhis own inclination, he would have turned his back on theology, todevote all his energies to the pursuit of philology and archaeology. 

The Homeric question which Wolf had propounded in connection withGoethe, and which at that time stirred the whole learned world, had alsomoved Langethal so deeply that, even when an old man, he enjoyed nothingmore than to speak of it to us and make us familiar with the pros andcons which rendered him an upholder of his revered teacher. He had beenallowed to attend the lectures on the first four books of the Iliad, and--I have living witnesses of the fact--he knew them all verse byverse, and corrected us when we read or recited them as if he had thecopy in his hand. 

True, he refreshed his naturally excellent memory by having them allread aloud. I shall never forget his joyous mirth as he listened to mydelivery of Wolf's translation of Aristophanes's Acharnians; but I waspleased that he selected me to supply the dear blind eyes. Whenever hecalled me for this purpose he already had the book in the side pocketof his long coat, and when, beckoning significantly, he cried, "Come, Bear, " I knew what was before me, and would have gladly resigned themost enjoyable game, though he sometimes had books read which were byno means easy for me to understand. I was then fourteen or fifteen yearsold. 

Need I say that it was my intercourse with this man which implanted inmy heart the love of ancient days that has accompanied me throughout mylife?

The elevation of the Prussian nation led Langethal also from theuniversity to the war. Rumor first brought to Berlin the tidings ofthe destruction of the great army on the icy plains of Russia; thenits remnants, starving, worn, ragged, appeared in the capital; and thestreet-boys, who not long before had been forced by the French soldiersto clean their boots, now with little generosity--they were only"street-boys"--shouted sneeringly, "Say, mounseer, want your bootsblacked?"

Then came the news of the convention of York, and at last the irresoluteking put an end to the doubts and delays which probably stirred theblood of every one who is familiar with Droysen's classic "Life ofField-Marshal York. " From Breslau came the summons "To my People, "which, like a warm spring wind, melted the ice and woke in the hearts ofthe German youth a matchless budding and blossoming. 

The snow-drops which bloomed during those March days of 1813 usheredin the long-desired day of freedom, and the call "To arms!" found theloudest echo in the hearts of the students. It stirred the young, yeteven in those days circumspect Langethal, too, and showed him hisduty But difficulties confronted him; for Pastor Ritschel, a native ofErfurt, to whom he confided his intention, warned him not to write tohis father. Erfurt, his own birthplace, was still under French rule, and were he to communicate his plan in writing and the letter should beopened in the "black room, " with other suspicious mail matter, it mightcost the life of the man whose son was preparing to commit high-treasonby fighting against the ruler of his country--Napoleon, the Emperor ofFrance. 

"Where will you get the uniform, if your father won't help you, andyou want to join the black Jagers?" asked the pastor, and received theanswer:

"The cape of my cloak will supply the trousers. I can have a red collarput on my cloak, my coat can be dyed black and turned into a uniform, and I have a hanger. "

"That's right!" cried the worthy minister, and gave his young friend tenthalers. 

Middendorf, too, reported to the Lutzow Jagers at once, and so did theson of Professor Bellermann, and their mutual friend Bauer, spite of hisdelicate health which seemed to unfit him for any exertion. 

They set off on the 11th of April, and while the spring was buddingalike in the outside world and in young breasts, a new flower offriendship expanded in the hearts of these three champions of the samesacred cause; for Langethal and Middendorf found their Froebel. This wasin Dresden, and the league formed there was never to be dissolved. Theykept their eyes fixed steadfastly on the ideals of youth, until in oldage the sight of all three failed. Part of the blessings which werepromised to the nation when they set forth to battle they were permittedto see seven lustra later, in 1848, but they did not live to experiencethe realization of their fairest youthful dream, the union of Germany. 

I must deny myself the pleasure of describing the battles and themarches of the Lutzow corps, which extended to Aachen and Oudenarde; butwill mention here that Langethal rose to the rank of sergeant, and hadto perform the duties of a first lieutenant; and that, towards the endof the campaign, Middendorf was sent with Lieutenant Reil to induceBlucher to receive the corps in his vanguard. The old commandergratified their wish; they had proved their fitness for the post whenthey won the victory at the Gohrde, where two thousand Frenchmen werekilled and as many more taken prisoners. The sight of the battlefieldhad seemed unendurable to the gentle nature of Middendorf he had formeda poetical idea of the campaign as an expedition against the hereditaryfoe. Now that he had confronted the bloodstained face of war with allits horrors, he fell into a state of melancholy from which he couldscarcely rouse himself. 

After this battle the three friends were quartered in Castle Gohrde, and there enjoyed a delightful season of rest after months of severehardships. Their corps had been used as the extreme vanguard againstDavoust's force, which was thrice their superior in numbers, and inconsequence they were subjected to great fatigues. They had almostforgotten how it seemed to sleep in a bed and eat at a table. One nightmarch had followed another. They had often seized their food from thekettles and eaten it at the next stopping-place, but all was cheerfullydone; the light-heartedness of youth did not vanish from theirenthusiastic hearts. There was even no lack of intellectual aliment, fora little field-library had been established by the exchange of books. Langethal told us of his night's rest in a ditch, which was to entaildisastrous consequences. Utterly exhausted, sleep overpowered him in themidst of a pouring rain, and when he awoke he discovered that he was upto his neck in water. His damp bed--the ditch--had gradually filled, butthe sleep was so profound that even the rising moisture had not rousedhim. The very next morning he was attacked with a disease of the eyes, to which he attributed his subsequent blindness. 

On the 26th of August there was a prospect of improvement in thecondition of the corps. Davoust had sent forty wagons of provisionsto Hamburg, and the men were ordered to capture them. The attack wassuccessful, but at what a price! Theodor Korner, the noble young poetwhose songs will commemorate the deeds of the Lutzow corps so long asGerman men and boys sing his "Thou Sword at my Side, " or raise theirvoices in the refrain of the Lutzow Jagers' song:

"Do you ask the name of yon reckless band? 'Tis Lutzow's black troopersdashing swift through the land!"

Langethal first saw the body of the author of "Lyre and Sword" and"Zriny" under an oak at Wobbelin; but he was to see it once more underquite different circumstances. He has mentioned it in his autobiography, and I have heard him describe several times his visit to the corpse ofTheodor Korner. 

He had been quartered in Wobbelin, and shared his room with an Oberjagervon Behrenhorst, son of the postmaster-general in Dessau, who had takenpart in the battle of Jena as a young lieutenant and returned home witha darkened spirit. 

At the summons "To my People, " he had enlisted at once as a privatesoldier in the Lutzow corps, where he rose rapidly to the rank ofOberjager. During the war he had often met Langethal and Middendorf;but the quiet, reserved man, prematurely grave for his years, attachedhimself so closely to Korner that he needed no other friend. 

After the death of the poet on the 26th of August, 1813, he movedsilently about as though completely crushed. On the night which followedthe 27th he invited his room-mate Langethal to go with him to the bodyof his friend. Both went first to the village church, where the deadJagers lay in two long black rows. A solemn stillness pervaded thelittle house of God, which had become during this night the abode ofdeath, and the nocturnal visitors gazed silently at the pallid, rigidfeatures of one lifeless young form after another, but without findinghim whom they sought. 

During this mute review of corpses it seemed to Langethal as if Deathwere singing a deep, heartrending choral, and he longed to pray forthese young, crushed human blossoms; but his companion led the way intothe guard's little room. There lay the poet, "the radiance of an angelon his face, " though his body bore many traces of the fury of thebattle. Deeply moved, Langethal stood gazing down upon the form of theman who had died for his native land, while Behrenhorst knelt on thefloor beside him, silently giving himself up to the anguish of his soul. He remained in this attitude a long time, then suddenly started up, threw his arms upward, and exclaimed, "Korner, I'll follow you!"

With these words Behrenhorst darted out of the little room into thedarkness; and a few weeks after he, too, had fallen for the sacred causeof his native land. 

They had seen another beloved comrade perish in the battle of Gohrde, ahandsome young man of delicate figure and an unusually reserved manner. 

Middendorf, with whom he--his name was Prohaska--had been on moreintimate terms than the others, once asked him, when he timidly avoidedthe girls and women who cast kindly glances at him, if his heart neverbeat faster, and received the answer, "I have but one love to give, andthat belongs to our native land. "

While the battle was raging, Middendorf was fighting close beside hiscomrade. When the enemy fired a volley the others stooped, but Prohaskastood erect, exclaiming, when he was warned, "No bowing! I'll make noobeisance to the French!"

A few minutes after, the brave soldier, stricken by a bullet, fellon the greensward. His friends bore him off the field, andProhaska--Eleonore Prohaska--proved to be a girl!

While in Castle Gohrde, Froebel talked with his friends about hisfavourite plan, which he had already had a view in Gottingen, ofestablishing a school for boys, and while developing his educationalideal to them and at the same time mentioning that he had passed histhirtieth birthday, and alluding to the postponement of his plan by thewar, he exclaimed, to explain why he had taken up arms:

"How can I train boys whose devotion I claim, unless I have proved by myown deeds how a man should show devotion to the general welfare?"

These words made a deep impression upon the two friends, and increasedMiddendorf's enthusiastic reverence for the older comrade, whoseexperiences and ideas had opened a new world to him. 

The Peace of Paris, and the enrolment of the Lutzow corps in the line, brought the trio back to Berlin to civil life. 

There also each frequently sought the others, until, in the springof 1817, Froebel resigned the permanent position in the Bureau ofMineralogy in order to establish his institute. 

Middendorf had been bribed by the saying of his admired friend that he"had found the unity of life. " It gave the young philosopher food forthought, and, because he felt that he had vainly sought this unity andwas dissatisfied, he hoped to secure it through the society of theman who had become everything to him His wish was fulfilled, for as aneducator he grew as it were into his own motto, "Lucid, genuine, andtrue to life. "

Middendorf gave up little when he followed Froebel. 

The case was different with Langethal. He had entered as a tutor theBendemann household at Charlottenburg, where he found a second home. Hetaught with brilliant success children richly gifted in mind and heart, whose love he won. It was "a glorious family" which permitted him toshare its rich social life, and in whose highly gifted circle hecould be sure of finding warm sympathy in his intellectual interests. Protected from all external anxieties, he had under their roof ampleleisure for industrious labour and also for intercourse with his ownfriends. 

In July, 1817, he passed the last examination with the greatestdistinction, receiving the "very good, " rarely bestowed; and a brilliantcareer lay before him. 

Directly after this success three pulpits were offered to him, but heaccepted neither, because he longed for rest and quiet occupation. 

The summons from Froebel to devote himself to his infant institute, where Langethal had placed his younger brother, also reached him. Thelittle school moved on St. John's Day, 1817, from Griesheim to Keilhau, where the widow of Pastor Froebel had been offered a larger farm. Theplace which she and her children's teacher found was wonderfully adaptedto Froebel's purpose, and seemed to promise great advantages both to thepupils and to the institute. There was much building and arranging tobe accomplished, but means to do so were obtained, and the first pupildescribed very amusingly the entrance into the new home, the furnishing, the discovery of all the beauties and advantages which we found asan old possession in Keilhau, and the endeavour, so characteristic ofMiddendorf, to adapt even the less attractive points to his own poeticideas. 

Only the hours of instruction fared badly, and Froebel felt that heneeded a man of fully developed strength in order to give the properfoundation to the instruction of the boys who were entrusted to hiscare. He knew a man of this stamp in the student F. A. Wolfs, whosetalent for teaching had been admirably proved in the Bendemann family. 

"Langethal, " as the first pupil describes him, was at that time a veryhandsome man of five-and-twenty years. His brow was grave, but hisfeatures expressed kindness of heart, gentleness, and benevolence. Thedignity of his whole bearing was enhanced by the sonorous tones of hisvoice--he retained them until old age--and his whole manner revealedmanly firmness. Middendorf was more pleasing to women, Langethal to men. Middendorf attracted those who saw, Langethal those who heard him, andthe confidence he inspired was even more lasting than that aroused byMiddendorf. 

What marvel that Froebel made every effort to win this rare power forthe young institute? But Langethal declined, to the great vexation ofMiddendorf. Diesterweg called the latter "a St. John, " but our dear, blind teacher added, "And Froebel was his Christus. "

The enthusiastic young Westphalian, who had once believed he saw inthis man every masculine virtue, and whose life appeared emblematical, patiently accepted everything, and considered every one a "renegade" whohad ever followed Froebel and did not bow implicitly to his will. So hewas angered by Langethal's refusal. The latter had been offered, withbrilliant prospects for the present and still fairer ones for thefuture, a position as a tutor in Silesia, a place which secured him therest he desired, combined with occupation suited to his tastes. He wasto share the labour of teaching with another instructor, who was to takecharge of the exact sciences, with which he was less familiar, and hewas also permitted to teach his brother with the young Counts Stolberg. 

He accepted, but before going to Silesia he wished to visit hisKeilhau friends and take his brother away with him. He did so, and the"diplomacy" with which Froebel succeeded in changing the decision of theresolute young man and gaining him over to his own interests, isreally remarkable. It won for the infant institute in the person ofLangethal--if the expression is allowable--the backbone. 

Froebel had sent Middendorf to meet his friend, and the latter, on theway, told him of the happiness which he had found in his new home andoccupation. Then they entered Keilhau, and the splendid landscape whichsurrounds it needs no praise. 

Froebel received his former comrade with the utmost cordiality, and thesight of the robust, healthy, merry boys who were lying on the floorthat evening, building forts and castles with the wooden blocks whichFroebel had had made for them according to his own plan, excited thekeenest interest. He had come to take his brother away; but when he sawhim, among other happy companions of his own age, complete the fineststructure of all--a Gothic cathedral--it seemed almost wrong to tear thechild from this circle. 

He gazed sadly at his brother when he came to bid him "good-night, " andthen remained alone with Froebel. The latter was less talkative thanusual, waiting for his friend to tell him of the future which awaitedhim in Silesia. When he heard that a second tutor was to relieveLangethal of half his work, he exclaimed, with the greatest anxiety:

"You do not know him, and yet intend to finish a work of education withhim? What great chances you are hazarding!"

The next morning Froebel asked his friend what goal in life he had setbefore him, and Langethal replied:

"Like the apostle, I would fain proclaim the gospel to all men accordingto the best of my powers, in order to bring them into close communionwith the Redeemer. "

Froebel answered, thoughtfully:

"If you desire that, you must, like the apostles, know men. You mustbe able to enter into the life of every one--here a peasant, there amechanic. If you can not, do not hope for success; your influence willnot extend far. "

How wise and convincing the words sounded! And Froebel touched thesensitive spot in the young minister, who was thoroughly imbued withthe sacred beauty of his life-task, yet certainly knew the Gospels, his classic authors, and apostolic fathers much better than he did theworld. 

He thoughtfully followed Froebel, who, with Middendorf and the boys, ledhim up the Steiger, the mountain whose summit afforded the magnificentview I have described. It was the hour when the setting sun pours itsmost exquisite light over the mountains and valleys. The heart of theyoung clergyman, tortured by anxious doubts, swelled at the sight ofthis magnificence, and Froebel, seeing what was passing in his mind, exclaimed:

"Come, comrade, let us have one of our old war-songs. "

The musical "black Jager" of yore willingly assented; and how clearlyand enthusiastically the chorus of boyish voices chimed in!

When it died away, the older man passed his arm around his friend'sshoulders, and, pointing to the beautiful region lying before them inthe sunset glow, exclaimed:

"Why seek so far away what is close at hand? A work is establishedhere which must be built by the hand of God! Implicit devotion andself-sacrifice are needed. "

While speaking, he gazed steadfastly into his friend's tearful eyes, asif he had found his true object in life, and when he held out his handLangethal clasped it--he could not help it. 

That very day a letter to the Counts Stolberg informed them that theymust seek another tutor for their sons, and Froebel and Keilhau couldcongratulate themselves on having gained their Langethal. 

The management of the school was henceforward in the hands of a man ofcharacter, while the extensive knowledge and the excellent method of awell-trained scholar had been obtained for the educational department. The new institute now prospered rapidly. The renown of the fresh, healthful life and the able tuition of the pupils spread far beyondthe limits of Thuringia. The material difficulties with which thehead-master had had to struggle after the erection of the large newbuildings were also removed when Froebel's prosperous brother inOsterode decided to take part in the work and move to Keilhau. Heunderstood farming, and, by purchasing more land and woodlands, transformed the peasant holding into a considerable estate. 

When Froebel's restless spirit drew him to Switzerland to undertake neweducational enterprises, and some one was needed who could direct thebusiness management, Barop, the steadfast man of whom I have alreadyspoken, was secured. Deeply esteemed and sincerely beloved, he managedthe institute during the time that we three brothers were pupilsthere. He had found many things within to arrange on a more practicalfoundation, many without to correct: for the long locks of most ofthe pupils; the circumstance that three Lutzen Jagers, one of whom haddelivered the oration at a students' political meeting, had establishedthe school; that Barop had been persecuted as a demagogue on accountof his connection with a students' political society; and, finally, Froebel's relations with Switzerland and the liberal educationalmethods of the school, had roused the suspicions of the Berlindemagogue-hunters, and therefore demagogic tendencies, from which inreality it had always held aloof, were attributed to the institute. 

Yes, we were free, in so far that everything which could restrict orretard our physical and mental development was kept away from us, andour teachers might call themselves so because, with virile energy, theyhad understood how to protect the institute from every injurious andnarrowing outside influence. The smallest and the largest pupil wasfree, for he was permitted to be wholly and entirely his natural self, so long as he kept within the limits imposed by the existing laws. Butlicense was nowhere more sternly prohibited than at Keilhau; and thedeep religious feeling of its head-masters--Barop, Langethal, andMiddendorf--ought to have taught the suspicious spies in Berlin that thecommand, "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, " would neverbe violated here. 

The time I spent in Keilhau was during the period of the worst reaction, and I now know that our teachers would have sat on the Left in thePrussian Landtag; yet we never heard a disrespectful word spoken ofFrederick William IV, and we were instructed to show the utmost respectto the prince of the little country of Rudolstadt to which Keilhaubelonged. Barop, spite of his liberal tendencies, was highly esteemed bythis petty sovereign, decorated with an order, and raised to the rank ofCouncillor of Education. From a hundred isolated recollections and wordswhich have lingered in my memory I have gathered that our teacherswere liberals in a very moderate way, yet they were certainly guilty of"demagogic aspirations" in so far as that they desired for their nativeland only what we, thank Heaven, now possess its unity, and a popularrepresentation, by a free election of all its states, in a GermanParliament. What enthusiasm for the Emperor William, Bismarck, and VonMoltke, Langethal, Middendorf, and Barop would have inspired in ourhearts had they been permitted to witness the great events of 1870 and1871!

Besides, politics were kept from us, and this had become known in widercircles when we entered the institute, for most of the pupils belongedto loyal families. Many were sons of the higher officials, officers, and landed proprietors; and as long locks had long since become theexception, and the Keilhau pupils were as well mannered as possible, many noblemen, among them chamberlains and other court officials, decided to send their boys to the institute. 

The great manufacturers and merchants who placed their sons in theinstitute were also not men favourable to revolution, and many of ourcomrades became officers in the German army. Others are able scholars, clergymen, and members of Parliament; others again government officials, who fill high positions; and others still are at the head of largeindustrial or mercantile enterprises. I have not heard of a singleindividual who has gone to ruin, and of very many who have accomplishedthings really worthy of note. But wherever I have met an old pupil ofKeilhau, I have found in him the same love for the institute, have seenhis eyes sparkle more brightly when we talked of Langethal, Middendorf, and Barop. Not one has turned out a sneak or a hypocrite. 

The present institution is said to be an admirable one; but the"Realschule" of Keilhau, which has been forced to abandon its formerhumanistic foundation, can scarcely train to so great a variety ofcallings the boys now entrusted to its care. 

CHAPTER XIV. RUDOLSTADT

The little country of Rudolstadt in which Keilhau lies had had itsrevolution, though it was but a small and bloodless one. True, theinsurrection had nothing to do with human beings, but involved thedestruction of living creatures. Greater liberty in hunting wasdemanded. 

This might seem a trivial matter, yet it was of the utmost importance toboth disputants. The wide forests of the country had hitherto beenthe hunting-grounds of the prince, and not a gun could be fired therewithout his permission. To give up these "happy hunting-grounds" wasa severe demand upon the eager sportsman who occupied the Rudolstadtthrone, and the rustic population would gladly have spared him had itbeen possible. 

But the game in Rudolstadt had become a veritable torment, whichdestroyed the husbandmen's hopes of harvests. The peasant, to save hisfields from the stags and does which broke into them in herds at sunset, tried to keep them out by means of clappers and bad odours. I have seenand smelled the so-called "Frenchman's oil" with which the posts weresmeared, that its really diabolical odour--I don't know from whathorrors it was compounded--might preserve the crops. The ornament ofthe forests had become the object of the keenest hate, and as soonas--shortly before we entered Keilhau--hunting was freely permitted, thepeasants gave full vent to their rage, set off for the woods with theold muskets they had kept hidden in the garrets, or other stillmore primitive weapons, and shot or struck down all the game theyencountered. Roast venison was cheap for weeks on Rudolstadt tables, andthe pupils had many an unexpected pleasure. 

The hunting exploits of the older scholars were only learned by usyounger ones as secrets, and did not reach the teachers' ears until longafter. 

But the woods furnished other pleasures besides those enjoyed by thesportsman. Every ramble through the forest enriched our knowledge ofplants and animals, and I soon knew the different varieties of stonesalso; yet we did not suspect that this knowledge was imparted accordingto a certain system. We were taught as it were by stealth, and how manypleasant, delicious things attracted us to the class-rooms on the woodedheights!

Vegetation was very abundant in the richly watered mountain valley. Ourfavourite spring was the Schaalbach at the foot of the Steiger, --[Wepupils bought it of the peasant who owned it and gave it toBarop. ]--because there was a fowling-floor connected with it, whereI spent many a pleasant evening. It could be used only afterbreeding-time, and consisted of a hut built of boughs where thebirdcatcher lodged. Flowing water rippled over the little wooden rodson which the feathered denizens of the woods alighted to quench theirthirst before going to sleep. When some of them--frequently six at atime--had settled on the perches in the trough, it was drawn into thebut by a rope, a net was spread over the water and there was nothingmore to do except take the captives out. 

The name of the director of this amusement was Merbod. He could imitatethe voices of all the birds, and was a merry, versatile fellow, who knewhow to do a thousand things, and of whom we boys were very fond. 

The peasant Bredernitz often took us to his crow-hut, which was a holein the ground covered with boughs and pieces of turf, where the hunterslay concealed. The owl, which lured the crows and other birds of prey, was fastened on a perch, and when they flew up, often in large flocks, to tease the old cross-patch which sat blinking angrily, they were shotdown from loop-holes which had been left in the hut. The hawks whichprey upon doves and hares, the crows and magpies, can thus easily bedecimated. 

We had learned to use our guns in the playground. The utmost caution wasenforced, and although, as I have already remarked, we handled our ownguns when we were only lads of twelve years old, I can not recall asingle accident which occurred. 

Once, during the summer, there was a Schutzenfest, in which a largewooden eagle was shot from the pole. Whoever brought down the lastsplinter became king. This honour once fell to my share, and I waspermitted to choose a queen. I crowned Marie Breimann, a pretty, slenderyoung girl from Brunswick, whose Greek profile and thick silken hair hadcaptivated my fancy. She and Adelheid Barop, the head-master's daughter, were taught in our classes, but Marie attracted me more strongly thanthe diligent Keilhau lassies with their beautiful black eyes andthe other two blooming and graceful Westphalian girls who were alsoschoolmates. But the girls occupied a very small place in our lives. They could neither wrestle, shoot, nor climb, so we gave them littlethought, and anything like actual flirtation was unknown--we had so manybetter things in our heads. Wrestling and other sports threw everythingelse into the shade. Pretty Marie, however, probably suspected whichof my school-mates I liked best, and up to the time of my leaving theinstitute I allowed no other goddess to rival her. But there were plentyof amusements at Keilhau besides bird-shooting. 

I will mention the principal ones which came during the year, for todescribe them in regular order would be impossible. 

Of the longer walks which we took in the spring and summer the mostbeautiful was the one leading through Blankenburg to the entrance of theSchwarzathal, and thence through the lofty, majestically formed groupof cliffs at whose foot the clear, swift Schwarza flows, dashing andfoaming, to Schwarzburg. 

How clearly our songs echoed from the granite walls of the river valley, and how lively it always was at "The Stag, " whose landlord possessed acertain power of attraction to us boys in his own person; for, as thestoutest man in Thuringia, he was a feast for the eyes! His jollityequalled his corpulence, and how merrily he used to jest with us lads!

Of the shorter expeditions I will mention only the two we took mostfrequently, which led us in less than an hour to Blankenburg orGreifenstein, a large ruin, many parts of which were in tolerablepreservation. It had been the home of Count Gunther von Schwarzburg, whopaid with his life for the honour of wearing the German imperial crown afew short months. 

We also enjoyed being sent to the little town of Blankenburg on errands, for it was the home of our drawing-master, the artist Unger, one ofthose original characters whom we rarely meet now. When we knew him, thehandsome, broad-shouldered man, with his thick red beard, looked asone might imagine Odin. Summer and winter his dress was a grey woollenjacket, into which a short pipe was thrust, and around his hips a broadleather belt, from which hung a bag containing his drawing materials. He cared nothing for public opinion, and, as an independent bachelor, desired nothing except "to be let alone, " for he professed the utmostcontempt for the corrupt brood yclept "mankind. " He never came to ourentertainments, probably because he would be obliged to wear somethingin place of his woollen jacket, and because he avoided women, whomhe called "the roots of all evil. " I still remember how once, afteremptying the vials of his wrath upon mankind, he said, in reply to thequestion whether he included Barop among the iniquitous brood, "Why, ofcourse not; he doesn't belong to it!"

There was no lack of opportunity to visit him, for a great many personsemployed to work for the school lived in Blankenburg, and we were knownto be carefully watched there. 

I remember two memorable expeditions to the little town. Once my brotherburned his arm terribly during a puppet-show by the explosion of somepowder provided for the toy cannon. 

The poor fellow suffered so severely that I could not restrain my tears, and though it was dark, and snow lay on the mountains, off I went toBlankenburg to get the old surgeon, calling to some of my school-matesat the door to tell them of my destination. It was no easy matter towade through the snow; but, fortunately, the stars gave me sufficientlight to keep in the right path as I dashed down the mountain toBlankenburg. How often I plunged into ditches filled with snow andslid down short descents I don't know; but as I write these lines I canvividly remember the relief with which I at last trod the pavement ofthe little town. Old Wetzel was at home, and a carriage soon conveyed usover the only road to the institute. I was not punished. Barop only laidhis hand on my head, and said, "I am glad you are back again, Bear. "

Another trip to Blankenburg entailed results far more serious--nay, almost cost me my life. 

I was then fifteen, and one Sunday afternoon I went with Barop'spermission to visit the Hamburgers, but on condition that I shouldreturn by nine o'clock at latest. 

Time, however, slipped by in pleasant conversation until a later hour, and as thunder-clouds were rising my host tried to keep me overnight. But I thought this would not be allowable, and, armed with an umbrella, I set off along the road, with which I was perfectly familiar. 

But the storm soon burst, and it grew so dark that, except when thelightning flashed, I could not see my hand before my face. Yet on Iwent, though wondering that the path along which I groped my way ledupward, until the lightning showed me that, by mistake, I had taken theroad to Greifenstein. I turned back, and while feeling my way throughthe gloom the earth seemed to vanish under my feet, and I plungedheadlong into a viewless gulf--not through empty space, however, but awet, tangled mass which beat against my face, until at last there was ajerk which shook me from head to foot. 

I no longer fell, but I heard above me the sound of something tearing, and the thought darted through my mind that I was hanging bymy trousers. Groping around, I found vine-leaves, branches, andlattice-work, to which I clung, and tearing away with my foot the clothwhich had caught on the end of a lath, I again brought my head whereit should be, and discovered that I was hanging on a vine-clad wall. Aflash of lightning showed me the ground not very far below and, by thehelp of the espalier and the vines I at last stood in a garden. 

Almost by a miracle I escaped with a few scratches; but when Iafterwards went to look at the scene of this disaster cold chills randown my back, for half the distance whence I plunged into the gardenwould have been enough to break my neck. 

Our games were similar to those which lads of the same age play now, butthere were some additional ones that could only take place in a woodedmountain valley like Keilhau; such, for instance, were our Indiangames, which engrossed us at the time when we were pleased with Cooper's"Leather-Stocking, " but I need not describe them. 

When I was one of the older pupils a party of us surprised some"Panzen"--as we called the younger ones--one hot afternoon engaged ina very singular game of their own invention. They had undressed to theskin in the midst of the thickest woods and were performing Paradiseand the Fall of Man, as they had probably just been taught in theirreligious lesson. For the expulsion of Adam and our universal motherEve, the angel--in this case there were two of them--used, instead ofthe flaming sword, stout hazel rods, with which they performed theirpart of warders so overzealously that a quarrel followed, which we olderones stopped. 

Thus many bands of pupils invented games of their own, but, thankHeaven, rarely devised such absurdities. Our later Homeric battles anyteacher would have witnessed with pleasure. Froebel would have greetedthem as signs of creative imagination and "individual life" in the boys. 

CHAPTER XV. SUMMER PLEASURES AND RAMBLES

Wholly unlike these, genuinely and solely a product of Keilhau, wasthe great battle-game which we called Bergwacht, one of my brightestmemories of those years. 

Long preparations were needed, and these, too, were delightful. 

On the wooded plain at the summit of the Kolm, a mountain which belongedmainly to the institute, war was waged during the summer every Saturdayevening until far into the night, whenever the weather was fine, whichdoes not happen too often in Thuringia. 

The whole body of pupils was divided into three, afterwards into foursections, each of which had its own citadel. After two had declaredwar against two others, the battle raged until one party captured thestrongholds of the other. This was done as soon as a combatant had setfoot on the hearth of a hostile fortress. 

The battle itself was fought with stakes blunted at the tops. Every onetouched by the weapon of an enemy must declare himself a prisoner. Toadmit this, whenever it happened, was a point of honour. 

In order to keep all the combatants in action, a fourth division wasadded soon after our arrival, and of course it was necessary to build astrong hold like the others. This consisted of a hut with a stone roof, in which fifteen or twenty boys could easily find room and rest, astrong wall which protected us up to our foreheads, and surrounded thefront of the citadel in a semicircle, as well as a large altar-likehearth which rose in the midst of the semicircular space surrounded bythe wall. 

We built this fortress ourselves, except that our teacher ofhandicrafts, the sapper Sabum, sometimes gave us a hint. The first thingwas to mark out the plan, then with the aid of levers pry the rocks outof the fields, and by means of a two-wheeled cart convey them to thesite chosen, fit them neatly together, stuff the interstices with moss, and finally put on a roof made of pine logs which we felled ourselves, earth, moss, and branches. 

How quickly we learned to use the plummet, take levels, hew the stone, wield the axes! And what a delight it was when the work was finishedand we saw our own building! Perhaps we might not have accomplished itwithout the sapper, but every boy believed that if he were cast, likeRobinson Crusoe, on a desert island, he could build a hut of his own. 

As soon as this citadel was completed, preparations for the impendingbattle were made. The walls and encircling walls of all were prepared, and we were drilled in the use of the poles. This, too, afforded us theutmost pleasure. Touching the head of an enemy was strictly prohibited;yet many a slight wound was given while fighting in the gloom of thewoods. 

Each of the four Bergwachts had its leader. The captain of the firstwas director of the whole game, and instead of a lance wore a rapier. Iconsidered it a great honour when this dignity was conferred on me. Oneof its consequences was that my portrait was sketched by "Old Unger" inthe so-called "Bergwacht Book, " which contained the likenesses of all mypredecessors. 

During the summer months all eyes, even as early as Thursday, werewatching the weather. When Saturday evening proved pleasant and Barophad given his consent, there was great rejoicing in the institute, andthe morning hours must have yielded the teachers little satisfaction. 

Directly after dinner everybody seized his pole and the other"Bergwacht" equipments. The alliances were formed under the captain'sguidance. We will say that the contest was to begin with the first andthird Bergwacht pitted against the second and fourth, and be followed byanother, with the first and second against the third and fourth. 

We assembled in the court-yard just before sunset. Barop made a littlespeech, exhorting us to fight steadily, and especially to observeall the rules and yield ourselves captives as soon as an enemy's poletouched us. He never neglected on these occasions to admonish us that, should our native land ever need the armed aid of her sons, we shouldmarch to battle as joyously as we now did to the Bergwacht, which was totrain us to skill in her defence. 

Then the procession set off in good order, four or six pupils harnessingthemselves voluntarily to the cart in which the kegs of beer weredragged up the Kolm. Off we went, singing merrily, and at the top thewomen were waiting for us with a lunch. Then the warriors scattered, thefire was lighted on every hearth, the plan of battle was discussed, somewere sent out to reconnoitre, others kept to defend the citadel. 

At last the conflict began. Could I ever forget the scenes in theforest! No Indian tribe on the war-path ever strained every sense morekeenly to watch, surround, and surprise the foe. And the hand-to-handfray! What delight it was to burst from the shelter of the thicket andtouch with our poles two, three, or four of the surprised enemies erethey thought of defence! And what self-denial it required when--spiteof the most skilful parry--we felt the touch of the pole, to confess it, and be led off as a prisoner!

Voices and shouts echoed through the woods, and the glare of five firespierced the darkness--five--for flames were also blazing where the womenwere cooking the supper. But the light was brightest, the shouts of thecombatants were loudest, in the vicinity of the forts. The effort of thebesiegers was to spy out unguarded places, and occupy the attention ofthe garrison so that a comrade might leap over the wall and set his footon the hearth. The object of the garrison was to prevent this. 

What was that? An exulting cry rang through the night air. A warrior hadsucceeded in penetrating the hostile citadel untouched and setting hisfoot on the hearth!

Two or three times we enjoyed the delight of battle; and when towardsmidnight it closed, we threw ourselves-glowing from the strife andblackened by the smoke of the hearth-fires-down on the greensward aroundthe women's fire, where boiled eggs and other good things were served, and meanwhile the mugs of foaming beer were passed around the circle. One patriotic song after another was sung, and at last each Bergwachtwithdrew to its citadel and lay down on the moss to sleep under thesheltering roof. Two sentinels marched up and down, relieved every halfhour until the early dawn of the summer Sunday brightened the easternsky. 

Then "Huup!"--the Keilhau shout which summoned us back to theinstitute-rang out, and a hymn, the march back, a bath in the pond, andfinally the most delicious rest, if good luck permitted, on the heapsof hay which had not been gathered in. On the Sunday following theBergwacht we were not required to attend church, where we should merelyhave gone to sleep. Barop, though usually very strict in the observanceof religious duties, never demanded anything for the sake of mereappearances. 

And the bed of my own planning! It consisted of wood and stones, andwas covered with a thick layer of moss, raised at the head in a slantingdirection. It looked like other beds, but the place where it stoodrequires some description, for it was a Keilhau specialty, a favourbestowed by our teachers on the pupils. 

Midway up the slope of the Kolm where our citadels stood, on the sidefacing the institute, each boy had a piece of ground where he mightbuild, dig, or plant, as he chose. They descended from one to another:Ludo's and mine had come down from Martin and another pupil who leftthe school at the same time. But I was not satisfied with what mypredecessors had created. I spared the beautiful vine which twinedaround a fir-tree, but in the place of a flower-bed and a bench whichI found there Ludo and I built a hearth, and for myself the bed alreadymentioned, which my brother of course was permitted to occupy with me. 

How many hours I have spent on its soft cushions, reading or dreaming orimagining things! If I could only remember them as they hovered beforeme, what epics and tales I could write!

No doubt we ought to be grateful to God for this as well as for so manyother blessings; but why are we permitted to be young only once in ourlives, only once to be borne aloft on the wings of a tireless power ofimagination, so easily satisfied with ourselves, so full of love, faith, and hope, so open to every joy and so blind to every care and doubt, andeverything which threatens to cloud and extinguish the sunlight in thesoul?

Dear bed in my plot of ground at Keilhau, you ought, in accordance witha remark of Barop, to cause me serious self-examination, for he said, probably with no thought of my mossy couch, "From the way in which thepupils use their plots of ground and the things they place in them, Ican form a very correct opinion of their dispositions and tastes. " Butyou, beloved couch, should have the best place in my garden if you couldrestore me but for one half hour the dreams which visited me on yourgrey-green pillows, when I was a lad of fourteen or fifteen. 

I have passed over the Rudolstadt Schutzenfest, its music, itsmerry-go-round, and the capital sausages cooked in the open air, andhave intentionally omitted many other delightful things. I cannot helpwondering now where we found time for all these summer pleasures. 

True, with the exception of a few days at Whitsuntide, we had novacation from Easter until the first of September. But even in Augustone thought, one joyous anticipation, filled every heart. The annualautumn excursion was coming!

After we were divided into travelling parties and had ascertained whichteacher was to accompany us--a matter that seemed very important--wediligently practised the most beautiful songs; and on many an eveningBarop or Middendorf told us of the places through which we were to pass, their history, and the legends which were associated with them. Theywere aided in this by one of the sub-teachers, Bagge, a poeticallygifted young clergyman, who possessed great personal beauty and a heartcapable of entering into the intellectual life of the boys who wereentrusted to his care. 

He instructed us in the German language and literature. Possibly becausehe thought that he discovered in me a talent for poetic expression, heshowed me unusual favor, even read his own verses aloud to me, and setme special tasks in verse-writing, which he criticised with me whenI had finished. The first long poem I wrote of my own impulse was adescription of the wonderful forms assumed by the stalactite formationsin the Sophie Cave in Switzerland, which we had visited. Unfortunately, the book containing it is lost, but I remember the following lines, referring to the industrious sprites which I imagined as the sculptorsof the wondrous shapes:

 "Priestly robes and a high altar the sprites created here, And in the rock-hewn cauldron poured the holy water clear, Within whose depths reflected, by the torches' flickering rays, Beneath the surface glimmering my own face met my gaze; And when I thus beheld it, so small it seemed to me, That yonder stone-carved giant looked on with mocking glee. Ay, laugh, if that's your pleasure, Goliath huge and old, I soon shall fare forth singing, you still your place must hold. "

Another sub-teacher was also a favourite travelling-companion. His namewas Schaffner, and he, too, with his thick, black beard, was a handsomeman. To those pupils who, like my brother Ludo, were pursuing the studyof the sciences, he, the mathematician of the institute, must have beenan unusually clear and competent teacher. I was under his charge only ashort time, and his branch of knowledge was unfortunately my weak point. Shortly before my departure he married a younger sister of Barop's wife, and established an educational institution very similar to Keilhau atGumperda, at Schwarza in Thuringia. 

Herr Vodoz, our French teacher, a cheery, vigorous Swiss, with a perfectforest of curls on his head, was also one of the most popular guides;and so was Dr. Budstedt, who gave instruction in the classics. He wasnot a handsome man, but he deserved the name of "anima candida. " He usedto storm at the slightest occasion, but he was quickly appeased again. As a teacher I think he did his full duty, but I no longer rememberanything about his methods. 

The travelling party which Barop accompanied were very proud of thehonour. Middendorf's age permitted him to go only with the youngestpupils, who made the shortest trips. 

These excursions led the little boys into the Thuringian Forest, theHartz Mountains, Saxony and Bohemia, Nuremberg and Wurzburg, and theolder ones by way of Baireuth and Regensburg to Ulm. The large boys inthe first travelling party, which was usually headed by Barop himself, extended their journey as far as Switzerland. 

I visited in after-years nearly all the places to which we went at thattime, and some, with which important events in my life were associated, I shall mention later. It would not be easy to reproduce from memory thefirst impressions received without mingling with them more recent ones. 

Thus, I well remember how Nuremberg affected me and how much it pleasedme. I express this in my description of the journey; but in the authorof Gred, who often sought this delightful city, and made himselffamiliar with life there in the days of its mediaval prosperity, thesechildish impressions became something wholly new. And yet they areinseparable from the conception and contents of the Nuremberg novel. 

My mother kept the old books containing the accounts of theseexcursions, which occupied from two to three weeks, and they possesseda certain interest for me, principally because they proved how skilfullyour teachers understood how to carry out Froebel's principles on theseoccasions. Our records of travel also explain in detail what thiseducator meant by the words "unity with life"; for our attention wasdirected not only to beautiful views or magnificent works of artand architecture, but to noteworthy public institutions or greatmanufactories. Our teachers took the utmost care that we shouldunderstand what we saw. 

The cultivation of the fields, the building of the peasants' huts, thenational costumes, were all brought under our notice, thus making usfamiliar with life outside of the school, and opening our eyes to thingsconcerning which the pupil of an ordinary model grammar-school rarelyinquires, yet which are of great importance to the world to which webelong. 

Our material life was sensibly arranged. During the rest at noon acold lunch was served, and an abundant hot meal was not enjoyed untilevening. 

In the large cities we dined at good hotels at the table d'hote, and--asin Dresden, Prague, and Coburg--were taken to the theatre. 

But we often spent the night in the villages, and then chairs wereturned upside down, loose straw was spread on the backs and over thefloor, and, wrapped in the shawl which almost every boy carried buckledto his knapsack, we slept, only half undressed, as comfortably as in thesoftest bed. 

While walking we usually sung songs, among them very nonsensical ones, if only we could keep step well to their time. Often one of the teacherstold us a story. Schaffner and Bagge could do this best, but we oftenmet other pedestrians with whom we entered into conversation. Howdelightful is the memory of these tramps! Progress on foot is slow, butnot only do we see ten times better than from a carriage or the windowof a car, but we hear and learn something while talking with themechanics, citizens, and peasants who are going the same way, or thelandlords, bar-maids, and table companions we meet in the taverns, whose guests live according to the custom of the country instead of theinternational pattern of our great hotels. 

As a young married man, I always anticipated as the greatest futurehappiness taking pedestrian tours with my sons like the Keilhau ones;but Fate ordained otherwise. 

On our return to the institute we were received with great rejoicing;and how much the different parties, now united, had to tell one another!

Study recommenced on the first of October, and during the leisure daysbefore that time the village church festival was celebrated under thevillage linden, with plenty of cakes, and a dance of the peasants, inwhich we older ones took part. But we were obliged to devote severalhours of every day to describing our journey for our relatives athome. Each one filled a large book, which was to be neatly written. Theexercise afforded better practice in describing personal experiencesthan a dozen essays which had been previously read with the teacher. 

CHAPTER XVI. AUTUMN, WINTER, EASTER AND DEPARTURE

Autumn had come, and this season of the year, which afterwards was tobe the most fraught with suffering, at that time seemed perhaps thepleasantest; for none afforded a better opportunity for wrestling andplaying. It brought delicious fruit, and never was the fire lightedmore frequently on the hearth in the plots of ground assigned to thepupils--baking and boiling were pleasant during the cool afternoons. 

No month seemed to us so cheery as October. During its course the applesand pears were gathered, and an old privilege allowed the pupils "toglean"--that is, to claim the fruit left on the trees. This tested thekeenness of our young eyes, but it sometimes happened that we confoundedtrees still untouched with those which had been harvested. "Nitimurin vetitum semper cupimusque negata, "--[The forbidden charms, and theunexpected lures us. ]--is an excellent saying of Ovid, whose truth, whenhe tested it in person, was the cause of his exile. It sometimes broughtus into conflict with the owners of the trees, and it was only naturalthat "Froebel's youngsters" often excited the peasants' ire. 

Gellert, it is true, has sung:

 "Enjoy what the Lord has granted, Grieve not for aught withheld. "

but the popular saying is, "Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest, " and theproverb was right in regard to us Keilhau boys. 

Whatever fruit is meant in the story related in Genesis of the fall ofman, none could make it clearer to German children than the apple. TheKeilhau ones were kept in a cellar, and through the opening we thrust apole to which the blade of a rapier was fastened. This sometimes broughtus up four or five apples at once, which hung on the blade like theflock of ducks that Baron Munchausen's musket pierced with the ramrod. 

We were all honest boys, yet not one, not even the sons of the headsof the institute, ever thought of blaming or checking the zest for thisappropriation of other people's property. 

The apple and morality must stand in a very peculiar relation to eachother. 

Scarcely was the last fruit gathered, when other pleasures greeted us. 

The 18th of October, the anniversary of the battle of Leipsic, wascelebrated in Thuringia by kindling bonfires on the highest mountains, but ours was always the largest and brightest far and wide. While theflames soared heavenward, we enthusiastically sang patriotic songs. Theold Lutzow Jagers, who had fought for the freedom of Germany, led thechorus and gazed with tearful eyes at the boys whom they were rearingfor the future supporters and champions of their native land. 

Then winter came. 

Snow and ice usually appeared in our mountain valley in the latter halfof November. We welcomed them, for winter brought coasting parties downthe mountains, skating, snow-balling, the clumsy snow-man, and that mostactive of mortals, the dancing-master, who not only instructed us inthe art of Terpsichore, but also gave us rules of decorum which were anabomination to Uncle Froebel. 

An opportunity to put them into practice was close at hand, for the 29thof November was Barop's birthday, which was celebrated by a little danceafter the play. 

Those who took part in the performance were excused from study forseveral days before, for with the sapper's help we built the stage, andeven painted the scenes. The piece was rehearsed till it was absolutelyfaultless. 

I took an active part in all these matters during my entire residence atthe institute, and we three Ebers brothers had the reputation of beingamong the best actors, though Martin far surpassed us. We had inventedanother variety of theatrical performances which we often enjoyed onwinter evenings after supper, unless one of the teachers read aloudto us, or we boys performed the classic dramas. While I was one ofthe younger pupils, we used the large and complete puppet-show whichbelonged to the institute; but afterwards we preferred to act ourselves, and arranged the performance according to a plan of our own. 

One of us who had seen a play during the vacation at home told theothers the plot. The whole was divided into scenes, and each characterwas assigned to some representative who was left to personate itaccording to his own conception, choosing the words and gestures whichhe deemed most appropriate. 

I enjoyed nothing more than these performances; and my mother, whowitnessed several of them during one of her visits, afterwards saidthat it was surprising how well we had managed the affair and acted ourparts. 

For a long time I was the moving spirit in this play, and we had nolack of talented mimes, personators of sentimental heroes, and drollcomedians. The women's parts, of course, were also taken by boys. Ludomade a wonderfully pretty girl. I was sometimes one thing, sometimesanother, but almost always stage manager. 

These merry improvisations were certainly well fitted to strengthenthe creative power and activity of our intellects. There was no lack ofadmirable stage properties, for the large wardrobe of the institute wasat our disposal whenever we wanted to act, which was at least oncea week during the whole winter, except in the Advent season, wheneverything was obliged to yield to the demand of the approachingChristmas festival. Then we were all busy in making presents for ourrelatives. The younger ones manufactured various cardboard trifles; theolder pupils, as embryo cabinet-makers, all sorts of pretty and usefulthings, especially boxes. 

Unluckily, I did not excel as a cabinet-maker, though I managed tofinish tolerable boxes; but my mother had two made by the more skilfulhands of Ludo, which were provided with locks and hinges, so neatlyfinished, veneered, and polished that many a trained cabinet-maker'sapprentice could have done no better. It was one of Froebel'sprinciples--as I have already mentioned--to follow the "German taste formanual labor, " and have us work with spades and pickaxes (in our plotsof ground), and with squares, chisels, and saws (in the pasteboard andcarving lessons). 

A clever elderly man, the sapper, or Sabuim, already mentioned--I thinkI never heard his real name--instructed us in the trades of the bookbinder and cabinet-maker. He was said to have served under Napoleon asa sapper, and afterwards settled in our neighbourhood, and foundoccupation in Keilhau. He was skilful in all kinds of manual labour, and an excellent teacher. The nearer Christmas came the busier were theworkshops; and while usually there was no noise, they now resounded withChristmas songs, among which:

 "Up, up, my lads! why do ye sleep so long? The night has passed, and day begins to dawn";

or our Berlin one:

 "Something will happen to-morrow, my children, "

were most frequently heard. 

Christmas thoughts filled our hearts and minds. Christmas at home hadbeen so delightful that the first year I felt troubled by the idea thatthe festival must be celebrated away from my mother and without her. Butafter we had shared the Keilhau holiday, and what preceded and followedit, we could not decide which was the most enjoyable. 

Once our mother was present, though the cause of her coming was notexactly a joyous one. About a week before the Christmas of my third yearat Keilhau I went to the hayloft at dusk, and while scuffling with acompanion the hay slipped with us and we both fell to the barn-floor. My school-mate sustained an internal injury, while I escaped with thefracture of two bones, fortunately only of the left arm. The severesuffering which has darkened so large a portion of my life has beenattributed to this fracture, but the idea is probably incorrect;otherwise the consequences would have appeared earlier. 

At first the arm was very painful; yet the thought of having lost theChristmas pleasures was almost worse. But the experience that the daysfrom which we expect least often afford us most happiness was againverified. Barop had thought it his duty to inform my mother of thisserious accident, and two or three days later she arrived. Though Icould not play out of doors with the others, there was enough to enjoyin the house with her and some of my comrades. 

Every incident of that Christmas has remained in my memory, and, thoughFate should grant me many more years of life, I would never forget them. First came the suspense and excitement when the wagon from Rudolstadtfilled with boxes drove into the court-yard, and then the watching forthose which might be meant for us. 

On Christmas eve, when at home the bell summoned us to theChristmas-tree the delight of anticipation reached its climax, andexpressed itself in song, in gayer talk, and now and then some harmlessscuffle. 

Then we went to bed, with the firm resolve of waking early; but thesleep of youth is sounder than any resolution, and suddenly unwontedsounds roused us, perhaps from the dreams of the manger at Bethlehem andthe radiant Christmas-tree. 

Was it the voice of the angels which appeared to the shepherds? Themelody was a Christmas choral played by the Rudolstadt band, which hadbeen summoned to waken us thus pleasantly. 

Never did we leave our beds more quickly than in the darkness of thatearly morning, illuminated as usual only by a tallow dip. Rarely was theprocess of washing more speedily accomplished--in winter we were oftenobliged to break a crust of ice which had formed over the water; butthis time haste was useless, for no one was admitted into the great hallbefore the signal was given. At last it sounded, and when we had pressedthrough the wide-open doors, what splendours greeted our enraptured eyesand ears!

The whole room was most elaborately decorated with garlands ofpine. Wherever the light entered the windows we saw transparenciesrepresenting biblical Christmas scenes. Christmas-trees--splendid firsof stately height and size, which two days before were the ornaments ofthe forest-glittered in the light of the candles, which was reflectedfrom the ruddy cheeks of the apples and the gilded and silverednuts. Meanwhile the air, "O night so calm, so holy!" floated from theinstruments of the musicians. 

Scarcely had we taken our places when a chorus of many voices singingthe angel's greeting, "Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, "recalled to our happy hearts the sacredness of the morning. Violins andhorns blended with the voices; then, before even the most excited couldfeel the least emotion of impatience, the music ceased. Barop steppedforward, and in the deep, earnest tones peculiar to him exclaimed, "Nowsee what pleasures the love of your friends has prepared for you!"

The devout, ennobling feelings which had inspired every heart werescattered to the four winds; we dispersed like a flock of dovesthreatened by a hawk, and the search for the places marked by a labelbegan. 

One had already seen his name; a near-sighted fellow went searching fromtable to table; and here and there one boy called to another to pointout what his sharp eyes had detected. On every table stood a Stolle, theSaxon Christmas bread called in Keilhau Schuttchen, and a large plate ofnuts and cakes, the gift of the institute. Beside these, either on thetables or the floor, were the boxes from home. They were already opened, but the unpacking was left to us--a wise thing; for what pleasure itafforded us to take out the various gifts, unwrap them, admire, examine, and show them to others!

Those were happy days, for we saw only joyous faces, and our own heartshad room for no other feelings than the heaven-born sisters Love, Joy, and Gratitude. 

We entered with fresh zeal upon the season of work which followed. Itwas the hardest of the twelve months, for it carried us to Easter, theclose of the school year, and was interrupted only by the carnival withits merry masquerade. 

All sorts of examinations closed the term of instruction. On Palm Sundaythe confirmation services took place, which were attended by the parentsof many of the pupils, and in which the whole institute shared. 

Then came the vacation. It lasted three weeks, and was the only time wewere allowed to return home. And what varied pleasures awaited us there!Martha, whom we left a young lady of seventeen, remained unaltered inher charming, gentle grace, but Paula changed every year. One Easter wefound the plump school-girl transformed into a slender young lady. Thenext vacation she had been confirmed, wore long dresses, had lostevery trace of boyishness, even rarely showed any touch of her formerdrollery. 

She did not care to go to the theatre, of which Martha was very fond, unless serious dramas were performed. We, on the contrary, liked farces. I still remember a political quip which was frequently repeated at theKonigstadt Theatre, and whose point was a jeer at the aspirations of therevolution: "Property is theft, or a Dream of a Red Republican. "

We were in the midst of the reaction and those who had fought at thebarricades on the 18th of March applauded when the couplet was sung, ofwhich I remember these lines:

 "Ah! what bliss is the aspiration To dangle from a lamp-post As a martyr for the nation!"

During these vacations politics was naturally a matter of utterindifference to us, and toward their close we usually paid a visit to mygrandmother and aunt in Dresden. 

So the years passed till Easter (1852) came, and with it ourconfirmation and my separation from Ludo, who was to follow a differentcareer. We had double instruction in confirmation, first with thevillage boys from the pastor of Eichfeld, and afterwards from Middendorfat the institute. 

Unfortunately, I have entirely forgotten what the Eichfeld clergymantaught us, but Middendorf's lessons made all the deeper impression. 

He led us through life to God and the Saviour, and thence back again tolife. 

How often, after one of these lessons, silence reigned, and teachers andpupils rose from their seats with tearful eyes!

Afterwards I learned from a book which had been kept that what he gaveus had been drawn chiefly from the rich experiences of his own lifeand the Gospels, supplemented by the writings of his favourite teacher, Schleiermacher. By contemplation, the consideration of the universe withthe soul rather than with the mind, we should enter into close relationswith God and become conscious of our dependence upon him, and thisconsciousness Middendorf with his teacher Schleiermacher called"religion. "

But the old Lutzow Jager, who in the year 1813 had taken up arms at theBerlin University, had also sat at the feet of Fichte, and thereforecrowned his system by declaring, like the latter, that religion wasnot feeling but perception. Whoever attained this, arrived at a clearunderstanding of his own ego (Middendorf's mental understanding oflife), perfect harmony with himself and the true sanctification of hissoul. This man who, according to our Middendorf, is the really religioushuman being, will be in harmony with God and Nature, and find an answerto the highest of all questions. 

Froebel's declaration that he had found "the unity of life, " which hadbrought Middendorf to Keilhau, probably referred to Fichte. The phrasehad doubtless frequently been used by them in conversations about thisphilosopher, and neither needed an explanation, since Fichte's opinionswere familiar to both. 

We candidates for confirmation at that time knew the Berlin philosopheronly by name, and sentences like "unity with one's self, " "to grasp andfulfil, " "inward purity of life, " etc. , which every one who was taughtby Middendorf must remember, at first seemed perplexing; but ourteacher, who considered it of the utmost importance to be understood, and whose purpose was not to give us mere words, but to enrich oursouls with possessions that would last all our lives, did not cease hisexplanations until even the least gifted understood their real meaning. 

This natural, childlike old man never lectured; he was only a pedagoguein the sense of the ancients--that is, a guide of boys. Though preceptstinctured by philosophy mingled with his teachings, they only served aspoints of departure for statements which came to him from the soul andfound their way to it. 

He possessed a comprehensive knowledge of the religions of all nations, and described each with equal love and an endeavour to show us all theirmerits. I remember how warmly he praised Confucius's command not to loveour fellow-men but to respect them, and how sensible and beautiful itseemed to me, too, in those days. He lingered longest on Buddhism; andit surprises me now to discover how well, with the aids then at hiscommand, he understood the touching charity of Buddha and the deepwisdom and grandeur of his doctrine. 

But he showed us the other religions mainly to place Christianity andits renewing and redeeming power in a brighter light. The former served, as it were, for a foil to the picture of our Saviour's religion andcharacter, which he desired to imprint upon the soul. Whether hesucceeded in bringing us into complete "unity" with the personality ofChrist, to which he stood in such close relations, is doubtful, but hecertainly taught us to understand and love him; and this love, though Ihave also listened to the views of those who attribute the creation andlife of the world to mechanical causes, and believe the Deity to be aproduct of the human intellect, has never grown cold up to the presentday. 

The code of ethics which Middendorf taught was very simple. His motto, as I have said, was, "True, pure, and upright in life. " He might haveadded, "and with a heart full of love"; for this was what distinguishedhim from so many, what made him a Christian in the most beautiful senseof the word, and he neglected nothing to render our young hearts anabiding-place for this love. 

Of course, our mother came to attend our confirmation, which first tookplace with the peasant boys--who all wore sprigs of lavender intheir button-holes--in the village church at Eichfeld, and then, withMiddendorf officiating, in the hall of the institute at Keilhau. 

Few boys ever approached the communion-table for the first time in amore devout mood, or with hearts more open to all good things, than didwe two brothers that day on our mother's right and left hand. 

No matter how much I may have erred, Middendorf's teachings and counselshave not been wholly lost in any stage of my career. 

After the confirmation I went away with my mother and Ludo for thevacation, and three weeks later I returned to the institute without mybrother. 

I missed him everywhere. His greater discretion had kept me from manya folly, and my need of loving some one found satisfaction in him. Besides, his mere presence was a perpetual reminder of my mother. 

Keilhau was no longer what it had been. New scenes always seem desirableto young people, and for the first time I longed to go away, though Iknew nothing of my destination except that it would be a gymnasium. 

Yet I loved the institute and its teachers, though I did not realizeuntil later how great was my debt of gratitude. Here, and by them, thefoundation of my whole future life was laid, and if I sometimes felt itreel under my feet, the Froebel method was not in fault. 

The institute could not dismiss us as finished men; the desired "unitywith life" can be attained only upon its stage--the world--in themotley throng of fellow-men, but minds and bodies were carefully trainedaccording to their individual peculiarities, and I might consider myselfcapable of receiving higher lessons. True, my character was not yetsteeled sufficiently to resist every temptation, but I no longer needfear the danger of crossing the barrier which Froebel set for men"worthy" in his sense. 

My acquirements were deficient in many respects what the French term"justesse d'esprit" had to a certain degree become mine, as in the caseof every Keilhau boy, through our system of education. 

Though I could not boast of "being one with Nature, " we had formeda friendly alliance, and I learned by my own experience the truth ofGoethe's words, that it was the only book which offers valuable contentson every page. 

I was not yet familiar with life, but I had learned to look about withopen eyes. 

I had not become a master in any handicraft, but I had learnedwith paste-pot and knife, saw, plane, and chisel--nay, even axe andhandspike--what manual labour meant and how to use my hands. 

I had by no means attained to union with God, but I had acquired theability and desire to recognize his government in Nature as well as inlife; for Middendorf had understood how to lead us into a genuinefilial relation with him and awaken in our young hearts love for himwho kindles in the hearts of men the pure flame of love for theirneighbours. 

The Greek words which Langethal wrote in my album, and which mean "Betruthful in love, " were beginning to be as natural to me as abhorrenceof cowardice and falsehood had long been. 

Love for our native land was imprinted indelibly on my soul, and livesthere joyously, ready to sacrifice for the freedom and greatness ofGermany even what I hold dearest. 

CHAPTER XVII. THE GYMNASIUM AND THE FIRST PERIOD OF UNIVERSITY LIFE. 

It was hard for me to leave Keilhau, but our trip to Rudolstadt, towhich my dearest companions accompanied me, was merry enough. WithBarop's permission we had a banquet in the peasant tavern there, whosecost was defrayed by the kreutzers which had been paid as fines foroffences against table rules. At one of these tables where we largerboys sat, only French was spoken; at another only the purest German; andwe had ourselves made the rule that whoever used a word of his nativetongue at one, or a foreign one at the other, should be fined akreutzer. 

How merry were these banquets, at which usually several teachers werewelcome guests!

One of the greatest advantages of Keilhau was that our whole lives, andeven our pleasures, were pure enough not to shun a teacher's eyes. Andyet we were true, genuine boys, whose overplus of strength found ventnot only in play, but all sorts of foolish tricks. 

A smile still hovers around my lips when I think of the frozen snow-manon whose head we put a black cap and then placed in one of the youngerteacher's rooms to personate a ghost, and the difficulty we hadin transporting the monster, or when I remember our pranks in thedormitory. 

I believe I am mentioning these cheerful things here to give myself abrief respite, for the portion of my life which followed is the one Ileast desire to describe. 

Rousseau says that man's education is completed by art, Nature, andcircumstances. The first two factors had had their effect upon me, andI was now to learn for the first time to reckon independently with thelast; hitherto they had been watched and influenced in my favour byothers. This had been done not only by masters of the art of pedagogy, but by their no less powerful co-educators, my companions, among whomthere was not a single corrupt, ill-disposed boy. I was now to learnwhat circumstances I should find in my new relations, and in what waythey would prove teachers to me. 

I was to be placed at school in Kottbus, at that time still a littlemanufacturing town in the Mark. My mother did not venture to keep me inBerlin during the critical years now approaching. Kottbus was not faraway, and knowing that I was backward in the science that Dr. Boltze, the mathematician, taught, she gave him the preference over the heads ofthe other boarding-schools in the Mark. 

I was not reluctant to undertake the hard work, yet I felt like a coltwhich is led from the pastures to the stable. 

A visit to my grandmother in Dresden, and many pleasures which I waspermitted to share with my brothers and sisters, seemed to me like therespite before execution. 

My mother accompanied me to my new school, and I can not describe thegloomy impression made by the little manufacturing town on the flatplains of the Mark, which at that time certainly possessed nothing thatcould charm a boy born in Berlin and educated in a beautiful mountainvalley. 

In front of Dr. Boltze's house we found the man to whose care I was tobe entrusted. At that time he was probably scarcely forty years old, short in stature and very erect, with a shrewd face whose featuresindicated an iron sternness of character, an impression heightened bythe thick, bushy brows which met above his nose. 

He himself said that people in Pomerania believed that men with sucheyebrows stood in close relations to Satan. Once, while on his way in aboat from Greifswald to the island of Rugen, the superstitious sailorswere on the point of throwing him overboard because they attributedtheir peril to him as the child of the devil, yet, he added--and he wasa thoroughly truthful man--the power which these strange eyebrows gavehim over others, and especially over men of humble station, induced themto release him. 

But after we had learned what a jovial, indulgent comrade was hiddenbehind the iron tyrant who gazed so threateningly at us from the blackeyes beneath the bushy brows, our timidity vanished, and at last wefound it easy enough to induce him to change a resolute "No" into ayielding "Yes. "

His wife, on the contrary, was precisely his opposite, for she wieldedthe sceptre in the household with absolute sway, though so fragile acreature that it seemed as if a breath would blow her away. No one couldhave been a more energetic housekeeper. She was as active an assistantto her husband with her pen as with her tongue. Most of my reports arein her writing. Besides this, one pretty, healthy child after anotherwas born, and she allowed herself but a brief time for convalescence. I was the godfather of one of these babies, an honour shared by myschool-mate, Von Lobenstein. The baptismal ceremony was performed in theBoltze house. The father and we were each to write a name on a slip ofpaper and lay it beside the font. We had selected the oddest ones wecould think of, and when the pastor picked up the slips he read Gerhardand Habakkuk. Thanks to the care and wisdom of his excellent mother, theboy throve admirably in spite of his cognomen, and I heard to my greatpleasure that he has become an able man. 

This boyish prank is characteristic of our relations. If we did not gotoo far, Frau Boltze always took our part, and understood how to smoothher husband's frowning brow quickly enough. Besides, it was a realpleasure to be on good terms with her, for, as the daughter of aprominent official, she had had an excellent education, and her quickwit did honour to her native city, Berlin. 

Had Dr. Boltze performed his office of tutor with more energy, it wouldhave been better for us; but in other respects I can say of him nothingbut good. 

The inventions he made in mechanics, I have been told by experts, werevery important for the times and deserved greater success. Among themwas a coach moved by electricity. 

My mother and I were cordially welcomed by this couple, on conversingwith whom my first feeling of constraint vanished. 

The examination next morning almost placed me higher than I expected, for the head-master who heard me translate at first thought me preparedfor the first class; but Pro-Rector Braune, who examined me in Latingrammar, said that I was fitted only for the second. 

When I left the examination hall I was introduced by Dr. Boltze to oneof my future school-fellows in the person of an elegant young gentlemanwho had just alighted from a carriage and was patting the necks of thehorses which he had driven himself. 

I had supposed him to be a lieutenant in civilian's dress, for hisdark mustache, small whiskers, and the military cut of his hair, which already began to be somewhat thin, made me add a lustrum to histwenty-one years. 

After my new tutor had left us this strange school-fellow entered intoconversation with me very graciously, and after telling me many thingsabout the school and its management which seemed incredible, he passedon to the pupils, among whom were some "nice fellows, " and mentioned anumber of names, principally of noble families whose bearers had comehere to obtain the graduation certificate, the key without which so manydoors are closed in Prussia. 

Then he proceeded to describe marvels which I was afterwards to witness, but which at that time I did not know whether I ought to considerdelightful or quite the contrary. 

Of course, I kept my doubts to myself and joined in when he laughed; butmy heart was heavy. Could I avoid these companions? Yet I had come tobe industrious, prepare quickly for the university, and give my motherpleasure. 

Poor woman! She had made such careful inquiries before sending me here;and what a dangerous soil for a precocious boy just entering the yearsof youth was this manufacturing town and an institution so badly managedas the Kottbus School! I had come hither full of beautiful ideals andanimated by the best intentions; but the very first day made me suspecthow many obstacles I should encounter; though I did not yet imagine theperils which lay in my companion's words. All the young gentlemen whohad been drawn hither by the examination were sons of good families, but the part which these pupils, and I with them, played in society, atballs, and in all the amusements of the cultivated circle in the townwas so prominent, the views of life and habits which they brought withthem so completely contradicted the idea which every sensible person hasof a grammar-school boy, that their presence could not fail to injurethe school. 

Of course, all this could not remain permanently concealed from thehigher authorities. The old head-master was suddenly retired, and oneof the best educators summoned in his place man who quickly succeededin making the decaying Kottbus School one of the most excellent in allPrussia. I had the misfortune of being for more than two years a pupilunder the government of the first head-master, and the good luckof spending nearly the same length of time under the charge of hissuccessor. 

My mother was satisfied with the result of the examination, and the nextafternoon she drove with me to our relatives at Komptendorf. Frauvon Berndt, the youngest daughter of our beloved kinsman, Moritz vonOppenfeld, united to the elegance of a woman reared in a large city thecordiality of the mistress of a country home. Her husband won the entireconfidence of every one who met the gaze of his honest blue eyes. Hehad given up the legal profession to take charge of his somewhatimpoverished paternal estate, and soon transformed it into one of themost productive in the whole neighbourhood. 

He was pleased that I, a city boy, knew so much about field and forest, so at my very first visit he invited me to repeat it often. 

The next morning I took leave of my mother, and my school life began. Inmany points I was in advance of the other pupils in the second class, in others behind them; but this troubled me very little--school seemed anecessary evil. My real life commenced after its close, and here alsomy natural cheerfulness ruled my whole nature. The town offered me fewattractions, but the country was full of pleasures. Unfortunately, I could not go to Komptendorf as often as I wished, for it was a twohours' walk, and horses and carriages were not always at my disposal. Yet many a Saturday found me there, enjoying the delight of chattingwith my kind hostess about home news and other pleasant things, orreading aloud to her. 

Even in the second year of my stay at Kottbus I went to every dancegiven on the estates in the neighbourhood and visited many a delightfulhome in the town. Then there were long walks--sometimes with Dr. Boltzeand my school-mates, sometimes with friends, and often alone. 

We frequently took a Sunday walk, which often began on Saturdayafternoon, usually with merry companions and in the society of our sternmaster, who, gayer than the youngest of us, needed our care ratherthan we his. In this way I visited the beautiful Muskau, and still morefrequently the lovely woodlands of the Spree, a richly watered regionintersected by numerous arms of the river and countless canals, restingas quietly under dense masses of foliage as a child asleep at noontidebeneath the shadow of a tree. 

The alders and willows, lindens and oaks, which grow along the banks, are superb; flocks of birds fly twittering and calling from one bushand branch to another; but all human intercourse is carried on, as inVenice, by boats which glide noiselessly to and fro. 

Whoever desires a faithful and minute picture of this singular region, which reminded me of many scenes in Holland and many of Hobbema'spaintings, should read The Goddess of Noon. It contains a number ofdescriptions whose truth and vividness are matchless. 

Every trip into the woodlands of the Spree offered an abundance ofbeautiful and pleasurable experiences, but I remember with still greaterenjoyment my leafy nooks on the river-bank. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE TIME OF EFFERVESCENCE, AND MY SCHOOL MATES. 

Although the events of my school-days at Kottbus long since blendedtogether in my memory, my life there is divided into two sharply definedportions. The latter commences with Professor Tzschirner's appointmentand the reform in the school. 

From the first day of the latter's government I can recall what wastaught us in the class and how it influenced me, while I have entirelyforgotten what occurred during the interim. This seems strange; for, while Langethal's, Middendorf's, and Barop's instruction, which Ireceived when so much younger, remains vividly impressed on my memory, and it is the same with Tzschirner's lessons, the knowledge I acquiredbetween my fifteenth and seventeenth year is effaced as completely asthough I had passed a sponge over the slate of my memory. A chasmyawns between these periods of instruction, and I cannot ascribe thiscircumstance entirely to the amusements which withdrew my thoughts fromstudy; for they continued under Tzschirner's rule, though with somerestrictions. I wish I could believe that everything which befel me thenhad remained entirely without influence on my inner life. 

A demon--I can find no other name--urged me to all sorts of follies, many of which I still remember with pleasure, and, thank Heaven, not asingle one which a strict teacher--supposing that he had not forgottenhow to put himself into the place of a youth--would seriously censure. The effervescing spirits which did not find vent in such pranks obtainedexpression in a different form. 

I had begun to write, and every strong emotion was uttered in verses, which I showed to the companions from whom I could expect sympathy. Myschool-mates were very unlike. Among the young gentlemen who paid a highprice to attend the school not a single one had been really industriousand accomplished anything. But neither did any one of the few lads whosefathers were peasants, or who belonged to the lower ranks, stand atthe head of his class. They were very diligent, but success rarelycorresponded with the amount of labour employed. The well-educatedbut by no means wealthy middle class supplied the school with its bestmaterial. 

The evolution of the human soul is a strange thing. The period duringwhich, in my overflowing mirth, I played all sorts of wild pranks, andat school worked earnestly for one teacher only, often found me toilinglate at night for hours with burning head over a profound creation--Icalled it The Poem of the World--in which I tried to represent theorigin of cosmic and human life. 

Many other verses, from a sonnet to the beautiful ears of a prettycousin to the commencement of the tragedy of Panthea and Abradatus, werewritten at that time; but I owe The Poem of the World special gratitude, for it kept me from many a folly, and often held me for weeks at my deskduring the evening hours which many of my comrades spent in the tavern. Besides, it attracted the new head-master's attention to my poeticaltastes, for a number of verses had been left by mistake in anexercise-book. He read them, and asked to see the rest. But I could notfulfil the wish, for they contained many things which could not failto offend him; so I gave him only a few of the tamest passages, and canstill see him smile in his peculiar way as he read them in my presence. He said something about "decided talent, " and when preparations for thecelebration of the birthday of King Frederick William IV were made hegave me the task of composing an original poem. I gladly accepted it. Writing was a great pleasure, and though my productions at school werefar too irregular for me to call them good, I was certainly the bestdeclaimer. 

 THE NEW HEAD OF THE SCHOOL. 

Before passing on to other subjects, I must devote a few words to theremodelling of the school and its new head. 

At the end of my first term in the first class we learned that wewere to have a new teacher, and one who would rule with a rod of iron. Terrible stories of his Draconian severity were in circulation, andhis first address gave us reason to fear the worst, for the tall man offorty in the professor's chair was very imposing in his appearance. His smoothly shaven upper lip and brown whiskers, his erect bearing andenergetic manner, reminded one of an English parliamentary leader, buthis words sounded almost menacing. He said that an entirely new housemust be erected. We and the teachers must help him. To the obedient hewould be a good friend; but to the refractory, no matter what mightbe their position, he would----What followed made many of us nudge oneanother, and the young men who attended the school merely for thesake of the examination left it in a body. Many a teacher even changedcolour. 

This reorganizer, Professor Tzschirner, had formerly been principal ofthe Magdalen Gymnasium at Breslau. In energy and authoritative manner heresembled Barop, but he was also an eminent scholar and a thorough manof the world. The authorities in Berlin made an excellent choice, and wemembers of the first class soon perceived that he not only meant kindlyby us, but that we had obtained in him a teacher far superior to any wehad possessed before. He required a great deal, but he was a goodfriend to every one who did his duty. His kindly intention and inspiringinfluence made themselves felt in our lives; for he invited to his housethe members of the first class whom he desired to influence, and hischarming, highly educated wife helped him entertain us, so that wepreferred an evening there to almost any other amusements. Study beganto charm us, and I can only repeat that he seemed to recall Langethal'smethod and awaken many things which the latter had given me, and which, as it were, had fallen asleep during the interval. He again aroused inmy soul the love for the ancients, and his interpretations of Horace orSophocles were of great service to me in after-years. 

Nor did he by any means forget grammar, but in explaining the classicshe always laid most stress upon the contents, and every lesson ofhis was a clever archaeological, aesthetic, and historical lecture. Ilistened to none more instructive at the university. Philological andlinguistic details which were not suited for the senior pupils whowere being fitted for other callings than those of the philologist wereomitted. But he insisted upon grammatical correctness, and never lostsight of his maxim, "The school should teach its pupils to do thoroughlywhatever they do at all. "

He urged us especially to think for ourselves, and to express our ideasclearly and attractively, not only in writing but verbally. 

It seemed as though a spring breeze had melted the snow from the land, such bourgeoning and blossoming appeared throughout the school. 

Creative work was done by fits and starts. If the demon seized upon me, I raved about for a time as before, but I did my duty for the principal. I not only honoured but loved him, and censure from his lips would havebeen unbearable. 

The poem which I was to read on the king's birthday has been preserved, and as I glanced over it recently I could not help smiling. 

It was to describe the life of Henry the Fowler, and refer to thereigning king, Frederick William IV. The praise of my hero had come frommy heart, so the poem found favour, and in circles so wide that the mostprominent man in the neighbourhood, Prince Puckler-Muskau, sent for myverses. 

I was perfectly aware that they did not represent my best work, but whatfather does not find something to admire in his child? So I copied themneatly, and gave them to Billy, the dwarf, the prince's factotum. Ashort time after, while I was walking with some friends in Branitz Park, the prince summoned me, and greeted me with the exclamation, "You are apoet!"

These four words haunted me a long while; nay, at times they even echoin my memory now. I had heard a hundred anecdotes of this prince, whichcould not fail to charm a youth of my disposition. When a young officerof the Garde-du-Corps in Dresden, after having been intentionallyomitted from the invitations to a court-ball, he hired all the publicconveyances in the city, thus compelling most of the gentlemen andladies who were invited either to wade through the snow or forego thedance. 

When the war of 1813 began he entered the service of "the liberators, "as the Russians were then called, and at the head of his regimentchallenged the colonel of a French one to a duel, and seriously woundedhim. 

It was apparently natural to Prince Puckler to live according to hisown pleasure, undisturbed by the opinions of his fellow-men, and thispleasure urged him to pursue a different course in almost every phase oflife. I said "apparently, " because, although he scorned the censure ofthe people, he never lost sight of it. From a child his intense vanitywas almost a passion, and unfortunately this constant looking about him, the necessity of being seen, prevented him from properly developing anintellect capable of far higher things; yet there was nothing petty inhis character. 

His highest merit, however, was the energy with which he understoodhow to maintain his independence in the most difficult circumstances inwhich life placed him. To one department of activity, especially, thatof gardening, he devoted his whole powers. His parks can vie with thefinest pleasure-grounds of all countries. 

At the time I first met him he was sixty-nine years old, but looked muchyounger, except when he sometimes appeared with his hair powdered untilit was snow-white. His figure was tall and finely proportioned, and though a sarcastic smile sometimes hovered around his lips, theexpression of his face was very kindly. His eyes, which I remember asblue, were somewhat peculiar. When he wished to please, they sparkledwith a warm--I might almost say tender-light, which must have made manya young heart throb faster. Yet I think he loved himself too much togive his whole affection to any one. 

A great man has always seemed to me the greatest of created things, andthough Prince Puckler can scarcely be numbered among the great men ofmankind, he was undoubtedly the greatest among those who surroundedhim at Branitz. In me, the youth of nineteen, he awakened admiration, interest, and curiosity, and his "You are a poet" sometimes strengthenedmy courage, sometimes disheartened me. My boyish ambitions in those dayshad but one purpose, and that was the vocation of a poet. 

I was still ignorant that the Muse kisses only those who have won herlove by the greatest sufferings. Life as yet seemed a festal hall, andas the bird flies from bough to bough wherever a red berry tempts him, my heart was attracted by every pair of bright eyes which glanced kindlyat me. When I entered upon my last term, my Leporello list was longenough, and contained pictures from many different classes. But my hour, too, seemed on the point of striking, for when I went home in my lastChristmas vacation I thought myself really in love with the charmingdaughter of the pleasant widow of a landed proprietor. Nay, though onlynineteen, I even considered whether I should not unite her destiny withmine, and formally ask her hand. My father had offered himself to mymother at the same age. 

In Kottbus I was treated with the respect due to a man, but at home Iwas still "the boy, " and the youngest of us three "little ones. " Ludo, as a lieutenant, had a position in society, while I was yet a schoolboy. Amid these surroundings I realized how hasty and premature my intentionhad been. 

Only four of us came to keep Christmas at home, for Martha now livedin Dresden as the wife of Lieutenant Baron Curt von Brandenstein, the nephew of our Aunt Sophie's husband. Her wedding ceremony in thecathedral was, of course, performed by the court-chaplain Strauss. 

My grandmother had died, but my Aunt Sophie still lived in Dresden, andspent her summers in Blasewitz. Her hospitable house always afforded anatmosphere very stimulating to intellectual life, so I spent more timethere than in my mother's more quiet residence at Pillnitz. 

I had usually passed part of the long--or, as it was called, the"dog-day"--vacation in or near Dresden, but I also took pleasantpedestrian tours in Bohemia, and after my promotion to the senior class, through the Black Forest. 

It was a delightful excursion! Yet I can never recall it without atinge of sadness, for my two companions, a talented young artist namedRothermund, and a law student called Forster, both died young. Wehad met in a railway carriage between Frankfort and Heidelberg anddetermined to take the tour together, and never did the Black Forest, with its mountains and valleys, dark forests and green meadows, clearstreams and pleasant villages, seem to me more beautiful. But stillfairer days were in store after parting from my friends. 

I went to Rippoldsau, where a beloved niece of my mother with hercharming daughter Betsy expected me. Here in the excellent Gohringhotel I found a delightful party, which only lacked young gentlemen. My arrival added a pair of feet which never tired of dancing, and everyevening our elders were obliged to entreat and command in order to putan end to our sport. The mornings were occupied in walks through thesuperb forests around Rippoldsau, and the afternoons in bowling, playinggraces, and running races. I speedily lost my susceptible heart to acharming young lady named Leontine, who permitted me to be her Knight, and I fancied myself very unjustly treated when, soon after ourseparation, I received her betrothal cards. 

The Easter and Christmas vacations I usually spent in Berlin withmy mother, where I was allowed to attend entertainments given byour friends, at which I met many distinguished persons, among othersAlexander von Humboldt. 

Of political life in the capital at that time there is nothing agreeableto be said. I was always reminded of the state of affairs immediatelyafter my arrival; for during the first years of my school life atKottbus no one was permitted to enter the city without a paper provingidentity, which was demanded by constables at the exits of railwaystations or in the yards of post-houses. Once, when I had nothing toshow except my report, I was admitted, it is true, but a policeman wassent with me to my mother's house to ascertain that the boy of seventeenwas really the person he assumed to be, and not a criminal dangerous tothe state. 

The beautiful aspirations of the Reichstag in Paulskirche were baffled, the constitution of the empire had become a noble historical monumentwhich only a chosen few still remembered. The king, who had hadthe opportunity to place himself at the head of united Germany, hadpreferred to suppress the freedom of his native land rather than topromote its unity. Yet we need not lament his refusal. Blood shedtogether in mutual enthusiasm is a better cement than the decree of anyParliament. 

The ruling powers at that time saw in the constitution only a cage whosebars prevented them from dealing a decisive blow, but whatever theycould reach through the openings they tore and injured as far as layin their power. The words "reactionary" and "liberal" had become catchterms which severed families and divided friends. 

At Komptendorf, and almost everywhere in the country, there was scarcelyany one except Conservatives. Herr von Berndt had driven into the cityto the election. Pastor Albin, the clergyman of his village, voted forthe Liberal candidate. When the pastor asked the former, who was justgetting into his carriage, to take him home, the usually courteous, obliging gentleman, who was driving, exclaimed, "If you don't vote withme you don't ride with me, " and, touching the spirited bays, dashed off, leaving the pastor behind. 

Dr. Boltze was a "Liberal, " and had to endure many a rebuff because hisviews were known to the ministry. Our religious instruction might serveas a mirror of the opinions which were pleasing to the minister. It hadmade the man who imparted it superintendent when comparatively young. The term "mob marriage" for "civil marriage" originated with him, and itought certainly to be inscribed in the Golden Book above. 

He was a fiery zealot, who sought to induce us to share his wrath andscorn when he condemned Bauer, David Strauss, and Lessing. 

When discussing the facts of ecclesiastical history, he understoodhow to rouse us to the utmost, for he was a talented man and a cleverspeaker, but no word of appeal to the heart, no exhortation to love andpeace, ever crossed his lips. 

The vacations were the only time which I spent with my mother. I ceasedto think of her in everything I did, as was the case in Keilhau. Butafter I had been with her for a while, the charm of her personalityagain mastered my soul, her love rekindled mine, and I longed to open mywhole heart to her and tell her everything which interested me. She wasthe only person to whom I read my Poem of the World, as far as it wascompleted. She listened with joyful astonishment, and praised severalpassages which she thought beautiful. Then she warned me not to devotetoo much time to such things at present, but kissed and petted me in away too charming to describe. During the next few days her eyes restedon me with an expression I had always longed to see. I felt that sheregarded me as a man, and she afterwards confessed how great her hopeswere at that time, especially as Professor Tzschirner had encouraged herto cherish them. 

CHAPTER XIX. A ROMANCE WHICH REALLY HAPPENED. 

After returning to Kottbus from the Christmas vacation I plungedheadlong into work, and as I exerted all my powers I made rapidprogress. 

Thus January passed away, and I was so industrious that I often studieduntil long after midnight. I had not even gone to the theatre, thoughI had heard that the Von Hoxar Company was unusually good. The leadinglady, especially, was described as a miracle of beauty and remarkablytalented. This excited my curiosity, and when a school-mate who had madethe stage manager's acquaintance told us that he would be glad to haveus appear at the next performance of The Robbers, I of course promisedto be present. 

We went through our parts admirably, and no one in the crowded housesuspected the identity of the chorus of robbers who sang with so muchfreshness and vivacity. 

I was deeply interested in what was passing on the stage, and, concealedat the wings, I witnessed the greater part of the play. 

Rarely has so charming an Amalie adorned the boards as theeighteen-year-old actress, who, an actor's child, had already beenseveral years on the stage. 

The consequence of this visit to the theatre was that, instead ofstudying historical dates, as I had intended, I took out Panthea andAbradatus, and on that night and every succeeding one, as soon as I hadfinished my work for the manager, I added new five-foot iambics to thetragedy, whose material I drew from Xenophon. 

Whenever the company played I went to the theatre, where I saw thecharming Clara in comedy parts, and found that all the praises Ihad heard of her fell short of the truth. Yet I did not seek heracquaintance. The examination was close at hand, and it scarcely enteredmy mind to approach the actress. But the Fates had undertaken to act asmediators and make me the hero of a romance which ended so speedily, andin a manner which, though disagreeable, was so far from tragical, thatif I desired to weave the story of my own life into a novel I should beashamed to use the extensive apparatus employed by Destiny. 

Rather more than a week had passed since the last performance of TheRobbers, when one day, late in the afternoon, the streets were filledwith uproar. A fire had broken out, and as soon as Professor Braune'slesson was over I joined the human flood. The boiler in the Kubischcloth factory had burst, a part of the huge building near it was inflames, and a large portion of the walls had fallen. 

When, with several school-mates, I reached the scene of the disaster, the fire had already been mastered, but many hands were striving toremove the rubbish and save the workmen buried underneath. I eagerlylent my aid. 

Meanwhile it had grown dark, and we were obliged to work by the light oflanterns. Several men, fortunately all living, had been brought out, andwe thought that the task of rescue was completed, when the rumour spreadthat some girls employed in one of the lower rooms were still missing. 

It was necessary to enter, but the smoke and dust which filled the airseemed to preclude this, and, besides, a high wall above the clearedspace in the building threatened to fall. An architect who had directedwith great skill the removal of the debris was standing close beside meand gave orders to tear down the wall, whose fall would cost more lives. 

Just at that moment I distinctly heard an inexpressibly mournful cryof pain. A narrow shouldered, sickly-looking man, who spite of his veryplain clothing, seemed to belong to the better classes, heard it too, and the word "Horrible!" in tones of the warmest sympathy escaped hislips. Then he bent over the black smoking space, and I did the same. 

The cry was repeated still louder than before, my neighbour and I lookedat each other, and I heard him whisper, "Shall we?"

In an instant I had flung off my coat, put my handkerchief over mymouth, and let myself down into the smoking pit, where I pressed forwardthrough a stifling mixture of lime and particles of sand. 

The groans and cries of the wounded guided me and my companion, who hadinstantly followed, and at last two female figures appeared amid thesmoke and dust on which the lanterns, held above, cast flickering raysof light. 

One was lying prostrate, the other, kneeling, leaned against the wall. We seized the first one, and staggered towards the spot where thelanterns glimmered, and loud shouts greeted us. 

Our example had induced others to leap down too. 

As soon as we were released from our burden we returned for the secondvictim. My companion now carried a lantern. The woman was no longerkneeling, but lay face downward several paces nearer to the narrowpassage choked with stones and lime dust which separated her fromus. She had fainted while trying to follow. I seized her feet, and westaggered on, but ere we could leave the passage which led into thelarger room I heard a loud rattling and thundering above, and the nextinstant something struck my head and everything reeled around me. Yet Idid not drop the blue yarn stockings, but tottered on with them into thelarge open space, where I fell on my knees. 

Still I must have retained my consciousness, for loud shouts andcries reached my ears. Then came a moment with which few in life cancompare--the one when I again inhaled draughts of the pure air ofheaven. 

I now felt that my hair was stained with blood, which had flowed from awound in my head, but I had no time to think of it, for people crowdedaround me saying all sorts of pleasant things. The architect, Winzer, was most cordial of all. His words, "I approve of such foolhardiness, Herr Ebers, " echoed in my ears long afterwards. 

A beam had fallen on my head, but my thick hair had broken the force ofthe blow, and the wound in a few days began to heal. 

My companion in peril was at my side, and as my blood-stained facelooked as if my injuries were serious he invited me to his house, which was close by the scene of the accident. On the way we introducedourselves to each other. His name was Hering, and he was the prompterat the theatre. When the doctor who had been sent to me had finished histask of sewing up the wound and left us, an elderly woman entered, whoserank in life was somewhat difficult to determine. She wore gay flowersin her bonnet, and a cloak made of silk and velvet, but her yellow facewas scarcely that of a "lady. " She came to get a part for her daughter;it was one of the prompter's duties to copy the parts for the variousactors. 

But who was this daughter?

Fraulein Clara, the fair Amalie of The Robbers, the lovely leading ladyof the theatre. 

My daughter has an autograph of Andersen containing the words, "Life isthe fairest fairy tale. "

Ay, our lives are often like fairy tales. 

The Scheherezade "Fate" had found the bridge to lead the student tothe actress, and the means employed were of no less magnitude thana conflagration, the rescue of a life, and a wound, as well as thesomewhat improbable combined action of a student and a prompter. True, more simple methods would scarcely have brought the youth with theexamination in his head and a pretty girl in his heart to seek theacquaintanceship of the fair actress. 

Fate urged me swiftly on; for Clara's mother was an enthusiastic woman, who in her youth had herself been an ornament of the stage, and I canstill hear her exclamation, "My dear young sir, every German girl oughtto kiss that wound!"

I can see her indignantly forbid the prompter to tie his gayhandkerchief over the injury and draw a clean one from her own velvetbag to bind my forehead. Boltze and my school-mates greeted me verywarmly. Director Tzschirner said something very similar to Herr Winzer'sremark. 

And so matters would have remained, and in a few weeks, after passingthe examination, I should have returned to my happy mother, had not aperverse Fate willed otherwise. 

This time a bit of linen was the instrument used to lead me into thepath allotted, for when the wound healed and the handkerchief whichClara's mother had tied round it came back from the wash, I wasuncertain whether to return it in person or send it by a messenger witha few words of thanks. I determined on the latter course; but when, thatsame evening, I saw Clara looking so pretty as the youthful Richelieu, I cast aside my first resolve, and the next day at dusk went to call onthe mother of the charming actress. I should scarcely have venturedto do so in broad daylight, for Herr Ebeling, our zealous religiousinstructor, lived directly opposite. 

The danger, however, merely gave the venture an added zest and, ereI was aware of it I was standing in the large and pretty sitting-roomoccupied by the mother and daughter. 

It was a disappointment not to meet the latter, yet I felt a certainsense of relief. Fate intended to let me escape the storm uninjured, for my heart had been by no means calm since I mounted the narrow stairsleading to the apartments of the fair actress. But just as I was takingleave the pavement echoed with the noise of hoofs and the rattle ofwheels. Prince Puckler's coupe stopped in front of the house and theyoung girl descended the steps. 

She entered the room laughing merrily, but when she saw me she becamegraver, and looked at her mother in surprise. 

A brief explanation, the cry, "Oh, you are the man who was hurt!" andthen the proof that the room did not owe its neat appearance to her, forher cloak flew one way, her hat another, and her gloves a third. Afterthis disrobing she stood before me in the costume of the youthfulRichelieu, so bewitchingly charming, so gay and bright, that I could notrestrain my delight. 

She had come from old Prince Puckler, who, as he never visited thetheatre in the city, wished to see her in the costume whose beauty hadbeen so much praised. The vigorous, gay old gentleman had charmed her, and she declared that she liked him far better than any of the youngmen. But as she knew little of his former life and works, I told her ofhis foolish pranks and chivalrous deeds. 

It seemed as if her presence increased my powers of description, andwhen I at last took leave she exclaimed: "You'll come again, won't you?After one has finished one's part, it's the best time to talk. "

Did I wait to be asked a second time? Oh, no! Even had I not been the"foolhardy Ebers, " I should have accepted her invitation. The very nextevening I was in the pleasant sitting-room, and whenever I couldslip away after supper I went to the girl, whom I loved more and moreardently. Sometimes I repeated poems of my own, sometimes she recitedand acted passages from her best parts, amid continual jesting andlaughter. My visits seemed like so many delightful festivals, andClara's mother took care that they were not so long as to weary hertreasure. She often fell asleep while we were reading and talking, but usually she sent me away before midnight with "There's another daycoming to-morrow. " Long before my first visit to the young actress I hadarranged a way of getting into the house at any time, and Dr. Boltzehad no suspicion of my expeditions, since on my return I strove the morezealously to fulfil all my school duties. 

This sounds scarcely credible, yet it is strictly true, for from a childup to the present time I have always succeeded, spite of interruptionsof every kind, in devoting myself to the occupation in which I wasengaged. Loud noises in an adjoining room, or even tolerably severephysical pain, will not prevent my working on as soon as the subjectso masters me as to throw the external world and my own body into thebackground. Only when the suffering becomes very intense, the wholebeing must of necessity yield to it. 

During the hours of the night which followed these evening visitsI often succeeded in working earnestly for two or three hours inpreparation for the examination. During my recitations, however, weariness asserted itself, and even more strongly the new feeling whichhad obtained complete mastery over me. Here I could not shake off thedelightful memories of these evenings because I did not strive to battlewith them. 

I am not without talent for drawing, and even at that time it was aneasy matter to reproduce anything which had caught my eye, not onlydistinctly, but sometimes attractively and with a certain degree offidelity to nature. So my note-book was filled with figures which amazedme when I saw them afterwards, for my excited imagination had filledpage after page with a perfect Witch's Sabbath of compositions, in whichthe oddest scrolls and throngs of genii blended with flowers, buds, and all sorts of emblems of love twined around initial letters orthe picture of the person who had captured my heart at a time soinopportune. 

I owe the suggestion of some verses which were written at that timeto the memory of a dream. I was on the back of a swan, which bore methrough the air, and on another swan flying at my side sat Clara. Ourhands were clasped. It was delightful until I bent to kiss her; thenthe swan I rode melted into mist, and I plunged headlong down, falling, falling, until I woke. 

I had this dream on the Friday before the beginning of the week in whichthe first examination was to take place; and it is worthy of mention, for it was fulfilled. 

True, I needed no prophetic vision to inform me that this time ofhappiness was drawing to a close. I had long known that the company wasto remove from Kottbus to Guben, but I hoped that the separation wouldbe followed by a speedy meeting. 

It was certainly fortunate that she was going, yet the parting was hardto bear; for the evening hours I had spent with her in innocent mirthand the interchange of all that was best in our hearts and minds werefilled with exquisite enjoyment. The fact that our intercourse was in acertain sense forbidden fruit merely doubled its charm. 

How cautiously I had glided along in the shadows of the houses, howanxiously I had watched the light in the minister's study opposite, whenI went home!

True, he would have seen nothing wrong or even unseemly, save perhapsthe kiss which Clara gave me the last time she lighted me down stairs, yet that would have been enough to shut me out of the examination. Ah!yes, it was fortunate that she was going. 

March had come, the sun shone brightly, the air was as warm as in May, and I had carried the mother and daughter some violets which I hadgathered myself. Suddenly I thought how delightful it would be to drivewith Clara in an open carriage through the spring beauty of the country. The next day was Sunday. If I went with them and spent the night inGuben I could reach home in time the next day. I need only tell Dr. Boltze I was going to Komptendorf, and order the carriage, to transformthe dear girl's departure into a holiday. 

Again Fate interfered with the course of this story; for on my way toschool that sunny Saturday morning I met Clara's mother, and at sightof her the wish merged into a resolve. I followed her into the shop sheentered and explained my plan. She thought it would be delightful, andpromised to wait for me at a certain place outside of the city. 

The plan was carried out. I found them at the appointed spot, my darlingas fresh as a rose. If love and joy had any substantial weight, thehorses would have found it a hard matter to drag the vehicle swiftly on. 

But at the first toll-house, while the toll-keeper was changing somemoney, I experienced the envy of the gods which hitherto I had knownonly in Schiller's ballad. A pedestrian passed--the teacher whom I hadoffended by playing all sorts of pranks during his French lesson. Notone of the others disliked me. 

He spoke to me, but I pretended not to understand, hastily took thechange from the toll-keeper, and, raising my hat, shouted, "Drive on!"

This highly virtuous gentleman scorned the young actress, and as, onaccount of my companions, he had not returned my greeting, Clara flashedinto comical wrath, which stifled in its germ my thought of leaving thecarriage and going on foot to Komptendorf, where Dr. Boltze believed meto be. 

Clara rewarded my courageous persistence by special gaiety, and when wehad reached Guben, taken supper with some other members of the company, and spent the evening in merriment, danger and all the ills which thefuture might bring were forgotten. 

The next morning I breakfasted with Clara and her mother, and in biddingthem good-bye added "Till we meet again, " for the way to Berlin wasthrough Guben, where the railroad began. 

The carriage which had brought us there took me back to Kottbus. Severalmembers of the company entered it and went part of the way, returning onfoot. When they left me twilight was gathering, but the happiness I hadjust enjoyed shone radiantly around me, and I lived over for the secondtime all the delights I had experienced. 

But the nearer I approached Kottbus the more frequently arose thefear that the French teacher might make our meeting the cause ofan accusation. He had already complained of me for very trivialdelinquencies and would hardly let this pass. And yet he might. 

Was it a crime to drive with a young girl of stainless reputation underher mother's oversight? No. I had done nothing wrong, except to say thatI was going to Komptendorf--and that offence concerned only Dr. Boltze, to whom I had made the false statement. 

At last I fell asleep, until the wheels rattled on the pavement of thecity streets. Was my dream concerning the swan to be fulfilled?

I entered the house early. Dr. Boltze was waiting for me, and his wife'stroubled face betrayed what had happened even more plainly than herhusband's frown. 

The French teacher had instantly informed my tutor where and with whomhe had met me, and urged him to ascertain whether I had really gone toKomptendorf. Then he went to Clara's former residence, questioned thelandlady and her servant, and finally interrogated the livery-stablekeeper. 

The mass of evidence thus gathered proved that I had paid the actressnumerous visits, and always at dusk. My dream seemed fulfilled, butafter I had told Dr. Boltze and his wife the whole truth a quiet talkfollowed. The former did not give up the cause as lost, though he didnot spare reproaches, while his wife's wrath was directed against theinformer rather than the offence committed by her favourite. 

After a restless night I went to Professor Tzschirner and told himeverything, without palliation or concealment. He censured my frivolityand lack of consideration for my position in life, but every word, every feature of his expressive face showed that he grieved for what hadhappened, and would have gladly punished it leniently. In after yearshe told me so. Promising to make every effort to save me from exclusionfrom the examination in the conference which he was to call at the closeof the afternoon session, he dismissed me--and he kept his word. 

I know this, for I succeeded in hearing the discussion. The porter ofthe gymnasium was the father of the boy whom my friend Lebenstein and Ikept to clean our boots, etc. He was a conscientious, incorruptibleman, but the peculiar circumstances of the case led him to yield to myentreaties and admit me to a room next to the one where the conferencewas held. I am grateful to him still, for it is due to this kindnessthat I can think without resentment of those whose severity robbed me ofsix months of my life. 

This conference taught me how warm a friend I possessed in ProfessorTzschirner, and showed that Professor Braune was kindly disposed. I remember how my heart overflowed with gratitude when ProfessorTzschirner sketched my character, extolled my rescue of life at theKubisch factory, and eloquently urged them to remember their own youthand judge what had happened impartially. I should have belied my naturehad I not availed myself of the chain of circumstances which broughtme into association with the actress to make the acquaintance of socharming a creature. 

To my joyful surprise Herr Ebeling agreed with him, and spoke sopleasantly of me and of Clara, concerning whom he had inquired, that Ibegan to hope he was on my side. 

Unfortunately, the end of his speech destroyed all the prospects heldout in the beginning. 

Space forbids further description of the discussion. The majority, spiteof the passionate hostility of the informer, voted not to expel me, butto exclude me from the examination this time, and advise me to leave theschool. If, however, I preferred to remain, I should be permitted to doso. 

At the close of the session I was standing in the square in front of theschool when Professor Tzschirner approached, and I asked his permissionto leave school that very day. A smile of satisfaction flitted over hismanly, intellectual face, and he granted my request at once. 

So my Kottbus school-days ended, and, unfortunately, in a way unlikewhat I had hoped. When I said farewell to Professor Tzschirner and hiswife I could not restrain my tears. His eyes, too, were dim, and herepeated to me what I had already heard him say in the conference, andwrote the same thing to my mother in a letter explaining my departurefrom the school. The report which he sent with it contains not a singleword to indicate a compulsory withdrawal or the advice to leave it. 

When I had stopped at Guben and said goodbye to Clara my dream wasliterally fulfilled. Our delightful intercourse had come to a suddenend. Fortunately, I was the only sufferer, for to my great joy I hearda few months after that she had made a successful debut at the Dresdencourt theatre. 

I was, of course, less joyfully received in Berlin than usual, but theletters from Professor Tzschirner and Frau Boltze put what had occurredin the right light to my mother--nay, when she saw how I grieved overmy separation from the young girl whose charms still filled my heart andmind, her displeasure was transformed into compassion. She also sawhow difficult it was for me to meet the friends and guardian who hadexpected me to return as a graduate, and drew her darling, whom for thefirst time she called her "poor boy, " still closer to her heart. 

Then we consulted about the future, and it was decided that I shouldgraduate from the gymnasium of beautiful Quedlinburg. ProfessorSchmidt's house was warmly recommended, and was chosen for my home. 

I set out for my new abode full of the best resolutions. But atMagdeburg I saw in a show window a particularly tasteful bonnet trimmedwith lilies of the valley and moss-rose buds. The sight brought Clara'sface framed in it vividly be fore my eyes, and drew me into the shop. Itwas a Paris pattern-hat and very expensive, but I spent the larger partof my pocket-money in purchasing it and ordered it to be sent to thegirl whose image still filled my whole soul. Hitherto I had given hernothing except a small locket and a great many flowers. 

CHAPTER XX. AT THE QUEDLINBURG GYMNASIUM

The atmosphere of Quedlinburg was far different from that of the Markfactory town of Kottbus. How fresh, how healthful, how stimulating toindustry and out-door exercise it was!

Everything in the senior class was just as it should be. 

In Kottbus the pupils addressed each other formally. There were at theutmost, I think, not more than half a dozen with whom I was on terms ofintimacy. In Quedlinburg a beautiful relation of comradeship united allthe members of the school. During study hours we were serious, but inthe intervals we were merry enough. 

Its head, Professor Richter, the learned editor of the fragments ofSappho, did not equal Tzschirner in keenness of intellect and bewitchingpowers of description, yet we gladly followed the worthy man'sinterpretations. 

Many a leisure day and hour we spent in the beautiful Hartz Mountains. But, best of all, was my home in Quedlinburg, the house of my tutor, Professor Adalbert Schmidt, an admirable man of forty, who seemedextremely gentle and yielding, but when necessary could be veryperemptory, and allowed those under his charge to make no trespass onhis authority. 

His wife was a model of amiable, almost timid womanliness. Hersister-in-law, the widow of a magistrate, Frau Pauline Schmidt, sharedthe care of the pupils and the beautiful, large garden; while herpretty, bright young sons and daughters increased the charm of theintercourse. 

How pleasant were the evenings we spent in the family circle! We read, talked, played, and Frau Pauline Schmidt was a ready listener when everI felt disposed to communicate to any one what I had written. 

Among my school friends were some who listened to my writings and showedme their own essays. My favorite was Carl Hey, grandson of WilhelmHey, who understood child nature so well, and wrote the pretty versesaccompanying the illustrations in the Speckter Fables, named for theartist, a book still popular with little German boys and girls. I wasalso warmly attached to the enthusiastic Hubotter, who, under the nameof "Otter, " afterwards became the ornament of many of the larger Germantheatres. Lindenbein, Brosin, the talented Gosrau, and the no lessgifted Schwalbe, were also dear friends. 

At first I had felt much older than my companions, and I really hadseen more of life; but I soon perceived that they were splendid, lovablefellows. My wounded heart speedily healed, and the better my physicaland mental condition became the more my demon stirred within me. It wasno merit of mine if I was not dubbed "the foolhardy Ebers" here also. The summer in Quedlinburg was a delightful season of mingled work andpleasure. An Easter journey through the Hartz with some gay companions, which included an ascent of the Brocken--already once climbed fromKeilhau--is among my most delightful memories. 

Like the Thuringian Mountains, the Hartz are also wreathed with agarland of legends and historical memories. Some of its fairest blossomsare in the immediate vicinity of Quedlinburg. These and the delight innature with which I here renewed my old bond tempted more than one of usto write, and very different poems, deeper and with more true feeling, than those produced in Kottbus. A poetic atmosphere from the Hercynianwoods and the monuments of ancient days surrounded our lives. It wasdelightful to dream under the rustling beeches of the neighbouringforest; and in the church with its ancient graves and the crypt of St. Wiperti Cloister, the oldest specimen of Christian art in that region, we were filled with reverence for the days of old. 

The life of the great Henry, which I had celebrated in verse at Kottbus, became a reality to me here; and what a powerful influence a visit tothe ancient cloister exerted on our young souls! The nearest relativesof mighty sovereigns had dwelt as abbesses within its walls. But twogenerations ago Anna Amalie, the hapless sister of Frederick the Great, died while holding this office. 

A strange and lasting impression was wrought upon me by a corpse anda picture in this convent. Both were in a subterranean chamber whichpossessed the property of preserving animal bodies from corruption. Inthis room was the body of Countess Aurora von Konigsmark, famed as themost beautiful woman of her time. After a youth spent in splendour shehad retired to the cloister as superior, and there she now lay unveiled, rigid, and yellow, although every feature had retained the form it hadin death. Beside the body hung her portrait, taken at the time when asmile on her lips, a glance from her eyes, was enough to fire the heartof the coldest man. 

A terrible antithesis!

Here the portrait of the blooming, beautiful husk of a soul exulting inhaughty arrogance; yonder that husk itself, transformed by the hand ofdeath into a rigid, colourless caricature, a mummy without embalming. 

Art, too, had a place in Quedlinburg. I still remember with pleasureSteuerwald's beautiful winter landscapes, into which he so cleverlyintroduced the mediaeval ruins of the Hartz region. 

Thus, Quedlinburg was well suited to arouse poetic feelings in younghearts, steep the soul with love for the beautiful, time-honouredregion, and yet fill it with the desire to make distant lands its own. Every one knows that this was Klopstock's birthplace; but the greatestgeographer of all ages, Karl Ritter, whose mighty mind grasped the wholeuniverse as if it were the precincts of his home, also first saw thelight of the world here. 

Gutsmuths, the founder of the gymnastic system, Bosse, the presentMinister of Public Worship and Instruction, and Julius Wolff, arechildren of Quedlinburg and pupils of its gymnasium. 

The long vacation came between the written and verbal examinations, and as I had learned privately that my work had been sufficientlysatisfactory, my mother gave me permission to go to the Black Forest, towhich pleasant memories attracted me. But my friend Hey had seen nothingof the world, so I chose a goal more easily attained, and took him withme to the Rhine. I went home by the way of Gottingen, and what Isaw there of the Saxonia corps filled me with such enthusiasm that Iresolved to wear the blue, white, and blue ribbon. 

The oral was also successfully examination passed, and I returned tomy mother, who received me at Hosterwitz with open arms. The resolveto devote myself to the study of law and to commence in Gottingen wasformed, and received her approval. 

For what reason I preferred the legal profession it would be hardto say. Neither mental bias nor interest gained by any searchingexamination of the science to which I wished to devote myself, turnedthe scale. I actually gave less thought to my profession and my wholemental and external life than I should have bestowed upon the choice ofa residence. 

In the ideal school, as I imagine it, the pupils of the senior classshould be briefly made acquainted with what each one of the principalprofessions offers and requires from its members. The principal of theinstitution should also aid by his counsel the choice of the youngmen with whose talents and tastes long intercourse had rendered himfamiliar. 

 [It should never contain more than seventy pupils. Barop, when I met him after I attained my maturity, named sixty as the largest number which permitted the teacher to know and treat individually the boys confided to his care. He would never receive more at Keilhau. ]

Of course I imagine this man not only a teacher but an educator, familiar not alone with the school exercises, but with the mentaland physical characteristics of those who are to graduate from theuniversity. 

Had not the heads of the Keilhau Institute lost their pupils so young, they would undoubtedly have succeeded in guiding the majority to theright profession. 

CHAPTER XXI. AT THE UNIVERSITY. 

The weeks following my graduation were as ill suited as possible to thedecision of any serious question. 

After a gay journey through Bohemia which ended in venerable Prague, I divided my time between Hosterwitz, Blasewitz, and Dresden. In thelatter city I met among other persons, principally old friends, the sonof my uncle Brandenstein, an Austrian lieutenant on leave of absence. Ispent many a pleasant evening with him and his comrades, who were alsoon leave. These young gentlemen considered the Italians, against whomthey fought, as rebels, while a cousin of my uncle, then Colonel vonBrandenstein, but afterwards promoted in the Franco-Austrian war in 1859and 1866 to the rank of master of ordnance, held a totally differentopinion. This clever, warmhearted soldier understood the Italians andtheir struggle for unity and freedom, and judged them so justly andtherefore favorably, that he often aroused the courteous opposition ofhis younger comrades. I did not neglect old friends, however, and when Idid not go to the theatre in the evening I ended the day with my auntat Blasewitz. But, on my mother's account, I was never long absentfrom Hosterwitz. I enjoyed being with her so much. We drove and walkedtogether, and discussed everything the past had brought and the futurepromised. 

Yet I longed for academic freedom, and especially to sit at the feet ofan Ernst Curtius, and be initiated by Waitz into the methodical study ofhistory. 

The evening before my departure my mother drove with me to Blasewitz, where there was an elegant entertainment at which the lyric poet JuliusHammer, the author of "Look Around You and Look Within You, " who wasto become a dear friend of mine, extolled in enthusiastic verse thedelights of student liberty and the noble sisters Learning and Poesy. 

The glowing words echoed in my heart and mind after I had torn myselffrom the arms of my mother and of the woman who, next to her, wasdearest to me on earth, my aunt, and was travelling toward my goal. Ifever the feeling that I was born to good fortune took possession of me, it was during that journey. 

I did not know what weariness meant, and when, on reaching Gottingen, Ilearned that the students' coffee-house was still closed and that no onewould arrive for three or four days, I went to Cassel to visit the royalgarden in Wilhelmshohe. 

At the station I saw a gentleman who looked intently at me. His face, too, seemed familiar. I mentioned my name, and the next instant he hadembraced and kissed me. Two Keilhau friends had met, and, with sunshinealike in our hearts and in the blue sky, we set off together to seeeverything of note in beautiful Cassel. 

When it was time to part, Von Born told me so eagerly how many of ourold school-mates were now living in Westphalia, and how delightful itwould be to see them, that I yielded and went with him to the birthplaceof Barop and Middendorf. The hours flew like one long revel, and myexuberant spirits made my old school-mates, who, engaged in businessenterprises, were beginning to look life solemnly in the face, feel asif the carefree Keilhau days had returned. On going back to Gottingen, Istill had to wait a few days for the real commencement of the term, butI was received at the station by the "Saxons, " donned the blue cap, andengaged pleasant lodgings--though the least adapted to serious studyin the "Schonhutte, " a house in Weenderstrasse whose second story wasoccupied by our corps room. 

My expectations of the life with young men of congenial tastes werecompletely fulfilled. Most of them belonged to the nobility, but thebeloved "blue, white, and blue" removed all distinctions of birth. 

By far the most talented of its members was Count (now Prince) Otto vonStolberg-Wernegerode, who was afterwards to hold so high a position inthe service of the Prussian Government. 

Among the other scions of royal families were the hereditary PrinceLouis of Hesse-Darmstadt and his brother Henry. Both were vivacious, agreeable young men, who entered eagerly into all the enjoyments ofstudent and corps life. The older brother, who died as Grand Duke, continued his friendship for me while sovereign of his country. I wasafterwards indebted to him for the pleasure of making the acquaintanceof his wife Alice, one of the most remarkable women whom I have evermet. --[Princess Alice of England, the daughter of Queen Victoria. -TR. ]

Oh, what delightful hours we spent in the corps room, singingand revelling, in excursions through the beautiful scenes in theneighbourhood, and on the fencing ground, testing our strength andskill, man to man! Every morning we woke to fresh pleasures, and everyevening closed a spring festal day, radiant with the sunlight of libertyand the magic of friendship. 

Our dinner was eaten together at the "Krone" with the most jovial ofhosts, old Betmann, whose card bore the pictures of a bed and a man. Then came coffee, drunk at the museum or at some restaurant outsideof the city, riding, or a duel, or there was some excursion, or theentertainment of a fellow-student from some other university, andfinally the tavern. 

Many an evening also found me with some friends at the Schuttenhof, where the young Philistines danced with the little burgher girls andpretty dressmakers. They were all, however, of unsullied reputation, andhow merrily I swung them around till the music ceased! These innocentamusements could scarcely have injured my robust frame, yet when someunusual misfortune happens it is a trait of human nature to seek itsfirst germ in the past. I, too, scanned the period immediately precedingmy illness, but reached the conclusion that it was due to acute colds, the first of which ran into a very violent fever. 

Had the result been otherwise I certainly should not have permitted mysons to enjoy to the utmost the happy period which in my case was toosoon interrupted. 

True, the hours of the night which I devoted to study could scarcelyhave been beneficial to my nervous system; for when, with burning headand full of excitement, I returned from the tavern which was closed, byrule, at eleven--from the "Schuttenhof, " or some ball or entertainment, I never went to rest; that was the time I gave the intellect its due. Legal studies were pursued during the hours of the night only at thecommencement of my stay in Gottingen, for I rarely attended the lecturesfor which I had entered my name, though the brevity of the Romandefinitions of law, with which Ribbentropp's lectures had made mefamiliar, afforded me much pleasure. Unfortunately, I could not attendthe lectures of Ernst Curtius, who had just been summoned to Gottingen, on account of the hours at which they were given. My wish to joinWaitz's classes was also unfulfilled, but I went to those of thephilosopher Lotze, and they opened a new world to me. I was also one ofthe most eager of Professor Unger's hearers. 

Probably his "History of Art" would have attracted me for its own sake, but I must confess that at first his charming little daughter was thesole magnet which drew me to his lectures; for on account of displayingthe pictures he delivered them at his own house. 

Unfortunately, I rarely met the fair Julie, but, to make amends, I foundthrough her father the way to that province of investigation to which myafter-life was to be devoted. 

In several lessons he discussed subtly and vividly the art of theEgyptians, mentioning Champollion's deciphering of the hieroglyphics. 

This great intellectual achievement awakened my deepest interest. I wentat once to the library, and Unger selected the books which seemed bestadapted to give me further instruction. 

I returned with Champollion's Grammaire Hieroglyphique, Lepsius'sLettre a Rosellini, and unfortunately with some misleading writings bySeyffarth. 

How often afterward, returning in the evening from some entertainment, Ihave buried myself in the grammar and tried to write hieroglyphics. 

True, I strove still more frequently and persistently to follow thephilosopher Lotze. 

Obedient to a powerful instinct, my untrained intellect had sought toread the souls of men. Now I learned through Lotze to recognize the bodyas the instrument to which the emotions of the soul, the harmonies anddiscords of the mental and emotional life, owe their origin. 

I intended later to devote myself earnestly to the study ofphysiology, for without it Lotze could be but half understood; and fromphysiologists emanated the conflict which at that time so deeply stirredthe learned world. 

In Gottingen especially the air seemed, as it were, filled withphysiological and other questions of the natural sciences. 

In that time of the most sorrowful reaction the political condition ofGermany was so wretched that any discussion concerning it was gladlyavoided. I do not remember having attended a single debate on that topicin the circles of the students with which I was nearly connected. 

But the great question "Materialism or Antimaterialism" still agitatedthe Georgia Augusta, in whose province the conflict had assumed stillsharper forms, owing to Rudolf Wagner's speech during the convention ofthe Guttingen naturalists three years prior to my entrance. 

Carl Vogt's "Science and Bigotry" exerted a powerful influence, owing tothe sarcastic tone in which the author attacked his calmer adversary. In the honest conviction of profound knowledge, the clever, vigorouschampion of materialism endeavoured to brand the opponents of his dogmaswith the stigma of absurdity, and those who flattered themselves withthe belief that they belonged to the ranks of the "strong-minded"followed his standard. 

Hegel's influence was broken, Schelling's idealism had been thrustaside. The solid, easily accessible fare of the materialists wasespecially relished by those educated in the natural sciences, andVogt's maxim, that thought stands in a similar relation to the brain asthe gall to the liver and the excretions of the other organs, metwith the greater approval the more confidently and wittily it waspromulgated. The philosopher could not help asserting that the nature ofthe soul could be disclosed neither by the scalpel nor the microscope;yet the discoveries of the naturalist, which had led to the perceptionof the relation existing between the psychical and material life seemedto give the most honest, among whom Carl Vogt held the first rank; aright to uphold their dogmas. 

Materialism versus Antimaterialism was the subject under discussionin the learned circles of Germany. Nay, I remember scarcely any otherpowerful wave of the intellect visible during this period of stagnation. 

Philosophy could not fail to be filled with pity and disapproval tosee the independent existence of the soul, as it were, authoritativelyreaffirmed by a purely empirical science, and also brought into thefield all the defensive forces at her command. But throngs flocked tothe camp of Materialism, for the trumpets of her leaders had a clearer, more confident sound than the lower and less readily understood opposingcries of the philosophers. 

Vogt's wrath was directed with special keenness against my teacher, Lotze. These topics were rarely discussed at the tavern or among themembers of the corps. I first heard them made the subject of an animatedexchange of thought in the Dirichlet household, where ProfessorBaum emerged from his aristocratic composure to denounce vehementlymaterialism and its apostles. Of course I endeavoured to gaininformation about things which so strongly moved intellectual men, andread in addition to Lotze's books the polemical writings which were atthat time in everybody's hands. 

Vogt's caustic style charmed me, but it was not due solely to thereligious convictions which I had brought from my home and from Keilhauthat I perceived that here a sharp sword was swung by a strong arm tocut water. The wounds it dealt would not bleed, for they were inflictedupon a body against which it had as little power as Satan against thecross. 

When, before I became acquainted with Feuerbach, I flung my books aside, wearied or angered, I often seized in the middle of the night my monsterPoem of the World, my tragedy of Panthea and Abradatus, or some otherpoetical work, and did not retire till the wick of the lamp burned outat three in the morning. 

When I think how much time and earnest labour were lavished on thatpoem, I regret having yielded to the hasty impulse to destroy it. 

I have never since ventured to undertake anything on so grand a scale. I could repeat only a few lines of the verses it contained; but theplan of the whole work, as I rounded it in Gottingen and Hosterwitz, Iremember perfectly, and I think, if only for the sake of its peculiarityand as the mirror of a portion of my intellectual life at that time, itsmain outlines deserve reproduction here. 

I made Power and Matter, which I imagined as a formless element; thebasis of all existence. These two had been cast forth by the divineRuler of a world incomprehensible to human intelligence, in which thepresent is a moment, space a bubble, as out of harmony with the mightyconditions and purposes of his realm. But this supreme Ruler offered tocreate for them a world suited to their lower plane of existence. PowerI imagined a man, Matter a woman. They were hostile to each other, for he despised his quiet, inert companion, she feared her restless, unyielding partner; yet the power of the ruler of the higher worldforced them to wed. 

From their loveless union sprang the earth, the stars-in short, allinorganic life. 

When the latter showed its relation to the father, Power, by theimpetuous rush of the stars through space, by terrible eruptions, etc. , the mother, Matter, was alarmed, and as, to soothe them, she drew intoher embrace the flaming spheres, which dashed each other to piecesin their mad career, and restrained the fiercest, her chill heart waswarmed by her children's fire. 

Thus, as it were, raised to a higher condition, she longed for lessunruly children, and her husband, Power, who, though he would havegladly cast her off, was bound to her by a thousand ties, took pity uponher, because her listlessness and coldness were transformed to warmthand motion, and another child sprang from their union, love. 

But she seemed to have been born to misery, and wandered mournfullyabout, weeping and lamenting because she lacked an object for which tolabour. True, she drew from the flaming, smoking bodies which she kisseda soft, beneficent light, she induced some to give up their formerimpetuosity and respect the course of others, and plants and treessprang from the earth where her lips touched it, yet her longing toreceive something which would be in harmony with her own nature remainedunsatisfied. 

But she was a lovely child and the darling of her father, whom, by herentreaties, she persuaded to animate with his own nature the shapeswhich she created in sport, those of the animals. 

From this time there were living creatures moved by Power and Love. But again they brought trouble to the mother; for they were stirredby fierce passions, under whose influence they attacked and rent eachother. But Love did not cease to form new shapes until she attained themost beautiful, the human form. 

Yet human beings were stirred by the same feelings as the animals, andLove's longing for something in which she could find comfort remainedunsatisfied, till, repelled by her savage father and her listlessmother, she flung herself in despair from a rock. But being immortal, she did not perish. 

Her blood sprinkled the earth, and from her wounds exhaled an exquisitefragrance, which rose higher and higher till it reached the realm whencecame her parents; and its supreme ruler took pity on the exile's child, and from the blood of Love grew at his sign a lily, from which arose, radiant in white garments, Intellect, which the Most High had breathedinto the flower. 

He came from that higher world to ours, but only a vague memory of hisformer home was permitted, lest he should compare his present abode withthe old one and scorn it. 

As soon as he met Love he was attracted towards her, and she ardentlyaccepted his suit; yet the first embrace chilled her, and her fervourstartled and repelled him. So, each fearing the other's tenderness, they shunned each other, though an invincible charm constantly drew themtogether. 

Love continued to yearn for him even after she had sundered the bond;but he often yielded to the longing for his higher home, of whosesplendours he retained a memory, and soared upward. Yet whenever he drewnear he was driven back to the other. 

There he directed sometimes with Love, sometimes alone, the life ofeverything in the universe, or in unison with her animated men with hisbreath. 

He did this sometimes willingly, sometimes reluctantly, with greater orless strength, according to the nearness he had attained to his heavenlyhome; but when he had succeeded in reaching its circle of light, hereturned wonderfully invigorated. Then whoever Love and he joined inanimating with their breath became an artist. 

There was also a thoroughly comic figure and one with many humoroustouches. Intellect's page, Instinct, who had risen from the lily withhim, was a comical fellow. When he tried to follow his master's flighthe fell after the first few strokes of his wings, and usually amongnettles. Only when some base advantage was to be gained on earth didthis servant succeed better than his master. The mother, Matter, whomfor the sake of the verse I called by her Greek name Hyle, wasalso invested with a shade of comedy as a dissatisfied wife and themother-in-law of Intellect. 

In regard to the whole Poem of the World I will observe that, up to thetime I finished the last line, I had never studied the kindred systemsof the Neo-Platonics or the Gnostics. 

The verses which described the moment when Matter drew her fierychildren to her heart and thus warmed it, another passage in which menwho were destitute of intellect sought to destroy themselves andLove resolved to sacrifice her own life, and, lastly, the song whereIntellect rises from the lily, besides many others, were worthy, in myopinion, of being preserved. 

What first diverted my attention from the work was, as has beenmentioned, the study of Feuerbach, to which I had been induced by aletter from the geographer Karl Andree. I eagerly seized his books, first choosing his "Axioms of the Philosophy of the Future, " andafterwards devoured everything he had written which the librarycontained. And at that time I was grateful to my friend the geographerfor his advice. True, Feuerbach seemed to me to shatter many thingswhich from a child I had held sacred; yet I thought I discovered behindthe falling masonry the image of eternal truth. 

The veil which I afterwards saw spread over so many things inFeuerbach's writings at that time produced the same influence upon meas the mist whence rise here the towers, yonder the battlements of acastle. It might be large or small; the grey mist which forbids the eyefrom definitely measuring its height and width by no means prevents thetraveller, who knows that a powerful lord possesses the citadel, frombelieving it to be as large and well guarded as the power of its rulerwould imply. 

True, I was not sufficiently mature for the study of this great thinker, whom I afterwards saw endanger other unripe minds. As a disciple of thismaster there were many things to be destroyed which from childhoodhad become interlaced by a thousand roots and fibres with my wholeintellectual organism, and such operations are not effected withoutpain. 

What I learned while seeking after truth during those night hours oughtto have taught me the connection between mind and body; yet I was neverfarther from perceiving it. A sharp division had taken place in mynature. By night, in arduous conflict, I led a strange mental life, known to myself alone; by day all this was forgotten, unless--and howrarely this happened--some conversation recalled it. 

From my first step out of doors I belonged to life, to the corps, topleasure. What was individual existence, mortality, or the eternal lifeof the soul! Minerva's bird is an owl. Like it, these learned questionsbelonged to the night. They should cast no shadow on the brightness ofmy day. When I met the first friend in the blue cap no one need havesung our corps song, "Away with cares and crotchets!"

At no time had the exuberant joy in mere existence stirred more stronglywithin me. My whole nature was filled with the longing to utilize andenjoy this brief earthly life which Feuerbach had proved was to end withdeath. 

 Better an hour's mad revel, E'en a kiss from a Moenad's lip, Than a year of timid doubting, Daring only to taste and sip, were the closing lines of a song which I composed at this time. 

So my old wantonness unfolded its wings, but it was not to remain alwaysunpunished. 

My mother had gone to Holland with Paula just before Advent, and as Icould not spend my next vacation at home, she promised to furnish mewith means to take a trip through the great German Hanse cities. 

In Bremen I was most cordially received in the family of Mohr, a memberof my corps, in whose circle I spent some delightful hours, and also anevening never to be forgotten in the famous old Rathskeller. 

But I wished to see the harbour of the great commercial city, and theships which ploughed the ocean to those distant lands for which I hadoften longed. 

Since I had shot my first hare in Komptendorf and brought down myfirst partridge from the air, the love of sport had never slumbered;I gratified it whenever I could, and intended to take a boat fromBremerhaven and go as near as possible to the sea, where I could shootthe cormorants and the bald-headed eagles which hunters on the seashoreclass among the most precious booty. 

In Bremerhaven an architect whose acquaintance I had made on the waybecame my cicerone, and showed me all the sights of the small but veryquaint port. I had expected to find the bustle on shore greater, butwhat a throng of ships and boats, masts and smoke-stacks I saw!

My guide showed me the last lighthouse which had been built, and took meon board of a mail steamer which was about to sail to America. 

I was deeply interested in all this, but my companion promised toshow me things still more remarkable if I would give up my shootingexcursion. 

Unfortunately, I insisted upon my plan, and the next morning sailed ina pouring rain through a dense mist to the mouth of the Weser and outto sea. But, instead of pleasure and booty, I gained on this expeditionnothing but discomfort and drenching, which resulted in a violent cold. 

What I witnessed and experienced in my journey back to Cuttingen isscarcely worth mentioning. The only enjoyable hours were spent at thetheatre in Hanover, where I saw Niemann in Templar and Jewess, and forthe first time witnessed the thoroughly studied yet perfectly naturalimpersonations of Marie Seebach. I also remember with much pleasure theroyal riding-school in charge of General Meyer. Never have I seen thestrength of noble chargers controlled and guided with so much firmness, ease, and grace as by the hand of this officer, the best horseman inGermany. 

CHAPTER XXII. THE SHIPWRECK

The state of health in which, still with a slight fever recurring everyafternoon, I returned to Gottingen was by no means cheering. 

Besides, I was obliged at once to undergo the five days' imprisonmentto which I had been justly sentenced for reckless shooting across thestreet. 

During the day I read, besides some very trashy novels, several by JeanPaul, with most of which I had become familiar while a school-boy in thefirst class. 

They had given me so much pleasure that I was vexed with theindifference with which some of my friends laid the works of the greathumorist aside. 

There were rarely any conversations on the more serious scientificsubjects among the members of the corps, though it did not lack talentedyoung men, and some of the older ones were industrious. 

Nothing, perhaps, lends the life of the corps a greater charm than theaffectionate intercourse which unites individuals. 

I was always sure of finding sympathizers for everything that touched myfeelings. 

With regard to the results of my nocturnal labour the case was verydifferent. If any one else had "bored" me at the tavern about his viewsof Feuerbach and Lotze, I should undoubtedly have stopped him withGoethe's "Ergo bibamus. "

There was one person in Gottingen, however, Herbert Pernice, from whomI might expect full sympathy. Though only five years my senior, he wasalready enrolled among the teachers of the legal faculty. The vigourand keenness of his intellect and the extent of his knowledge were asamazing as his corpulence. 

One evening I had met him at the Krone and left the table at which hepresided in a very enthusiastic state of mind; for while emptying Iknow not how many bottles of Rhine wine he directed the conversationapparently unconsciously. 

Each of his statements seemed to strike the nail on the head. 

The next day, to my great delight, I met him again at Professor Baum's. He had retreated from the ladies, whom he always avoided, and as wewere alone in the room I soon succeeded in turning the conversation uponFeuerbach, for I fairly longed to have another person's opinion of him. Besides, I was certain of hearing the philosopher criticised by theconservative antimaterialistic Pernice in an original manner--that is, if he knew him at all. True, I might have spared myself the doubt; forinto what domain of humanistic knowledge had not this highly talentedman entered!

Feuerbach was thoroughly familiar to him, but he condemned hisphilosophy with pitiless severity, and opposed with keen wit andsharp dialectics his reasons for denying the immortality of the soul, inveighing especially against the phrase and idea "philosophy ofreligion" as an absurdity which genuine philosophy ought not to permitbecause it dealt only with thought, while religion concerned faith, whose seat is not in the head, the sacred fount of all philosophy, butthe heart, the warm abode of religion and faith. Then he advised meto read Bacon, study Kant, Plato, and the other ancientphilosophers--Lotze, too, if I desired--and when I had them all byheart, take up the lesser lights, and even then be in no hurry to readFeuerbach and his wild theology. 

I met and conversed with him again whenever I could, and he availedhimself of the confidence he inspired to arouse my enthusiasm for thestudy of jurisprudence. So I am indebted to Pernice for many benefits. In one respect only my reverence for him entailed a certain peril. 

He knew what I was doing, but instead of warning me of the dangerwhich threatened me from toiling at night after such exciting days, heapproved my course and described episodes of his own periods of study. 

One of the three essays for which he received prizes had been writtento compel his father to retract the "stupid fellow" with which he hadinsulted him. At that time he had sat over his books day and night forweeks, and, thank Heaven, did not suffer from it. 

His colossal frame really did seem immovable, and I deemed mine, thoughmuch slighter, capable of nearly equal endurance. It required severeexertions to weary me, and my mind possessed the capacity to devoteitself to strenuous labour directly after the gayest amusements, andthere was no lack of such "pastimes" either in Gottingen or just beyondits limits. 

Among the latter was an excursion to Cassel which was associated with anadventure whose singular course impressed it firmly on my memory. 

When we arrived, chilled by the railway journey, an acquaintance of thefriend who accompanied me ordered rum and water for us, and we laughedand jested with the landlord's pretty daughters, who brought it to us. 

As it had been snowing heavily and the sleighing was excellent, wedetermined to return directly after dinner, and drive as far as Munden. Of course the merry girls would be welcome companions, and we did notfind it very difficult to persuade them to go part of the way with us. 

So we hired two sleighs to convey us to a village distant about anhour's ride, from which we were to send them back in one, while myfriend and I pursued our journey in the other. 

After a lively dinner with our friends they joined us. 

The snow-storm, which had ceased for several hours, began again, growingmore and more violent as we drove on. I never saw such masses of thelargest flakes, and just outside the village where the girls were toturn back the horses could barely force their way through the white masswhich transformed the whole landscape into a single snowy coverlet. 

The clouds seemed inexhaustible, and when the time for departure camethe driver declared that it would be impossible to go back to Cassel. 

The girls, who, exhilarated by the swift movement through the cold, bracing air, had entered into our merriment, grew more and more anxious. Our well-meant efforts to comfort them were rejected; they were angrywith us for placing them in such an unpleasant position. 

The lamps were lighted when I thought of taking the landlady into ourconfidence and asking her to care for the poor frightened children. Shewas a kind, sensible woman, and though she at first exclaimed over theirheedlessness, she addressed them with maternal tenderness and showedthem to the room they were to occupy. 

They came down again at supper reassured, and we ate the rustic mealtogether very merrily. One of them wrote a letter to her father, sayingthat they had been detained by the snow at the house of an acquaintance, and a messenger set off with it at sunrise, but we were told that theroad would not be passable before noon. 

Yet, gay as our companions were at breakfast, the thought ofentertaining them longer seemed irksome, and as the church bells wereringing some one proposed that we should go. 

A path had been shovelled, and we were soon seated in the countrychurch. The pastor, a fine-looking man of middle age, entered, andthough I no longer remember his text, I recollect perfectly that hespoke of the temptations which threaten to lure us from the right pathsand the means of resisting them. 

One of the most effectual, he said, was the remembrance of those to whomwe owe love and respect. I thought of my mother and blind old Langethal, of Tzschirner, and of Herbert Pernice, and, dissatisfied with myself, resolved to do in the future not only what was seemly, but what the dutyof entering more deeply into the science which I had chosen required. 

The childish faith which Feuerbach's teachings had threatened to destroyseemed to gaze loyally at me with my mother's eyes. I felt that Pernicewas right--it was the warm heart, not the cool head, which should dealwith these matters, and I left the church, which I had entered merely toshorten an hour, feeling as if released from a burden. 

Our return home was pleasant, and I began to attend the law lectures atGottingen with tolerable regularity. 

I was as full of life, and, when occasion offered, as reckless, as ever, though a strange symptom began to make itself unpleasantly felt. Itappeared only after severe exertion in walking, fencing, or dancing, andconsisted of a peculiar, tender feeling in the soles of my feet, which Iattributed to some fault of the shoemaker, and troubled myself the lessabout it because it vanished soon after I came in. 

But the family of Professor Baum, the famous surgeon, where I was veryintimate, had thought ever since my return from the Christmas vacationthat I did not look well. 

With Marianne, the second daughter of this hospitable household, abeautiful girl of remarkably brilliant mind, I had formed so intimate, almost fraternal, a friendship, that both she and her warm-heartedmother called me "Cousin Schorge. "

Frau Dirichlet, the wife of the great mathematician, the sister of FelixMendelssohn Bartholdy, in whose social and musical home I spent hours ofpleasure which will never be forgotten, also expressed her anxiety aboutmy loss of flesh. When a girl she had often met my mother, and at myfirst visit she won my affection by her eager praise of that belovedwoman's charms. 

As the whole family were extremely musical they could afford themselvesand their friends a great deal of enjoyment. I have never heard Joachimplay so entrancingly as to her accompaniment. At a performance in herown house, where the choruses from Cherubini's Water-Carrier were given, she herself had rehearsed the music with those who were to take part, and to hear her play on the piano was a treat. 

This lady, a remarkable woman in every respect, who gave me many tokensof maternal affection, insisted on the right to warn me. She did this byreminding me, with delicate feminine tact, of my mother when she heardof a wager which I now remember with grave disapproval. This was toempty an immense number of bottles of the heavy Wurzburg Stein wine andyet remain perfectly sober. My opponent, who belonged to the BrunswickCorps, lost, but as soon after I was attacked by illness, though not inconsequence of this folly, which had occurred about a fortnight before, he could not give the breakfast which I had won. But he fulfilled hisobligation; for when, several lustra later, I visited his native city ofHamburg as a Leipsic professor, to deliver an address before the Societyof Art and Science, he arranged a splendid banquet, at which I metseveral old Gottingen friends. 

The term was nearly over when an entertainment was given to the corpsby one of its aristocratic members. It was a very gay affair. A band ofmusic played, and we students danced with one another. I was one of thelast to depart, long after midnight, and on looking for my overcoat Icould not find it. One of the guests had mistaken it for his, andthe young gentleman's servant had carried his own home. This wasunfortunate, for mine contained my door-key. 

Heated by dancing, in a dress-coat, with a thin white necktie, I wentout into the night air. It was cold, and, violently as I pounded on thedoor of the Schonhutte, no one opened it. At last I thought of poundingon the gutter-spout, which I did till I roused the landlord. But I hadbeen at least fifteen minutes in the street, and was fairly numbed. Thelandlord was obliged to open the room and light my lamp, because I couldnot use my fingers. 

If I had been intoxicated, which I do not believe, the cold would havesobered me, for what happened is as distinct as if it had occurredyesterday. 

I undressed, went to bed, and when I was roused by a strange burningsensation in my throat I felt so weak that I could scarcely lift myarm. There was a peculiar taste of blood in my mouth, and as I movedI touched something moist. But my exhaustion was so great that I fellasleep again, and the dream which followed was so delightful that I didnot forget it. Perhaps the distinctness of my recollection is due to mymaking it the subject of a poem, which I still possess. It seemed asif I were lying in an endless field of poppies, with the notes of musicechoing around me. Never did I have a more blissful vision. 

The awakening was all the more terrible. Only a few hours could havepassed since I went to rest. Dawn was just appearing, and I rang for theold maid-servant who waited on me. An hour later Geheimrath Baum stoodbeside my bed. 

The heavy tax made upon my physical powers by exposure to the night airhad caused a severe haemorrhage. The excellent physician who took chargeof my case said positively that my lungs were sound, and the attack wasdue to the bursting of a blood-vessel. I was to avoid sitting uprightin bed, to receive no visitors, and have ice applied. I believed myselfdestined to an early death, but the departure from life caused me nofear; nay, I felt so weary that I desired nothing but eternal sleep. Only I wanted to see my mother again. 

Then let my end come!

I was in the mood to write, and either the day after the haemorrhage orthe next one I composed the following verses:

 A field of poppies swaying to and fro, Their blossoms scarlet as fresh blood, I see, While o'er me, radiant in the noontide glow, The sky, blue as corn-flowers, arches free. 

 Low music echoes through the breezes warm; The violet lends the poppy her sweet breath; The song of nightingales is heard, a swarm Of butterflies flit hov'ring o'er the heath. 

 While thus I lie, wrapped in a morning dream, Half waking, half asleep, 'mid poppies red, A fresh breeze cools my burning cheeks; a gleam Of light shines in the East. Hath the night sped?

 Then upward from an opening bud hath flown A poppy leaf toward the azure sky, But close beside it, from a flower full-blown, The scattered petals on the brown earth lie. 

 The leaflet flutters, a fair sight to view, By the fresh matin breezes heavenward borne, The faded poppy falls, the fields anew To fertilize, which grateful thanks return. 

 Starting from slumber round my room I gaze My hand of my own life-blood bears the stain; I am the poppy-leaf, with the first rays Of morning snatched away from earth's domain. 

 Not mine the fate the world's dark ways to wend, And perish, wearied, at the goal of life; Still glad and blooming, I leave every friend; The game is lost--but with what joys 'twas rife!

I cannot express how these verses relieved my heart; and when on thethird day I again felt comparatively well I tried to believe that Ishould soon recover, enjoy the pleasures of corps life, though with somecaution, and devote myself seriously to the study of jurisprudence underPernice's direction. 

The physician gave his permission for a speedy return, but his assurancethat there was no immediate danger if I was careful did not afford meunmixed pleasure. For my mother's sake and my own I desired to live, butthe rules he prescribed before my departure were so contradictory tomy nature that they seemed unbearably cruel. They restricted everymovement. He feared the haemorrhage far less than the tender feeling inthe soles of my feet and other small symptoms of the commencement of achronic disease. 

Middendorf had taught us to recognize God's guidance in Nature and ourown lives, and how often I succeeded in doing so! But when I examinedmyself and my condition closely it seemed as if what had befallen me wasthe result of a malicious or blind chance. 

Never before or since have I felt so crushed and destitute of supportas during those days, and in this mood I left the city where the springdays of life had bloomed so richly for me, and returned home to mymother. She had learned what had occurred, but the physician had assuredher that with my vigorous constitution I should regain my health if Ifollowed his directions. 

CHAPTER XXIII. THE HARDEST TIME IN THE SCHOOL OF LIFE. 

The period which now followed was the most terrible of my whole life. Even the faithful love that surrounded me could do little to relieve it. 

Medicines did not avail, and I had not yet found the arcanum whichafterwards so greatly benefitted my suffering soul. 

The props which my mother and Middendorf had bestowed upon me when a boyhad fallen; and the feeling of convalescence, which gives the invalid'slife a sense of bliss the healthy person rarely knows, could not aid me, for the disease increased with wonderful speed. 

When autumn came I was so much worse that Geheimrath von Ammon, alearned and experienced physician, recalled his advice that my motherand I should spend the winter in the south. The journey would have beenfatal. The correctness of his judgment was proved by the short trip toBerlin which I took with my mother, aided by my brother Martin, who wasthen a physician studying with the famous clinical doctor Schonlein. Itwas attended with cruel suffering and the most injurious results, butit was necessary for me to return to my comfortable winter quarters. Ourold friend and family physician, who had come to Hosterwitz in Septemberto visit me, wished to have me near him, and in those days there wasprobably no one who deserved more confidence; for Heinrich MoritzRomberg was considered the most distinguished pathologist in nervousdiseases in Germany, and his works on his own specialty are stillvalued. 

In what a condition I entered the home which I had left so strong andfull of youthful vigour! And Berlin did not receive me kindly; for thefirst months I spent there brought days of suffering with fever in theafternoon, and nights whose condition was no less torturing than pain. 

But our physician had been present at my birth, he was my godfather, andas kind as if I were his son. He did everything in his power to relieveme, but the remedies he used were not much easier to bear than many atorturing disease. And hardest of all, I was ordered to keep perfectlystill in bed. What a prospect! But when I had once resolved to followthe doctor's advice, I controlled with the utmost care every movementof my body. I, who had so often wished to fly, lay like my own corpse. Idid not move, for I did not want to die, and intended to use every meansin my power to defer the end. Death, which after the haemorrhage hadappeared as the beautiful winged boy who is so easily mistaken for thegod of love--Death, who had incited me to write saucy, defiant versesabout him, now confronted me as a hollow-eyed, hideous skeleton. 

In the guise of the most appalling figure among the apocalyptic ridersof Cornelius, who had used me when a child for the model of a laughingangel, he seemed to be stretching his hand toward me from his emaciatedsteed. The poppy leaf was not to flutter toward the sky, but to witherin the dust. 

Once, several weeks after our return home, I saw the eyes of my mother, who rarely wept, reddened with tears after a conversation with Dr. Romberg. When I asked my friend and physician if he would advise me tomake my will, he said that it could do no harm. 

Soon after Hans Geppert, who meanwhile had become a notary, arrived withtwo witnesses, odd-looking fellows who belonged to the working class, and I made my will in due form. The certainty that when I was no morewhat I possessed would be divided as I wished was a ray of light in thisgloomy time. 

No one knows the solemnity of Death save the person whom his cold handhas touched, and I felt it for weeks upon my heart. 

What days and nights these were!

Yet in the presence of the open grave from which I shrank something tookplace which deeply moved my whole nature, gave it a new direction, ledme to self-examination, and thence to a knowledge of my own characterwhich revealed many surprising and unpleasing things. But I also feltthat it was not yet too late to bring the good and evil traits, partlyhereditary, partly acquired, into harmony with one another and renderthem of use to the same higher objects. 

Yes, if I were permitted time to do so!

I had learned how quickly and unexpectedly the hour strikes which putsan end to all struggle towards a goal. 

Besides, I now knew what would protect me from a relapse into the oldcareless waste of strength, what could aid me to do my utmost, for themother's heart had again found the son's, fully and completely. 

I had been forced to become as helpless as a child in order again to laymy head upon her breast and belong to her as completely as during thefirst years of life. During the long nights when fever robbed me ofsleep she sat beside my bed, holding my hands in hers. 

At last one came which contained hours of the most intense suffering, and in its course she asked, "Can you still pray?" The answer, whichcame from my inmost heart, was, "When you are with me, and with you, certainly. "

We remained silent a long time, and whenever impatience, suffering, and faintness threatened to overpower me, I found, like Antaeus when hetouched the earth that had given him birth, new strength in my mother'sheart. 

My old life seemed henceforward to lie far behind me. 

I did not take up Feuerbach's writings again; his way could never againhave been mine. In my suffering it had become evident from what an Edenhe turns away and into what a wilderness he leads. But I still valuethis thinker as an honest, virile, and brilliantly gifted seeker aftertruth. 

I also laid aside the other philosophers whose works I had beenstudying. 

I never resumed Lotze, though later, with two other students, I attendedTrendelenburg's difficult course, and tried to comprehend Kant's"critiques. "

I first became familiar with Schopenhauer in Jena. 

On the other hand, I again devoted many leisure hours to Egyptologicalworks. 

I felt that these studies suited my powers and would satisfy me. Everything which had formerly withheld me from the pursuits of learningnow seemed worthless. It was as if I stood in a new relation to allthings. Even the one to my mother had undergone a transformation. Irealized for the first time what I possessed in her, how wrong I hadbeen, and what I owed to her. One day during this period I remembered myPoem of the World, and instantly had the box brought in which I kept itamong German favours, little pink notes, and similar trophies. 

For the first time I perceived, in examining the fruits of the labour ofso many days and nights, the vast disproportion between the magnitude ofthe subject and my untrained powers. One passage seemed faulty, anotherso overstrained and inadequate, that I flung it angrily back among therest. At the same time I thought that the verses I had addressed tovarious beauties and the answers which I had received ought not to beseen by other eyes. I was alone with the servant, a bright fire wasblazing in the stove, and, obedient to a hasty impulse, I told him tothrow the whole contents of the box into the fire. 

When the last fragment was consumed to ashes I uttered a sigh of relief. 

Unfortunately, the flames also destroyed the greater part of my youthfulpoems. Even the completed acts of my tragedy had been overtaken bydestruction, like the heroes of Panthea and Abradatus. 

If I had formerly obeyed the physician's order to lie motionless, Ifollowed it after the first signs of convalescence so rigidly that eventhe experienced Dr. Romberg admitted that he had not given me creditfor so much self-control. Toward the end of the winter my formercheerfulness returned, and with it I also learned to use the arcanumI have formerly mentioned, which makes even the most bitter thingsenjoyable and lends them a taste of sweetness. I might term it "thepractice of gratitude. " Without intending it, I acquired the art ofthankfulness by training my eyes to perceive the smallest trifle whichgave cause for it. And this recognition of even the least favour ofFortune filled the rude wintry days with so much sunshine, that whenchildren of my own were given me my first effort was to train them togratitude, and especially to an appreciation of trifles. 

The motto 'Carpe diem, ' which I had found in my father's Horace and hadengraved upon my seal ring, unexpectedly gained a new significance byno longer translating it "enjoy, " but "use the day, " till the time camewhen the two meanings seemed identical. 

CHAPTER XXIV. THE APPRENTICESHIP. 

Firmly as I had resolved to follow the counsel of Horace, and dear asearnest labour was becoming, I still lacked method, a fixed goal towardswhich to move with firm tread in the seclusion to which my sufferingsstill condemned me. 

I had relinquished the study of the law. It seemed more than doubtfulwhether my health would ever permit me to devote myself to a practicalprofession or an academic career, and my interest in jurisprudence wastoo slight to have it allure me to make it the subject of theoreticalstudies. 

Egyptology, on the contrary, not only attracted me but permitted me todevote my whole strength to it so far as my health would allow. True, Champollion, the founder of this science, termed it "a beautifuldowerless maiden, " but I could venture to woo her, and felt gratefulthat, in choosing my profession, I could follow my inclination withoutbeing forced to consider pecuniary advantages. 

The province of labour was found, but with each step forward theconviction of my utter lack of preparation for the new science grewclearer. 

Just then the kind heart of Wilhelm Grimm's wife brought her to me withsome delicious fruit syrup made by her own hands. When I told her whatI was doing and expressed a wish to have a guide in my science, shepromised to tell "the men" at home, and within a few days after hissister-in-law's visit Jacob was sitting with me. 

He inquired with friendly interest how my attention had been calledto Egyptology, what progress I had made, and what other sciences I wasstudying. 

After my reply he shook his venerable head with its long grey locks, andsaid, smiling:

"You have been putting the cart before the horse. But that's the waywith young specialists. They want to become masters in the workshops oftheir sciences as a shoemaker learns to fashion boots. Other things areof small importance to them; and yet the special discipline first gainsvalue in connection with the rest or the wider province of the alliedsciences. Your deciphering of hieroglyphics can only make you adragoman, and you must become a scholar in the higher sense, a real andthorough one. The first step is to lay the linguistic foundation. "

This was said with the engaging yet impressively earnest franknesscharacteristic of him. He himself had never investigated Egyptianmatters closely, and therefore did not seek to direct my courseminutely, but advised me, in general, never to forget that the specialscience was nothing save a single chord, which could only produce itsfull melody with those that belonged to the same lute. 

Lepsius had a broader view than most of those engaged in so narrow afield of study. He would speak of me to him. 

The next Thursday Lepsius called on me. I know this because that day wasreserved for his subsequent visits. 

After learning what progress I had made by my own industry, he told mewhat to do next, and lastly promised to come again. 

He had inquired about my previous education, and urged me to studyphilology, archaeology, and at least one Semitic language. Later hevoluntarily informed me how much he, who had pursued philological, archaeological, Sanscrit, and Germanistic studies, had been impededin his youth by having neglected the Semitic languages, which are morenearly allied to the Egyptian. It would be necessary also for me tounderstand English and Italian, since many things which the Egyptologistought to know were published in these languages, as well as in French. Lastly he advised me to obtain some insight into Sanscrit, which was thepoint of departure for all linguistic studies. 

His requirements raised mountain after mountain in my path, but thethought of being compelled to scale these heights not only did not repelme, but seemed extremely attractive. I felt as if my strength increasedwith the magnitude and multiplicity of the tasks imposed, and, fullof joyous excitement, I told Lepsius that I was ready to fulfil hisrequirements in every detail. 

We now discussed in what sequence and manner I should go to work, and tothis day I admire the composure, penetration, and lucidity with which hesketched a plan of study that covered years. 

I have reason to be grateful to this great scholar for the introductionto my special science, but still more for the wisdom with which hepointed out the direction of my studies. Like Jacob Grimm, he compelledme, as an Egyptologist, to remain in connection with the kindreddepartments. 

Later my own experience was to teach me the correctness of his assertionthat it would be a mistake to commence by studying so restricted ascience as Egyptology. 

My pupils can bear witness that during my long period of teaching Ialways strove to urge students who intended to devote themselves toEgyptology first to strengthen the foundations, without which thespecial structure lacks support. 

Lepsius's plan of instruction provided that I should follow theseprinciples from the beginning. The task I had to perform was a greatand difficult one. How infinitely easier it was for those whom I had theprivilege of introducing to this science! The lecture-rooms of famousteachers stood open to them, while my physical condition kept me forweeks from the university; and how scanty were the aids to which thestudent could turn! Yet the zeal--nay, the enthusiasm--with whichI devoted myself to the study was so great that it conquered everydifficulty. 

 [I had no dictionary and no grammar for the hieroglyphic language save Champollion's. No Stern had treated Coptic in a really scientific manner. I was obliged to learn it according to Tuki, Peyron, Tattam, and Steinthal-Schwarze. For the hieratic there was no aid save my own industry and the lists I had myself compiled from the scanty texts then at the disposal of the student. Lepsius had never devoted much time to them. Brugsch's demotic grammar had appeared, but its use was rendered very difficult by the lack of conformity between the type and the actual signs. ]

When I recall the amount of knowledge I mastered in a few terms it seemsincredible; yet my labour was interrupted every summer by a sojourn atthe springs--once three months, and never for a less period than sixweeks. True, I was never wholly idle while using the waters, but, onthe other hand, I was obliged to consider the danger that in winterconstantly threatened my health. All night-work was strictly forbiddenand, if I sat too long over my books by day, my mother reminded me of mypromise to the doctor, and I was obliged to stop. 

During the first years I worked almost exclusively at home, for I waspermitted to go out only in very pleasant weather. 

Dr. Romberg had wisely considered my reluctance to interrupt my studiesby a residence in the south, because he deemed life in a well-orderedhousehold more beneficial to sufferers from spinal diseases than awarmer climate, when leaving home, as in my case, threatened to disturbthe patient's peace of mind. 

For three winters I had been denied visiting the university, the museum, and the libraries. On the fourth I was permitted to begin, and now, with mature judgment and thorough previous preparation, I attended theacademic lectures, and profited by the treasures of knowledge and richcollections of the capital. 

After my return from Wildbad Lepsius continued his Thursday visits, andduring the succeeding winters still remained my guide, even when I hadalso placed myself, in the department of the ancient Egyptian languages, under the instruction of Heinrich Brugsch. 

At school, of course, I had not thought of studying Hebrew. Now I tookprivate lessons in that language, to which I devoted several hoursdaily. I had learned to read Sanscrit and to translate easy passages inthe chrestomathy, and devoted myself with special zeal to the study ofthe Latin grammar and prosody. Professor Julius Geppert, the brother ofour most intimate family friend, was my teacher for four terms. 

The syntax of the classic languages, which had been my weak point asa school-boy, now aroused the deepest interest, and I was grateful toLepsius for having so earnestly insisted upon my pursuing philology. Isoon felt the warmest appreciation of the Roman comedies, which servedas the foundation of these studies. What sound wit, what keenness ofobservation, what a happy gift of invention, the old comic writers hadat their disposal! I took them up again a few years ago, after readingwith genuine pleasure in Otto Ribbeck's masterpiece, The History ofRoman Poetry, the portions devoted to Plautus and Terence. 

The types of character found in these comedies strengthened myconviction that the motives of human actions and the mental andemotional peculiarities of civilized men in every age always have beenand always will be the same. 

With what pleasure, when again permitted to go out in the evening, I witnessed the performances of Plautus's pieces given by ProfessorGeppert's pupils!

The refreshed and enlarged knowledge of school Latin was of greatservice in writing, and afterwards discussing, a Latin dissertation. Idevoted perhaps a still larger share of my time to Greek, and, as thefruit of these studies, still possess many translations from Anacreon, Sappho, and numerous fragments from the Bergk collection of Greeklyrics, but, with the exception of those introduced into my novels, nonehave been printed. 

During my leisure hours translating afforded me special pleasure. Anexact rendering of difficult English authors soon made Shakespeare'slanguage in both prose and poetry as intelligible as German or French. 

After mastering the rules of grammar, I needed no teacher except mymother. When I had conquered the first difficulties I took up Tennyson'sIdyls of the King, and at last succeeded in translating two of thesebeautiful poems in the metre of the original. 

My success with Enid I think was very tolerable. The manuscript stilllies in my desk unpublished. 

As I was now engaged in studying the languages I easily learned to readItalian, Spanish, and Dutch books. 

In view of this experience, which is not wholly personal, I havewondered whether the instruction of boys might not be shortened togive them more outdoor exercise. In how brief a time the pupils, as menstudying for their own benefit, not the teacher's, would acquire manythings! Besides the languages, I studied, at first exclusively underLepsius's thoroughly admirable instruction, ancient history andarcheology. 

Later I owed most to Gerhard, Droysen, Friederichs, and August Bockh. 

A kind fate afterwards brought me into personal relations with thelatter, whose lectures on the Athenian financial system were the finestand the most instructive I have ever heard. What clearness, whatdepth of learning, what a subtle sense of humour this splendid old manpossessed! I attended his lectures in 1863, and how exquisite were theallusions to the by no means satisfactory political conditions of thetimes with which he spiced them. I also became sincerely attached toFriederichs, and it made me happy to be able to requite him in somesmall degree in Egypt for the kindness and unselfishness he had shown mein Berlin. 

Bopp's lectures, where I tried to increase my meagre knowledge ofSanscrit, I attended, unfortunately, only a few hours. 

The lectures of the African traveller Heinrich Earth supplied richsources of material, but whoever expected to hear bewitching narrativesfrom him would have been disappointed. Even in more intimate intercoursehe rarely warmed up sufficiently to let others share the rich treasureof his knowledge and experience. It seemed as if, during his lonely lifein Africa, he had lost the necessity of exchanging thoughts with hisfellow-men. During this late period Heinrich Brugsch developed in thelinguistic department of Egyptology what I had gained from Lepsius andby my own industry, and I gladly term myself his pupil. 

I have cause to be grateful for the fresh and helpful way in which thisgreat and tireless investigator gave me a private lecture; but Lepsiushad opened the door of our science, and though he could carry me onlyto a certain stage in the grammar of the ancient Egyptians, in otherdepartments I owe him more than any other of my intellectual guides. I am most indebted to him for the direction to use historical andarchaeological authorities critically, and his correction of the taskshe set me; but our conversations on archaeological subjects have alsobeen of the greatest interest. 

After his death I tried to return in some small degree what hisunselfish kindness had bestowed by accepting the invitation to becomehis biographer. In "Richard Lepsius, " I describe reverently but withoutdeviating one step from the truth, this wonderful scholar, who was afaithful and always affectionate friend. 

I can scarcely believe it possible that the dignified man, with thegrave, stern, clear-cut, scholarly face and snow-white hair, was butforty-five years old when he began to direct my studies; for, spite ofhis erect bearing and alert, movements, he seemed to me at that time avenerable old man. There was something in the aristocratic reserve ofhis nature and the cool, penetrating sharpness of his criticism, which is usually found only in men of more mature years. I should havesupposed him incapable of any heedless word, any warm emotion, untilI afterwards met him under his own roof and enjoyed the warm-heartedcheerfulness of the father of the family and the graciousness of thehost. 

It certainly was not the cool, calculating reason, but the heart, whichhad urged him to devote so many hours of his precious time to the youngfollower of his science. 

Heinrich Brugsch, my second teacher, was far superior to Lepsius asa decipherer and investigator of the various stages of the ancientEgyptian languages. Two natures more totally unlike can scarcely beimagined. 

Brugsch was a man of impulse, who maintained his cheerfulness even whenlife showed him its serious side. Then, as now, he devoted himself withtireless energy to hard work. In this respect he resembled Lepsius, withwhom he had other traits in common-first, a keen sense of order in thecollection and arrangement of the abundant store of scientific materialat his disposal; and, secondly, the circumstance that Alexander vonHumboldt had smoothed the beginning of the career of investigation forboth. The attention of this great scholar and influential man had beenattracted by Brugsch's first Egyptological works, which he had commencedbefore he left school, and his keen eye recognized their value aswell as the genius of their author. As soon as he began to win renownHumboldt extended his powerful protection to him, and induced hisfriend, the king, to afford him means for continuing his education inParis and for a journey to Europe. 

Though it was Bunsen who first induced Lepsius to devote himself toEgyptology, that he might systematize the science and prune with theknife of philological and historical criticism the shoots which grewso wildly after Champollion's death, Humboldt had opened the paths tolearning which in Paris were closed to the foreigner. 

Finally, it was the great naturalist who had lent the aid of hispowerful influence with Frederick William IV to the enterprise supportedby Bunsen of an expedition to Egypt under the direction of Lepsius. Butfor the help of the most influential man of his day it would have beendifficult--nay, perhaps impossible--to obtain for themselves andGerman investigation the position which, thanks to their labour, it nowoccupies. 

I had the privilege of meeting Alexander von Humboldt at a small dinnerparty, and his image is vividly imprinted on my memory. He was at thattime far beyond the span of life usually allotted to man, and whatI heard him say was hardly worth retaining, for it related to thepleasures of the table, ladies' toilettes, court gossip, etc. When heafterwards gave me his hand I noticed the numerous blue veins whichcovered it like a network. It was not until later that I learned howmany important enterprises that delicate hand had aided. 

Heinrich Brugsch is still pursuing with fresh creative power theprofession of Egyptological research. The noble, simple-hearted womanwho was so proud of her son's increasing renown, his mother, died longago. She modestly admired his greatness, yet his shrewdness, capacityfor work, and happy nature were a heritage from her. 

Heinrich Brugsch's instruction extended beyond the actual period ofteaching. 

With the commencement of convalescence and the purposeful industry whichthen began, a time of happiness dawned for me. The mental calmness feltby every one who, secluded from the tumult of the world, as I was atthat time, devotes himself to the faithful fulfilment of duty, renderedit comparatively easy for me to accommodate myself patiently to acondition which a short time before would have seemed insupportable. 

True, I was forced to dispense with the companionship of gay associatesof my own age. At first many members of my old corps, who were studyingin Berlin, sought me, but gradually their places were filled by otherfriends. 

The dearest of these was Dr. Adolf Baeyer, son of the General. He isnow one of the leaders in his chosen science, chemistry, and is JustusLiebig's successor in the Munich University. 

My second friend was a young Pole who devoted himself eagerly toEgyptology, and whom Lepsius had introduced as a professional comrade. He called me Georg and I him Mieczy (his name was Mieczyslaw). 

So, during those hard winters, I did not lack friendship. But they alsowove into my life something else which lends their memory a melancholycharm. 

The second daughter of my mother's Belgian niece, who had married inBerlin the architect Fritz Hitzig, afterwards President of the Academyof Arts, was named Eugenie and nicknamed "Nenny. "

If ever any woman fulfilled the demands of the fairy tale, "Whiteas snow and black as ebony, " it was she. Only the "red as blood" waslacking, for usually but a faint roseate hue tinged her cheeks. Herlarge blue eyes had an innocent, dreamy, half-melancholy expression, which I was not the only person who found unspeakably charming. Afterwards it seemed to me, in recalling her look, that she beheld thefair boy Death, whose lowered torch she was so soon to follow. 

About the time that I returned to Berlin seriously ill she had just leftboarding-school, and it is difficult to describe the impression she madewhen I saw her for the first time; yet I found in the opening rose allthat had lent the bud so great a charm. 

I am not writing a romance, and shall not permit the heart to beautifyor transfigure the image memory retains, yet I can assert thatNenny lacked nothing which art and poesy attribute to the women whoallegorically personate the magic of Nature or the fairest emotions andideals of the human soul. In this guise poet, sculptor, or artist mighthave represented Imagination, the Fairy Tale, Lyric Poetry, the Dream, or Compassion. 

The wealth of raven hair, the delicate lines of the profile, the scarletlips, the pearly teeth, the large, long-lashed blue eyes, whose colourformed a startling contrast to the dark hair, the slender little handsand dainty feet, united to form a beauty whose equal Nature rarelyproduces. And this fair body contained a tender, loving, pure, childlikeheart, which longed for higher gifts than human life can bestow. 

Thus she appeared before me like an apparition from a world openedonly to the poet. She came often, for she loved my mother, and rarelyapproached my couch without a flower, a picture which pleased her, or abook containing a poem which she valued. 

When she entered I felt as if happiness came with her. Doubtless my eyesbetrayed this distinctly enough, though I forced my lips to silence; forwhat love had she, before whom life was opening like a path througha blooming garden, to bestow on the invalid cousin who was probablydestined to an early death, and certainly to many a year of illness? Atour first meeting I felt that I loved her, but for that very reason Idesired to conceal it. 

I had grown modest. It was enough for me to gaze at her, hear her dearvoice, and sometimes--she was my cousin--clasp her little hand. 

Science was now the object of my devotion. My intellect, passion, andfire were all hers. A kind fortune seemed to send me Nenny in order tobestow a gift also upon the heart, the soul, the sense of beauty. 

This state of affairs could not last; for no duty commanded her to sharethe conflict raging within me, and a day came when I learned from herown lips that she loved me, that her heart had been mine when she wasa little school-girl, that during my illness she had never wearied ofpraying for me, and had wept all night long when the physician told hermother of the danger in which I stood. 

This confession sounded like angel voices. It made me infinitely happy, yet I had strength to entreat Nenny to treasure this blissful hour withme as the fairest jewel of our lives, and then help me to fulfil theduty of parting from her. 

But she took a different view of the future. It was enough for her toknow that my heart was hers. If I died young, she would follow me. 

And now the devout child, who firmly believed in a meeting after deathface to face, permitted me a glimpse of the wondrous world in which shehoped to have her portion after the end here. 

I listened in astonishment, with sincere emotion. This was the faithwhich moved mountains, which brings heaven itself to earth. 

Afterwards I again beheld the eyes with which, gazing into vacancy, shetried to conjure up before my soul these visions of hope from the realmof her fairest dreams--they were those of Raphael's Saint Cecilia inBologna and Munich. I also saw them long after Nenny's death in one ofMurillo's Madonnas in Seville, and even now they rise distinctly beforemy memory. 

To disturb this childish faith or check the imagination winged by thisdevout enthusiasm would have seemed to me actually criminal. And Iwas young. Even the suffering I had endured had neither silenced theyearning voice of my heart nor cooled the warmth of my blood. I, whohad believed that the garden of love was forever closed against me, wasbeloved by the most beautiful girl, who was even dearer to me than life, and with new hope, which Nenny's faith in God's goodness bedewed withwarm spring rain, I enjoyed this happiness. 

Yet conscience could not be silenced. The warning voice of my mother, towhom I had opened my heart, sharpened the admonitions of mine; and whenWildbad brought me only relief, by no means complete recovery, I leftthe decision to the physician. It was strongly adverse. Under the mostfavourable circumstances years must pass ere I should be justified inbinding any woman's fate to mine. 

So this beginning of a beautiful and serious love story became a swiftlypassing dream. Its course had been happy, but the end dealt my hearta blow which healed very slowly. It opened afresh when in her parents'house, where during my convalescence I was a frequent guest, I myselfadvised her to marry a young land-owner, who eagerly wooed her. Shebecame his wife, but only a year later entered that other world whichshe had regarded as her true home even while here. Her beloved imageoccupies the most sacred place in the shrine of my memory. 

I denied myself the pleasure of introducing her character in one of mynovels, for I felt that if I should succeed in limning it faithfully themodern reader would be justified in considering her an impossible figurefor our days. She would perhaps have suited a fairy tale; and when Icreated Bianca in The Elixir I gave her Nenny's form. The gratitudewhich I owe her will accompany me to my life's end, for it was she whobrought to my sick-room the blue sky, sunlight, and the thousand giftsof a blooming Garden of Eden. 

CHAPTER XXV. THE SUMMERS OF MY CONVALESCENCE. 

While I spent the winters in my mother's house in industrious work andpleasant social life, the summers took me out of the city into theopen air. I always went first with my faithful nurse and companion toWildbad; the remainder of the warm season I spent on the Elbe, sometimeswith my mother, sometimes with my aunt. 

I used the Wildbad springs in all seventeen times. For two summers, aided by a servant, I descended from a wheel-chair into the warm water;in the third I could dispense with assistance; and from the fourthfor several lustra I moved unchecked with a steady step. After a longinterval, owing to a severe relapse of the apparently conquered disease, I returned to them. 

The Wurtemberg Wildbad is one of the oldest cures in Germany. The legendof the Count Mirtemberg, who discovered its healing powers by seeinga wild boar go down to the warm spring to wash its wound, has beenrendered familiar by Uhland to every German. Ulrich von Hutten also usedit. It rises in a Black Forest valley inclosed by stately mountains, alittle stream, the Enz, crystal clear, and abounding in trout. 

The small town on both banks of the river expands, ere the Enz losesitself in the leafage, into the Kurplatz, where one stately building oflightred sandstone adjoins another. The little white church stands atthe left. But the foil, the background for everything, is the beautifulfoliage, which is as beneficial to the eyes as are the springs to thesuffering body. This fountain of health has special qualities. TheSwabian says, "just right, like Wildbad. " It gushes just the rightdegree of heat for the bath from the gravelly sand. After bathingearly in the morning I rested an hour, and when I rose obeyed any otherdirections of the physician in charge of the watering-place. 

The remainder of the day, if the weather was pleasant, I spent out ofdoors, usually in the grounds under the leafy trees and groups of shrubson the shore of the Enz. On the bank of the clear little stream stooda wooden arbour, where the murmur of the waves rippling over the mossygranite blocks invited dreams and meditation. During my whole sojournin Wildbad I always passed several hours a day here. During my periodof instruction I was busied with grammatical studies in ancient Egyptiantext or archaeological works. In after years, instead of Minerva, Isummoned the muse and committed to paper the thoughts and images whichhad been created in my mind at home. I wrote here the greater portion ofAn Egyptian Princess, and afterwards many a chapter of Uarda, Homo Sum, and other novels. 

I was rarely interrupted, for the report had spread that I wished tobe alone while at work; yet even the first year I did not lackacquaintances. 

Even during our first stay at Wildbad, which, with the Hirsauinterruption, lasted more than three months, my mother had formedan intimate friendship with Frau von Burckhardt, in which I too wasincluded. The lady possessed rare tact in harmonizing the very diverseelements which her husband, the physician in charge, brought to her. Every one felt at ease in her house and found congenial society there. So it happened that for a long time the Villa Burckhardt was therendezvous of the most eminent persons who sought the healing influenceof the Wildbad spring. Next to this, it was the Burckhardts whoconstantly drew us back to the Enz. 

Were I to number the persons whom I met here and whose acquaintanceshipI consider a benefit, the list would be a long one. Some I shall mentionlater. The first years we saw most frequently the song-writer Silcher, from Tubingen, Justus von Liebig, the Munich zoologist von Siebold, theBelgian artist Louis Gallait, the author Moritz Hartmann, Gervinus, and, lastly, the wife of the Stuttgart publisher Eduard Hallberger, and thenever-to-be-forgotten Frau Puricelli and her daughter Jenny. 

Silcher, an unusually attractive old man, joined us frequently. No othercomposer's songs found their way so surely to the hearts of the people. Many, as "I know not what it means, " "I must go hence to-morrow, " aresupposed to be folk-songs. It was a real pleasure to hear him sing themin our little circle in his weak old voice. He was then seventy, but hisfreshness and vivacity made him appear younger. The chivalrous courtesyhe showed to all ladies was wonderfully winning. 

Justus Liebig's manners were no less attractive, but in him genuineamiability was united to the elegance of the man of the world who hadlong been one of the most distinguished scholars of his day. He musthave been remarkably handsome in his youth, and though at that time pastfifty, the delicate outlines of his profile were wholly unmarred. 

Conversation with him was always profitable and the ease with which hemade subjects farthest from his own sphere of investigation--chemistryperfectly clear was unique in its way. Unfortunately, I have been deniedany deeper insight into the science which he so greatly advanced, butI still remember how thoroughly I understood him when he explained someresults of agricultural chemistry. He eagerly endeavoured to dissuadethe gentlemen of his acquaintance from smoking after dinner, which hehad found by experiment to be injurious. 

For several weeks we played whist with him every evening, for Liebig, like so many other scholars, regarded card-playing as the bestrecreation after severe tension of the mind. During the pauses and thesupper which interrupted the game, he told us many things of formertimes. Once he even spoke of his youth and the days which determined hisdestiny. The following event seems to me especially worth recording. 

When a young and wholly unknown student he had gone to Paris to bringhis discovery of fulminic acid to the notice of the Academy. On one ofthe famous Tuesdays he had waited vainly for the introduction of hiswork, and at the close of the session he rose sadly to leave the hall, when an elderly academician in whose hand he thought he had seen histreatise addressed a few words to him concerning his discovery in veryfluent French and invited him to dine the following Thursday. Then thestranger suddenly disappeared, and Liebig, with the painful feeling ofbeing considered a very uncivil fellow, was obliged to let the Thursdaypass without accepting the invitation so important to him. But onSaturday some one knocked at the door of his modest little room andintroduced himself as Alexander von Humboldt's valet. He had been toldto spare no trouble in the search, for the absence of his inexperiencedcountryman from the dinner which would have enabled him to make theacquaintance of the leaders of his science in Paris had not only beennoticed by Humboldt, but had filled him with anxiety. When Liebig wentthat very day to his kind patron he was received at first with gayjests, afterwards with the kindest sympathy. 

The great naturalist had read his paper and perceived the writer'sfuture promise. He at once made him acquainted with Gay Lussac, thefamous Parisian chemist, and Liebig was thus placed on the road to thelofty position which he was afterwards to occupy in all the departmentsof science. 

The Munich zoologist von Siebold we first knew intimately years after. Ishall have more to say of him later, and also of the historian Gervinus, who, behind apparently repellant arrogance, concealed the noblest humanbenevolence. 

After the first treatment, which occupied six weeks, the physicianordered an intermission of the baths. I was to leave Wildbad tostrengthen in the pure air of the Black Forest the health I had gained. On the Enz we had been in the midst of society. The new residence was toafford me an opportunity to lead a lonely, quiet life with my mother andmy books, which latter, however, were only to be used in moderation. 

Shortly before our departure we had taken a longer drive with our newfriends Fran Puricelli and her daughter Jenny to the Hirsau cloister. 

The daughter specially attracted me. She was pretty, well educated, and possessed so much independence and keenness of mind that this alonewould have sufficed to render her remarkable. 

Afterwards I often thought simultaneously of her and Nenny, yet theywere totally unlike in character, having nothing in common save theirsteadfast faith and the power of looking with happy confidence beyondthis life into death. 

The devout Protestant had created a religion of her own, in whicheverything that she loved and which she found beautiful and sacred had aplace. 

Jenny's imagination was no less vivid, but she used it merely to beholdin the form most congenial to her nature and sense of beauty what faithcommanded her to accept. For Jenny the Church had already devised andarranged what Nenny's poetic soul created. The Protestant had succeededin blending Father and Son into one in order to pray to love itself. The Catholic, besides the Holy Trinity, had made the Virgin Mother theembodiment of the feeling dearest to her girlish heart and bestowed onher the form of the person whom she loved best on earth, and regarded asthe personification of everything good and beautiful. This was her oldersister Fanny, who had married a few years before a cousin of the samename. 

When she at last appeared I was surprised, for I had never met a womanwho combined with such rare beauty and queenly dignity so much winningamiability. Nothing could be more touching than the manner in which thisadmired, brilliant woman of the world devoted herself to the sick girl. 

This lady was present during our conversations, which often turned uponreligious questions. 

At first I had avoided the subject, but the young girl constantlyreturned to it, and I soon perceived that I must summon all my energiesto hold my ground against her subtle dialectics. Once when I expressedmy scruples to her sister, she answered, smiling: "Don't be uneasy onthat score; Jenny's armour is strong, but she has sharp arrows in herquiver. "

And so indeed it proved. 

She felt so sure of her own convictions that she might investigatewithout peril the views of those who held a different belief, and beheldin me, as it were, the embodiment of this opportunity, so she gave me nopeace until I had explained the meaning of the words pantheism, atheism, materialism, etc. 

At first I was very cautious, but when I perceived that the opinionsof the doubters and deniers merely inspired her with pity, I spoke morefreely. 

Her soul was like a polished plate of metal on which a picture isetched. This, her belief, remained uninjured. Whatever else might bereflected from the mirror-like surface soon vanished, leaving no trace. 

The young girl died shortly after our separation the following year. Shehad grown very dear to my heart. Her beloved image appears to me mostfrequently as she looked in the days when she was suffering, with thick, fair hair falling in silken masses on her white dress, but amid keenphysical pain the love of pleasure natural to youth still lingered. Shewent with me--both in wheel-chairs--to a ball at the Kursaal, andlooked so pretty in an airy, white dress which her mother and sister hadarranged for their darling, that I should have longed to dance with herhad not this pleasure been denied me. 

Hirsau had first been suggested as a resting-place, but it was doubtfulwhether we should find what we needed there. If not, the carriage wasto convey us to beautiful, quiet Herrenalb, between Wildbad andBaden-Baden. 

But we found what we sought, the most suitable house possible, whoselandlady proved to have been trained as a cook in a Frankfort hotel. 

The lodgings we engaged were among the most "romantic" I have everoccupied, for our landlord's house was built in the ruins of themonastery just beside the old refectory. The windows of one room lookedout upon the cloisters and the Virgin's chapel, the only part of theonce stately building spared by the French in 1692. 

A venerable abode of intellectual life was destroyed with thismonastery, founded by a Count von Calw early in the ninth century. Thetower which has been preserved is one of the oldest and most interestingworks of Romanesque architecture in Germany. 

A quieter spot cannot be imagined, for I was the first who soughtrecreation here. Surrounded by memories of olden days, and absolutelyundisturbed, I could create admirably. But one cannot remain permanentlysecluded from mankind. 

First came the Herr Kameralverwalter, whose stately residence stood nearthe monastery, and in his wife's name invited us to use their prettygarden. 

This gentleman's title threw his name so far into the shade that I hadknown the pleasant couple five weeks before I found it was Belfinger. 

We also made the acquaintance of our host, Herr Meyer. Strange andvaried were the paths along which Fate had led this man. As a richbachelor he had welcomed guests to his ever-open house with salvos ofartillery, and hence was still called Cannon Meyer, though, after havingsquandered his patrimony, he remained absent from his home for manyyears. His career in America was one of perpetual vicissitudes andfull of adventures. Afore than once he barely escaped death. At last, conquered by homesickness, he returned to the Black Forest, and with agood, industrious wife. 

His house in the monastery suited his longing for rest; he obtained aposition in the morocco factory in the valley below, which afforded hima support, and his daughters provided for his physical comfort. 

The big, broad-shouldered man with the huge mustache and deep, bassvoice looked like some grey-haired knight whose giant arm could havedealt that Swabian stroke which cleft the foe from skull to saddle, and yet at that time he was occupied from morning until night in thedelicate work splitting the calf skin from whose thin surfaces, whendivided into two portions, fine morocco is made. 

We also met the family of Herr Zahn, in whose factory this leather wasmanufactured; and when in the East I saw red, yellow, and green slipperson the feet of so many Moslems, I could not help thinking of the shadyBlack Forest. 

Sometimes we drove to the little neighbouring town of Calw, where wewere most kindly received. The mornings were uninterrupted, and my workwas very successful. Afternoon sometimes brought visitors from Wildbad, among whom was the artist Gallait, who with his wife and two youngdaughters had come to use the water of the springs. His paintings, "Egmont in Prison, " "The Beheaded Counts Egmont and Horn, " and manyothers, had aroused the utmost admiration. Praise and honours of allkinds had consequently been lavished upon him. This had brought him tothe Spree, and he had often been a welcome guest in our home. 

Like Menzel, Cornelius, Alma Tadema, and Meissonier, he was small instature, but the features of his well-formed face were anything butinsignificant. His whole person was distinguished by something I mightterm "neatness. " Without any touch of dudishness he gave the impressionof having "just stepped out of a bandbox. " From the white cravat whichhe always wore, to the little red ribbon of the order in his buttonhole, everything about him was faultless. 

Madame Gallait, a Parisian by birth, was the very embodiment of theFrench woman in the most charming sense of the word, and the bondwhich united her to her husband seemed enduring and as if woven by thecheeriest gods of love. Unfortunately, it did not last. 

After leaving Hirsau, we again met the Gallaits in Wildbad and spentsome delightful days with them. The Von Burckhardts, Fran HenriettaHallberger, the wife of the Stuttgart publisher, the Puricellis, ourselves, and later the author Moritz Hartmann, were the only personswith whom they associated. We always met every afternoon at a certainplace in the grounds, where we talked or some one read aloud. On theseoccasions, at Gallait's suggestion, everybody who was so disposedsketched. My portrait, which he drew for my mother at that time inblack and red pencils, is now in my wife's possession. I also tookmy sketch-book, for he had seen the school volume I had filled witharabesques just before leaving Keilhau, and I still remember the'merveilleux and incroyable, inoui, and insense' which he lavished onthe certainly extravagant creatures of my love-sick imagination. 

During these exercises in drawing he related many incidents of his ownlife, and never was he more interesting than while describing his firstsuccess. 

He was the son of a poor widow in the little Belgian town of Tournay. While a school-boy he greatly enjoyed drawing, and an able teacherperceived his talent. 

Once he saw in the newspaper an Antwerp competition for a prize. Acertain subject--if I am not mistaken, Moses drawing water from the rockin the wilderness--was to be executed with pencil or charcoal. He wentto work also, though with his defective training he had not the leasthope of success. When he sent off the finished drawing he avoidedtaking his mother into his confidence in order to protect her fromdisappointment. 

On the day the prize was to be awarded the wish to see the work of thesuccessful competitor drew him to Antwerp, and what was his surprise, onentering the hall, to hear his own name proclaimed as the victor's!

His mother supported herself and him by a little business in soap. Toincrease her delight he had changed the gold paid to him into shiningfive franc pieces. His pockets almost burst under the weight, but therewas no end to the rejoicing when he flung one handful of silver coinsafter another on the little counter and told how he had obtained them. 

No one who heard him relate this story could help liking him. 

Another distinguished visitor at Hirsau was Prince Puckler Muskau. He had heard that his young Kottbus acquaintance had begun to devotehimself to Egyptology. This interested the old man, who, as a specialfavourite of Mohammed Ali, had spent delightful days on the Nile andmade all sorts of plans for Egypt. Besides, he was personally acquaintedwith the great founders of my science, Thomas Young and FrancoisChampollion, and had obtained an insight into deciphering thehieroglyphics. He knew all the results of the investigations, andexpressed an opinion concerning them. Without having entered deeply intodetails he often hit the nail on the head. I doubt whether he had everheld in his hand a book on these subjects, but he had listened to theanswers given by others to his skilful questions with the same keenattention that he bestowed on mine, and the gift of comprehensionpeculiar to him enabled him to rapidly shape what he heard into adistinctly outlined picture. Therefore he must have seemed to laymena very compendium of science, yet he never used this faculty to dazzleothers or give himself the appearance of erudition. 

"Man cannot be God, " he wrote--I am quoting from a letter received theday after his visit--"yet 'to be like unto God' need not remain a meretheological phrase to the aspirant. Omniscience is certainly one of thenoblest attributes of the Most High, and the nearer man approaches itthe more surely he gains at least the shadow of a quality to which hecannot aspire. "

Finally he discussed his gardening work in the park at Branitz, and Iregret having noted only the main outlines of what he said, for itwas as interesting as it was admirable. I can only cite the followingsentence from a letter addressed to Blasewitz: "What was I to do? Aprince without a country, like myself, wishes at least to be ruler inone domain, and that I am, as creator of a park. The subjects over whomI reign obey me better than the Russians, who still retain a trace offree will, submit to their Czar. My trees and bushes obey only me andthe eternal laws implanted in their nature, and which I know. Shouldthey swerve from them even a finger's breadth they would no longer bethemselves. It is pleasant to reign over such subjects, and I wouldrather be a despot over vegetable organisms than a constitutionalking and executor of the will of the 'images of God, ' as men call thesovereign people. "

He talked most delightfully of the Viceroy of Egypt, Mohammed Ali, anddescribed the plan which he had laid before this brilliant ruler ofarranging a park around the temple on the island of Philae, and creatingon the eastern bank of the hill beneath shady trees, opposite to thebeautiful island of Isis, a sanitarium especially for consumptives; andwhoever has seen this lovely spot will feel tempted to predict greatprosperity for such an enterprise. My mother had heard the princeindulge in paradoxical assertions in gay society, and the earnestnesswhich he now showed led her to remark that she had never seen twonatures so radically unlike united in one individual. Had she been ableto follow his career in life she would have recovered a third, fourth, and fifth. 

These visits brought life and change into our quiet existence, and whenfour weeks later my brother Ludo joined us he was delighted with theimprovement in my appearance, and I myself felt the benefit which myparalyzed muscles had received from the baths and the seclusion. 

The second season at Wildbad, thanks to the increased intimacy with thefriends whose acquaintance we had made there, was even more enjoyablethan the first. 

Frau Hallberger was a very beautiful young woman. Her husband, who wasto become my dearest friend, was detained in Stuttgart by business. Shewas unfortunately obliged to use the waters of the springs medicinally, and many an hour was clouded by mental and physical discomfort. 

Yet the vivacity of her intellect, her rare familiarity with all thenewest literature, and her unusually keen appreciation of everythingwhich was beautiful in nature stimulated and charmed us. I have neverseen any one seek flowers in the field and forest so eagerly, andshe made them into beautiful bouquets, which Louis Gallait called"bewitching flower madrigals. "

Moritz Hartmann had not fully recovered from the severe illness whichnearly caused his death while he was a reporter in the Crimean War. Hisfather-in-law, Herr Rodiger, accompanied him and watched him with themost touching solicitude. My mother soon became sincerely attached tothe author, who possessed every quality to win a woman's heart. He hadbeen considered the handsomest member of the Frankfort Parliament, andno one could have helped gazing with pleasure at the faultless symmetryof his features. He also possessed an unusually musical voice. Gallaitsaid that he first thought German a language pleasing to the ear when heheard it from Hartmann's lips. 

These qualities soon won the heart of Frau Puricelli, who had at firstbeen very averse to making his acquaintance. The devout, conservativelady had heard enough of his religious and political views to considerhim detestable. But after Hartmann had talked and read aloud to her andher daughter in his charming way, she said to me, "What vexes me is thatin my old age I can't help liking such a red Democrat. "

During that summer was formed the bond of friendship which, to hislife's premature end, united me to Moritz Hartmann, and led to acorrespondence which afforded me the greater pleasure the more certainI became that he understood me. We met again in Wildbad the second andthird summers, and with what pleasure I remember our conversations inthe stillness of the shady woods! But we also shared a noisy amusement, that of pistol practice, to which we daily devoted an hour. I wasobliged to fire from a wheel-chair, yet, like Hartmann, I could boastof many a good shot; but the skill of Herr Rodiger, the author'sfather-in-law, was really wonderful. Though his hand trembled constantlyfrom an attack of palsy, I don't know now how many times he pierced thecentre of the ace of hearts. 

It was Hartmann, too, who constantly urged me to write. With all dueregard for science, he said he could not admit its right to prisonpoesy when the latter showed so strong an impulse towards expression. Isecretly admitted the truth of his remark, but whenever I yielded to theimpulse to write I felt as if I were being disloyal to the mistress towhom I had devoted all my physical and mental powers. 

The conflict which for a long time stirred my whole soul began. I couldsay much more of the first years I spent at Wildbad, but up to the fifthseason they bore too much resemblance to one another to be described indetail. 

A more brilliant summer than that of 1860 the quiet valley of the Enzwill hardly witness again, for during that season the invalid widow ofthe Czar Nicholas of Russia came to the springs with a numerous suite, and her presence attracted many other crowned heads--the King ofPrussia, afterwards the Emperor William I, her royal brother; herbeautiful daughter, Queen Olga of Wurtemberg, who, when she walkedthrough the grounds with her greyhound, called to mind the haughtyArtemis; the Queen of Bavaria--But I will not enumerate all the royalpersonages who visited the Czarina, and whose presence gave the littletown in the Black Forest an atmosphere of life and brilliancy. Not a daypassed without affording some special feast for the eyes. 

The Czarina admired beauty, and therefore among her attendants weremany, ladies who possessed unusual attractions. When they were seatedin a group on the steps of the hotel the picture was one never to beforgotten. A still more striking spectacle was afforded by a voyage madeon the Enz by the ladies of the Czarina's court, attired in airy summerdresses and adorned with a lavish abundance of flowers. From the shoregentlemen flung them blossoms as they were borne swiftly down themountain stream. I, too, had obtained some roses, intended especiallyfor Princess Marie von Leuchtenberg, of whom the Czarina's physician, Dr. Karel, whose acquaintance we made at the Burckhardts, had told somany charming anecdotes that we could not help admiring her. 

We also met a very beautiful Countess Keller, one of the Czarina'sattendants, and I can still see distinctly the brilliant scene of herdeparture. 

Wildbad was not then connected with the rest of the world by therailroad. The countess sat in an open victoria amid the countless giftsof flowers which had been lavished upon her as farewell presents. CountWilhorsky, in the name of the Czarina, offered an exquisitely beautifulbouquet. As she received it, she exclaimed, "Think of me at nineo'clock, " and the latter, with his hand on his heart, answered with alow bow, "Why, Countess, we shall think of you all day long. "

At the same instant the postillion raised his long whip, the fourbays started, a group of ladies and gentlemen, headed by the master ofceremonies, waved their handkerchiefs, and it seemed as if Flora herselfwas setting forth to bless the earth with flowers. 

For a long time I imagined that during the first summer spent there Ilived only for my health, my scientific studies, and from 1861 my novelAn Egyptian Princess, to which I devoted several hours each day; buthow much I learned from intercourse with so great a variety of persons, among whom were some whom a modest scholar is rarely permitted to know, I first realized afterwards. I allude here merely to the leaders of thearistocracy of the second empire, whose acquaintance I made through theson of my distinguished Parisian instructor, Vicomte de Rouge. 

CHAPTER XXVI. CONTINUANCE OF CONVALESCENCE AND THE FIRST NOVEL. 

The remainder of the summer I spent half with my mother, half with myaunt, and pursued the same course during the subsequent years, untilfrom 1862 I remained longer in Berlin, engaged in study, and began myscientific journeys. 

There were few important events either in the family circle or inpolitics, except the accession to the throne of King William of Prussiaand the Franco-Austrian war of 1859. In Berlin the "new era" awakenedmany fair and justifiable hopes; a fresher current stirred the dull, placid waters of political life. 

The battles of Magenta and Solferino (June 4 and 24, 1859) had causedgreat excitement in the household of my aunt, who loved me as if I wereher own son, and whose husband was also warmly attached to me. They feltthe utmost displeasure in regard to the course of Prussia, and it washard for me to approve of it, since Austria seemed a part of Germany, and I was very fond of my uncle's three nearest relatives, who were allin the Austrian service. 

The future was to show the disadvantage of listening to the voice of theheart in political affairs. Should we have a German empire, and wouldthere be a united Italy, if Austria in alliance with Prussia had foughtin 1859 at Solferino and Magenta and conquered the French?

At Hosterwitz I became more intimately acquainted with the lyric poet, Julius Hammer. The Kammergerichtrath-Gottheiner, a highly educated man, lived there with his daughter Marie, whose exquisite singing at thevilla of her hospitable sister-in-law so charmed my heart. Through themI met many distinguished men-President von Kirchmann, the architectNikolai, the author of Psyche, Privy Councillor Carus, the writerCharles Duboc (Waldmuller) with his beautiful gifted wife, and manyothers. 

Many a Berlin acquaintance, too, I met again at Hosterwitz, among themthe preacher Sydow and Lothar Bucher. 

To the friendship of this remarkable man, whom I knew just at the timehe was associated with Bismarck, I owe many hours of enjoyment. Manywill find it hardly compatible with the reserved, quiet manner of theastute, cool politician, that during a slight illness of my motherhe read Fritz Reuter's novels aloud to her--he spoke Plattdeutschadmirably--as dutifully as a son. 

So there was no lack of entertainment during leisure hours, but thelion's share of my time was devoted to work. 

The same state of affairs existed during my stay with my aunt, whooccupied a summer residence on the estate of Privy-Councillor vonAdelsson, which was divided into building lots long ago, but at thattime was the scene of the gayest social life in both residences. 

The owner and his wife were on the most intimate terms with myrelatives, and their daughter Lina seemed to me the fairest of all theflowers in the Adelsson garden. If ever a girl could be compared to aviolet it was she. I knew her from childhood to maidenhood, and rejoicedwhen I saw her wed in young Count Uexkyll-Guldenbrand a life companionworthy of her. 

There were many other charming girls, too, and my aunt, besides oldfriends, entertained the leaders of literary life in Dresden. 

Gutzkow surpassed them all in acuteness and subtlety of intellect, butthe bluntness of his manner repelled me. 

On the other hand, I sincerely enjoyed the thoughtful eloquence ofBerthold Auerbach, who understood how to invest with poetic charm notonly great and noble subjects, but trivial ones gathered from the dust. If I am permitted to record the memories of my later life, I shallhave more to say of him. It was he who induced me to give to my firstromance, which I had intended to call Nitetis, the title An EgyptianPrincess. 

The stars of the admirable Dresden stage also found their way to myaunt's. 

One day I was permitted to listen to the singing of Emmy La Gruas, andthe next to the peerless Schroder-Devrient. Every conversation withthe cultured physician Geheimerath von Ammon was instructive andfascinating; while Rudolf von Reibisch, the most intimate friend of thefamily, whose great talents would have rendered him capable of reallygrand achievements in various departments of art, examined our skullsas a phrenologist or read aloud his last drama. Here, too, I met MajorSerre, the bold projector of the great lottery whose brilliant successcalled into being and insured the prosperity of the Schiller Institute, the source of so much good. 

This simple-hearted yet energetic man taught me how genuine enthusiasmand the devotion of a whole personality to a cause can win victoryunder the most difficult circumstances. True, his clever wife sharedher husband's enthusiasm, and both understood how to attract the rightadvisers. I afterwards met at their beautiful estate, Maxen, among manydistinguished people, the Danish author Andersen, a man of insignificantpersonal appearance, but one who, if he considered it worth while andwas interested in the subject, could carry his listeners resistlesslywith him. Then his talk sparkled with clever, vivid, striking, peculiarmetaphors, and when one brilliant description of remarkable experiencesand scenes followed another he swiftly won the hearts of the womenwho had overlooked him, and it seemed to the men as if some fiend wereaiding him. 

During the first years of my convalescence I could enjoy nothing savewhat came or was brought to me. But the cheerful patience with which Iappeared to bear my sufferings, perhaps also the gratitude and eagernesswith which I received everything, attracted most of the men and womenfor whom I really cared. 

If there was an entertaining conversation, arrangements were always madethat I should enjoy it, at least as a listener. The affection of thesekind people never wearied in lightening the burden which had been laidupon me. So, during this whole sad period I was rarely utterly wretched, often joyous and happy, though sometimes the victim to the keenestspiritual anguish. 

During the hours of rest which must follow labour, and when tortured atnight by the various painful feelings and conditions connected evenwith convalescence from disease, my restrictions rose before me asa specially heavy misfortune. My whole being rebelled against mysufferings, and--why should I conceal it?--burning tears drenched mypillows after many a happy day. At the time I was obliged to part fromNenny this often happened. Goethe's "He who never mournful nights" Ilearned to understand in the years when the beaker of life foams mostimpetuously for others. But I had learned from my mother to bear mysorest griefs alone, and my natural cheerfulness aided me to win thevictory in the strife against the powers of melancholy. I found it mosteasy to master every painful emotion by recalling the many things forwhich I had cause to be grateful, and sometimes an hour of the fierceststruggle and deepest grief closed with the conviction that I was moreblessed than many thousands of my fellow-mortals, and still a "favouriteof Fortune. " The same feeling steeled my patience and helped to keephope green and sustain my pleasure in existence when, long after, areturn of the same disease, accompanied with severe suffering, which Ihad been spared in youth, snatched me from earnest, beloved, and, I mayassume, successful labour. 

The younger generation may be told once more how effective a consolationman possesses--no matter what troubles may oppress him--in gratitude. The search for everything which might be worthy of thankfulnessundoubtedly leads to that connection with God which is religion. 

When I went to Berlin in winter, harder work, many friends, andespecially my Polish fellow-student, Mieczyslaw helped me bear my burdenpatiently. 

He was well, free, highly gifted, keenly interested in science, andmade rapid progress. Though secure from all external cares, a worm wasgnawing at his heart which gave him no rest night or day--the misery ofhis native land and his family, and the passionate longing to avengeit on the oppressor of the nation. His father had sacrificed the largerportion of his great fortune to the cause of Poland, and, succumbing tothe most cruel persecutions, urged his sons, in their turn, to sacrificeeverything for their native land. They were ready except one brother, who wielded his sword in the service of the oppressor, and thus becameto the others a dreaded and despised enemy. 

Mieczyslaw remained in Berlin raging against himself because, anintellectual epicurean, he was enjoying Oriental studies instead offollowing in the footsteps of his father, his brothers, and most of hisrelatives at home. 

My ideas of the heroes of Polish liberty had been formed from HeinrichHeine's Noble Pole, and I met my companion with a certain feeling ofdistrust. Far from pressing upon me the thoughts which moved him sodeeply, it was long ere he permitted the first glimpse into his soul. But when the ice was once broken, the flood of emotion poured forth withelementary power, and his sincerity was sealed by his blood. He fellarmed on the soil of his home at the time when I was most gratefullyrejoicing in the signs of returning health--the year 1863. I was hisonly friend in Berlin, but I was warmly attached to him, and shallremember him to my life's end. 

The last winter of imprisonment also saw me industriously at work. I hadalready, with Mieczyslaw, devoted myself eagerly to the history of theancient East, and Lepsius especially approved these studies. The list ofthe kings which I compiled at that time, from the most remote sources tothe Sassanida, won the commendation of A. Von Gutschmid, the most ableinvestigator in this department. These researches led me also toPersia and the other Asiatic countries. Egypt, of course, remainedthe principal province of my work. The study of the kings from thetwenty-sixth dynasty--that is, the one with which the independence ofthe Pharaohs ended and the rule of the Persians under Cambyses beganin the valley of the Nile--occupied me a long time. I used the materialthus acquired afterward for my habilitation essay, but the impulsenatural to me of imparting my intellectual gains to others had inducedme to utilize it in a special way. The material I had collected appearedin my judgment exactly suited for a history of the time that Egypt fellinto the power of Persia. Jacob Burckhardt's Constantine the Great wasto serve for my model. I intended to lay most stress upon the state ofcivilization, the intellectual and religious life, art, and sciencein Egypt, Greece, Persia, Phoenicia, etc. , and after most carefullyplanning the arrangement I began to write with the utmost zeal. 

 [I still have the unfinished manuscript; but the farther I advanced the stronger became the conviction, now refuted by Eduard Meyer, that it would not yet be possible to write a final history of that period which would stand the test of criticism. ]

While thus engaged, the land of the Pharaohs, the Persian court, Greecein the time of the Pisistratidae and Polycrates grew more and moredistinct before my mental vision. Herodotus's narrative of the falseprincess sent by Pharaoh Amasis to Cambyses as a wife, and who becamethe innocent cause of the war through which the kingdom of the Pharaohslost its independence, would not bear criticism, but it was certainlyusable material for a dramatic or epic poem. And this material gave meno peace. 

Yes, something might certainly be done with it. I soon mastered itcompletely, but gradually the relation changed and it mastered me, gave me no rest, and forced me to try upon it the poetic power so longcondemned to rest. 

When I set to work I was not permitted to leave the house in theevening. Was it disloyal to science if I dedicated to poesy the hourswhich others called leisure time? The question was put to the innerjudge in such a way that he could not fail to say "No. " I also triedsuccessfully to convince myself that I merely essayed to write this taleto make the material I had gathered "live, " and bring the persons andconditions of the period whose history I wished to write as near to meas if I were conversing with them and dwelling in their midst. Howoften I repeated to myself this well-founded apology, but in truth everyinstinct of my nature impelled me to write, and at this very time MoritzHartmann was also urging me in his letters, while Mieczyslaw and others, even my mother, encouraged me. 

I began because I could not help it, and probably scarcely any workever stood more clearly arranged, down to the smallest detail, in itscreator's imagination, than the Egyptian Princess in mine when I tookup my pen. Only the first volume originally contained much more Egyptianmaterial, and the third I lengthened beyond my primary intention. Manynotes of that time I was unwilling to leave unused and, though thedetails are not uninteresting, their abundance certainly impairs theeffect of the whole. 

As for the characters, most of them were familiar. 

How many of my mother's traits the beautiful, dignified Rhodopispossessed! King Amasis was Frederick William IV, the Greek Phanesresembled President Seiffart. Nitetis, too, I knew. I had often jestedwith Atossa, and Sappho was a combination of my charming Frankfortcousin Betsy, with whom I spent such delightful days in Rippoldsau, and lovely Lina von Adelsson. Like the characters in the works of thegreatest of writers--I mean Goethe--not one of mine was wholly invented, but neither was any an accurate portrait of the model. 

I by no means concealed from myself the difficulties with which I hadto contend or the doubts the critics would express, but this troubled mevery little. I was writing the book only for myself and my mother, wholiked to hear every chapter read as it was finished. I often thoughtthat this novel might perhaps share the fate of my Poem of the World, and find its way into the fire. 

No matter. The greatest success could afford me no higher pleasure thanthe creative labour. Those were happy evenings when, wholly liftedout of myself, I lived in a totally different world, and, like a god, directed the destinies of the persons who were my creatures. The lovescenes between Bartja and Sappho I did not invent; they came to me. When, with brow damp with perspiration, I committed the first one topaper in a single evening, I found the next morning, to my surprise, that only a few touches were needed to convert it into a poem iniambics. 

This was scarcely permissible in a novel. But the scene pleased mymother, and when I again brought the lovers together in the warmstillness of the Egyptian night, and perceived that the flood of iambicswas once more sweeping me along, I gave free course to the creativespirit and the pen, and the next morning the result was the same. 

I then took Julius Hammer into my confidence, and he thought that I hadgiven expression to the overflowing emotion of two loving young heartsin a very felicitous and charming way. 

While my friends were enjoying themselves in ball-rooms or excitingsociety, Fate still condemned me to careful seclusion in my mother'shouse. But when I was devoting myself to the creation of my Nitetis, Ienvied no man, scarcely even a god. 

So this novel approached completion. It had not deprived me of anhour of actual working time, yet the doubt whether I had done rightto venture on this side flight into fairer and better lands during myjourney through the department of serious study was rarely silent. 

At the beginning of the third volume I ventured to move more freely. 

Yet when I went to Lepsius, the most earnest of my teachers, to show himthe finished manuscript, I felt very anxious. I had not said even aword in allusion to what I was doing in the evening hours, and thethree volumes of my large manuscript were received by him in a way thatwarranted the worst fears. He even asked how I, whom he had believed tobe a serious worker, had been tempted into such "side issues. "

This was easy to explain, and when he had heard me to the end he said:"I might have thought of that. You sometimes need a cup of Lethe water. But now let such things alone, and don't compromise your reputation as ascientist by such extravagances. "

Yet he kept the manuscript and promised to look at the curiosity. 

He did more. He read it through to the last letter, and when, afortnight later; he asked me at his house to remain after the othershad left, he looked pleased, and confessed that he had found somethingentirely different from what he expected. The book was a scholarly work, and also a fascinating romance. 

Then he expressed some doubts concerning the space I had devoted to theEgyptians in my first arrangement. Their nature was too reserved andtypical to hold the interest of the unscientific reader. According tohis view, I should do well to limit to Egyptian soil what I had gainedby investigation, and to make Grecian life, which was familiar to usmoderns as the foundation of our aesthetic perceptions, more prominent. The advice was good, and, keeping it in view, I began to subject thewhole romance to a thorough revision. 

Before going to Wildbad in the summer of 1863 I had a seriousconversation with my teacher and friend. Hitherto, he said, he hadavoided any discussion of my future; but now that I was so decidedlyconvalescing, he must tell me that even the most industrious work asa "private scholar, " as people termed it, would not satisfy me. I wasfitted for an academic career, and he advised me to keep it in view. AsI had already thought of this myself, I eagerly assented, and my motherwas delighted with my resolution. 

How we met in Wildbad my never-to-be-forgotten friend the Stuttgartpublisher, Eduard von Hallberger; how he laid hands upon my EgyptianPrincess; and how the fate of this book and its author led through joyand sorrow, pleasure and pain, I hope, ere my last hour strikes, tocommunicate to my family and the friends my life and writings havegained. 

When I left Berlin, so far recovered that I could again move freely, Iwas a mature man. The period of development lay behind me. Thoughthe education of an aspiring man ends only with his last breath, thecommencement of my labours as a teacher outwardly closed mine, and animportant goal in life lay before me. A cruel period of probation, richin suffering and deprivations, had made the once careless youth familiarwith the serious side of existence, and taught him to control himself. 

After once recognizing that progress in the department of investigationin which I intended to guide others demanded the devotion of allmy powers, I succeeded in silencing the ceaseless longing for freshcreations of romance. The completion of a second long novel would haveimperilled the unity with myself which I was striving to attain, andwhich had been represented to me by the noblest of my instructors asmy highest goal in life. So I remained steadfast, although the greatsuccess of my first work rendered it very difficult. Temptations ofevery kind, even in the form of brilliant offers from the most prominentGerman publishers, assailed me, but I resisted, until at the end of halfa lifetime I could venture to say that I was approaching my goal, andthat it was now time to grant the muse what I had so long denied. Thus, that portion of my nature which was probably originally the stronger waspermitted to have its life. During long days of suffering romance wasagain a kind and powerful comforter. 

Severe suffering had not succeeded in stifling the cheerful spirit ofthe boy and the youth; it did not desert me in manhood. When the sky ofmy life was darkened by the blackest clouds it appeared amid the gloomlike a radiant star announcing brighter days; and if I were to name thepowers by whose aid I have again and again dispelled even the heaviestclouds which threatened to overshadow my happiness in existence, theymust be called gratitude, earnest work, and the motto of blind oldLangethal, "Love united with the strife for truth. "

THE END. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF EBERS:

 A word at the right time and place Appreciation of trifles Carpe diem Child is naturally egotistical Child cannot distinguish between what is amusing and what is sad Coach moved by electricity Confucius's command not to love our fellow-men but to respect Deserve the gratitude of my people, though it should be denied Do thoroughly whatever they do at all Full as an egg Half-comprehended catchwords serve as a banner Hanging the last king with the guts of the last priest Hollow of the hand, Diogenes's drinking-cup How effective a consolation man possesses in gratitude I approve of such foolhardiness I plead with voice and pen in behalf of fairy tales Life is valued so much less by the young Life is the fairest fairy tale (Anderson) Loved himself too much to give his whole affection to any one Men studying for their own benefit, not the teacher's Nobody was allowed to be perfectly idle Phrase and idea "philosophy of religion" as an absurdity Readers often like best what is most incredible Required courage to be cowardly Scorned the censure of the people, he never lost sight of it Smell most powerful of all the senses in awakening memory The carp served on Christmas eve in every Berlin family To be happy, one must forget what cannot be altered Unjust to injure and rob the child for the benefit of the man What father does not find something to admire in his child When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE COMPLETE NOVELS OF EBERS:

 A noble mind can never swim with the stream A first impression is often a final one A small joy makes us to forget our heavy griefs A live dog is better than a dead king A well-to-do man always gets a higher price than a poor one A subdued tone generally provokes an equally subdued answer A dirty road serves when it makes for the goal A knot can often be untied by daylight A school where people learned modesty A word at the right time and place A mere nothing in one man's life, to another may be great A debtor, says the proverb, is half a prisoner A kind word hath far more power than an angry one A blustering word often does good service Abandon to the young the things we ourselves used most to enjoy Abandoned women (required by law to help put out the fires) Absence of suffering is not happiness Abuse not those who have outwitted thee Action trod on the heels of resolve Age is inquisitive Age when usually even bad liquor tastes of honey Aimless life of pleasure Air of a professional guide All I did was right in her eyes All things were alike to me Always more good things in a poor family which was once rich Among fools one must be a fool An admirer of the lovely color of his blue bruises Ancient custom, to have her ears cut off And what is great--and what is small Apis the progeny of a virgin cow and a moonbeam Appreciation of trifles Ardently they desire that which transcends sense Arrogant wave of the hand, and in an instructive tone Art ceases when ugliness begins As every word came straight from her heart Asenath, the wife of Joseph, had been an Egyptian Ask for what is feasible Aspect obnoxious to the gaze will pour water on the fire Assigned sixty years as the limit of a happy life At my age we count it gain not to be disappointed At my age every year must be accepted as an undeserved gift Attain a lofty height from which to look down upon others Avoid excessive joy as well as complaining grief Avoid all useless anxiety Be not merciful unto him who is a liar or a rebel Be happy while it is yet time Be cautious how they are compassionate Bearers of ill ride faster than the messengers of weal Before you serve me up so bitter a meal (the truth) Before learning to obey, he was permitted to command Begun to enjoy the sound of his own voice Behold, the puny Child of Man Between two stools a man falls to the ground Beware lest Satan find thee idle! Blessings go as quickly as they come Blind tenderness which knows no reason Blossom of the thorny wreath of sorrow Brief "eternity" of national covenants Brought imagination to bear on my pastimes But what do you men care for the suffering you inflict on others Buy indugence for sins to be committed in the future By nature she is not and by circumstances is compelled to be Call everything that is beyond your comprehension a miracle Called his daughter to wash his feet Cambyses had been spoiled from his earliest infancy Camels, which were rarely seen in Egypt Can such love be wrong? Canal to connect the Nile with the Red Sea Cannot understand how trifles can make me so happy Caress or a spank from you--each at the proper time Carpe diem Cast my warning to the winds, pity will also fly away with it Cast off their disease as a serpent casts its skin Cast off all care; be mindful only of pleasure Catholic, but his stomach desired to be Protestant (Erasmus) Caught the infection and had to laugh whether she would or no Cautious inquiry saves recantation Child is naturally egotistical Child cannot distinguish between what is amusing and what is sad Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow Choose between too great or too small a recompense Christian hypocrites who pretend to hate life and love death Christianity had ceased to be the creed of the poor Clothes the ugly truth as with a pleasing garment Coach moved by electricity Colored cakes in the shape of beasts Comparing their own fair lot with the evil lot of others Confess I would rather provoke a lioness than a woman Confucius's command not to love our fellow-men but to respect Contempt had become too deep for hate Corpse to be torn in pieces by dogs and vultures Couple seemed to get on so perfectly well without them Creed which views life as a short pilgrimage to the grave Curiosity is a woman's vice Death is so long and life so short Death itself sometimes floats 'twixt cup and lip' Debts, but all anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors Deceit is deceit Deem every hour that he was permitted to breathe as a gift Deficient are as guilty in their eyes as the idle Desert is a wonderful physician for a sick soul Deserve the gratitude of my people, though it should be denied Desire to seek and find a power outside us Despair and extravagant gayety ruled her nature by turns Devoid of occupation, envy easily becomes hatred Did the ancients know anything of love Do not spoil the future for the sake of the present Do thoroughly whatever they do at all Does happiness consist then in possession Dread which the ancients had of the envy of the gods Dried merry-thought bone of a fowl Drink of the joys of life thankfully, and in moderation Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it Easy to understand what we like to hear Enjoy the present day Epicurus, who believed that with death all things ended Eros mocks all human efforts to resist or confine him Especial gift to listen keenly and question discreetly Ever creep in where true love hath found a nest--(jealousy) Every misfortune brings its fellow with it Everything that exists moves onward to destruction and decay Evolution and annihilation Exceptional people are destined to be unhappy in this world Exhibit one's happiness in the streets, and conceal one's misery Eyes kind and frank, without tricks of glance Eyes are much more eloquent than all the tongues in the world Facts are differently reflected in different minds Fairest dreams of childhood were surpassed Faith and knowledge are things apart False praise, he says, weighs more heavily than disgrace Flattery is a key to the heart Flee from hate as the soul's worst foe Folly to fret over what cannot be undone For fear of the toothache, had his sound teeth drawn For the sake of those eyes you forgot all else For the errors of the wise the remedy is reparation, not regret For what will not custom excuse and sanctify? Forbidden the folly of spoiling the present by remorse Force which had compelled every one to do as his neighbors Forty or fifty, when most women only begin to be wicked From Epicurus to Aristippus, is but a short step Fruits and pies and sweetmeats for the little ones at home Full as an egg Galenus--What I like is bad for me, what I loathe is wholesome Gave them a claim on your person and also on your sorrows Germans are ever proud of a man who is able to drink deep Go down into the grave before us (Our children) Golden chariot drawn by tamed lions Good advice is more frequently unheeded than followed Great happiness, and mingled therefor with bitter sorrow Greeks have not the same reverence for truth Grief is grief, and this new sorrow does not change the old one Had laid aside what we call nerves Half-comprehended catchwords serve as a banner Hanging the last king with the guts of the last priest Happiness has nothing to do with our outward circumstances Happiness is only the threshold to misery Happiness should be found in making others happy Harder it is to win a thing the higher its value becomes Hast thou a wounded heart? touch it seldom Hat is the sign of liberty, and the free man keeps his hat on Hate, though never sated, can yet be gratified Hatred and love are the opposite ends of the same rod Hatred for all that hinders the growth of light Hatred between man and man Have not yet learned not to be astonished Have never been fain to set my heart on one only maid Have lived to feel such profound contempt for the world He may talk about the soul--what he is after is the girl He who kills a cat is punished (for murder) He who looks for faith must give faith He is clever and knows everything, but how silly he looks now He was steadfast in everything, even anger He only longed to be hopeful once more, to enjoy the present He who is to govern well must begin by learning to obey He was made to be plundered He is the best host, who allows his guests the most freedom He has the gift of being easily consoled He who wholly abjures folly is a fool He out of the battle can easily boast of being unconquered He spoke with pompous exaggeration Held in too slight esteem to be able to offer an affront Her white cat was playing at her feet Her eyes were like open windows Here the new custom of tobacco-smoking was practised His sole effort had seemed to be to interfere with no one Hold pleasure to be the highest good Hollow of the hand, Diogenes's drinking-cup Homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto Honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment Hopeful soul clings to delay as the harbinger of deliverance How easy it is to give wounds, and how hard it is to heal How could they find so much pleasure in such folly How tender is thy severity How effective a consolation man possesses in gratitude Human sacrifices, which had been introduced by the Phoenicians Human beings hate the man who shows kindness to their enemies I am human, nothing that is human can I regard as alien to me I approve of such foolhardiness I plead with voice and pen in behalf of fairy tales I must either rest or begin upon something new I cannot. . . Say rather: I will not I know that I am of use I have never deviated from the exact truth even in jest I was not swift to anger, nor a liar, nor a violent ruler I do not like to enquire about our fate beyond the grave Idleness had long since grown to be the occupation of his life If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon If one only knew who it is all for If it were right we should not want to hide ourselves If speech be silver, silence then is gold! Ill-judgment to pronounce a thing impossible Impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player In order to find himself for once in good company--(Solitude) In whom some good quality or other may not be discovered In those days men wept, as well as women In this immense temple man seemed a dwarf in his own eyes In our country it needs more courage to be a coward In war the fathers live to mourn for their slain sons Inn, was to be found about every eighteen miles Inquisitive eyes are intrusive company Introduced a regular system of taxation-Darius It is not seeing, it is seeking that is delightful It was such a comfort once more to obey an order It is not by enthusiasm but by tactics that we defeat a foe It is the passionate wish that gives rise to the belief Jealousy has a thousand eyes Judge only by appearances, and never enquire into the causes Kisra called wine the soap of sorrow Know how to honor beauty; and prove it by taking many wives Last Day we shall be called to account for every word we utter Laugh at him with friendly mockery, such as hurts no man Laughing before sunrise causes tears at evening Learn early to pass lightly over little things Learn to obey, that later you may know how to command Life is not a banquet Life is a function, a ministry, a duty Life is the fairest fairy tale (Anderson) Life is valued so much less by the young Life had fulfilled its pledges Like the cackle of hens, which is peculiar to Eastern women Like a clock that points to one hour while it strikes another Love has two faces: tender devotion and bitter aversion Love means suffering--those who love drag a chain with them Love which is able and ready to endure all things Love laughs at locksmiths Love is at once the easiest and the most difficult Love overlooks the ravages of years and has a good memory Loved himself too much to give his whole affection to any one Lovers delighted in nature then as now Lovers are the most unteachable of pupils Maid who gives hope to a suitor though she has no mind to hear Man, in short, could be sure of nothing Man works with all his might for no one but himself Man is the measure of all things Man has nothing harder to endure than uncertainty Many creditors are so many allies Many a one would rather be feared than remain unheeded Marred their best joy in life by over-hasty ire May they avoid the rocks on which I have bruised my feet Medicines work harm as often as good Men studying for their own benefit, not the teacher's Men folks thought more about me than I deemed convenient Mirrors were not allowed in the convent Misfortune too great for tears Misfortunes commonly come in couples yoked like oxen Misfortunes never come singly Money is a pass-key that turns any lock More to the purpose to think of the future than of the past Mosquito-tower with which nearly every house was provided Most ready to be angry with those to whom we have been unjust Multitude who, like the gnats, fly towards every thing brilliant Museum of Alexandria and the Library Must take care not to poison the fishes with it Must--that word is a ploughshare which suits only loose soil Natural impulse which moves all old women to favor lovers Nature is sufficient for us Never speaks a word too much or too little Never so clever as when we have to find excuses for our own sins Never to be astonished at anything No judgment is so hard as that dealt by a slave to slaves No man is more than man, and many men are less No man was allowed to ask anything of the gods for himself No good excepting that from which we expect the worst No, she was not created to grow old No happiness will thrive on bread and water No one we learn to hate more easily, than the benefactor No man gains profit by any experience other than his own No false comfort, no cloaking of the truth No one so self-confident and insolent as just such an idiot No virtue which can be owned like a house or a steed Nobody was allowed to be perfectly idle None of us really know anything rightly Not yet fairly come to the end of yesterday Nothing in life is either great or small Nothing is perfectly certain in this world Nothing permanent but change Nothing so certain as that nothing is certain Nothing is more dangerous to love, than a comfortable assurance Numbers are the only certain things Observe a due proportion in all things Obstacles existed only to be removed Obstinacy--which he liked to call firm determination Of two evils it is wise to choose the lesser Often happens that apparent superiority does us damage Old women grow like men, and old men grow like women Old age no longer forgets; it is youth that has a short memory Olympics--The first was fixed 776 B. C. Omnipotent God, who had preferred his race above all others On with a new love when he had left the third bridge behind him Once laughed at a misfortune, its sting loses its point One falsehood usually entails another One of those women who will not bear to be withstood One should give nothing up for lost excepting the dead One hand washes the other One must enjoy the time while it is here One who stood in the sun must need cast a shadow on other folks One Head, instead of three, ruled the Church Only the choice between lying and silence Only two remedies for heart-sickness:--hope and patience Ordered his feet to be washed and his head anointed Our thinkers are no heroes, and our heroes are no sages Overbusy friends are more damaging than intelligent enemies Overlooks his own fault in his feeling of the judge's injustice Ovid, 'We praise the ancients' Pain is the inseparable companion of love Papyrus Ebers Patronizing friendliness Pays better to provide for people's bodies than for their brains People who have nothing to do always lack time People see what they want to see Perish all those who do not think as we do Philosophers who wrote of the vanity of writers Phrase and idea "philosophy of religion" as an absurdity Pilgrimage to the grave, and death as the only true life Pious axioms to be repeated by the physician, while compounding Pleasant sensation of being a woman, like any other woman Possess little and require nothing Pray for me, a miserable man--for I was a man Precepts and lessons which only a mother can give Prefer deeds to words Preferred a winding path to a straight one Prepare sorrow when we come into the world Prepared for the worst; then you are armed against failure Pretended to see nothing in the old woman's taunts Priests that they should instruct the people to be obedient Priests: in order to curb the unruly conduct of the populace Principle of over-estimating the strength of our opponents Provide yourself with a self-devised ruler Rapture and anguish--who can lay down the border line Readers often like best what is most incredible Reason is a feeble weapon in contending with a woman Refreshed by the whip of one of the horsemen Regard the utterances and mandates of age as wisdom Regular messenger and carrier-dove service had been established Remember, a lie and your death are one and the same Repeated the exclamation: "Too late!" and again, "Too late!" Repos ailleurs Repugnance for the old laws began to take root in his heart Required courage to be cowardly Resistance always brings out a man's best powers Retreat behind the high-sounding words "justice and law" Robes cut as to leave the right breast uncovered Romantic love, as we know it, a result of Christianity Rules of life given by one man to another are useless Scarcely be able to use so large a sum--Then abuse it Scorned the censure of the people, he never lost sight of it Sea-port was connected with Medina by a pigeon-post Seditious words are like sparks, which are borne by the wind See facts as they are and treat them like figures in a sum Seems most charming at the time we are obliged to resign it Self-interest and egoism which drive him into the cave Sent for a second interpreter Shadow which must ever fall where there is light Shadow of the candlestick caught her eye before the light She would not purchase a few more years of valueless life Shipwrecked on the cliffs of 'better' and 'best' Should I be a man, if I forgot vengeance? Shuns the downward glance of compassion Sing their libels on women (Greek Philosophers) Sky as bare of cloud as the rocks are of shrubs and herbs Sleep avoided them both, and each knew that the other was awake Smell most powerful of all the senses in awakening memory So long as we are able to hope and wish So long as we do not think ourselves wretched, we are not so So hard is it to forego the right of hating Some caution is needed even in giving a warning Soul which ceases to regard death as a misfortune finds peace Speaking ill of others is their greatest delight Spoilt to begin with by their mothers, and then all the women Standing still is retrograding Strongest of all educational powers--sorrow and love Successes, like misfortunes, never come singly Take heed lest pride degenerate into vainglory Talk of the wolf and you see his tail Temples would be empty if mortals had nothing left to wish for Temples of the old gods were used as quarries Tender and uncouth natural sounds, which no language knows That tears were the best portion of all human life The heart must not be filled by another's image The blessing of those who are more than they seem The past belongs to the dead; only fools count upon the future The priests are my opponents, my masters The carp served on Christmas eve in every Berlin family The gods cast envious glances at the happiness of mortals The past must stand; it is like a scar The man who avoids his kind and lives in solitude The beautiful past is all he has to live upon The altar where truth is mocked at The older one grows the quicker the hours hurry away The shirt is closer than the coat The beginning of things is not more attractive The mother of foresight looks backwards The greatness he had gained he overlooked The dressing and undressing of the holy images The god Amor is the best schoolmaster The not over-strong thread of my good patience The man within him, and not on the circumstances without The scholar's ears are at his back: when he is flogged The best enjoyment in creating is had in anticipation The experienced love to signify their superiority Then hate came; but it did not last long There is no 'never, ' no surely There are no gods, and whoever bows makes himself a slave There is nothing better than death, for it is peace They who will, can They praise their butchers more than their benefactors They keep an account in their heart and not in their head They get ahead of us, and yet--I would not change with them Thin-skinned, like all up-starts in authority Think of his wife, not with affection only, but with pride Those are not my real friends who tell me I am beautiful Those who will not listen must feel Those two little words 'wish' and 'ought' Those whom we fear, says my uncle, we cannot love Thou canst say in words what we can only feel Though thou lose all thou deemest thy happiness Thought that the insane were possessed by demons Time is clever in the healing art Title must not be a bill of fare To pray is better than to bathe To govern the world one must have less need of sleep To know half is less endurable than to know nothing To her it was not a belief but a certainty To the child death is only slumber To expect gratitude is folly To the mines meant to be doomed to a slow, torturing death To whom the emotion of sorrow affords a mournful pleasure To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels To-morrow could give them nothing better than to-day To be happy, one must forget what cannot be altered Tone of patronizing instruction assumed by the better informed Trifling incident gains importance when undue emphasis is laid Trouble does not enhance beauty True host puts an end to the banquet Trustfulness is so dear, so essential to me Two griefs always belong to one joy Unjust to injure and rob the child for the benefit of the man Until neither knew which was the giver and which the receiver Unwise to try to make a man happy by force Use their physical helplessness as a defence Use words instead of swords, traps instead of lances Usually found the worst wine in the taverns with showy signs Vagabond knaves had already been put to the torture Very hard to imagine nothingness Virtues are punished in this world Voice of the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute Wait, child! What is life but waiting? Waiting is the merchant's wisdom Wakefulness may prolong the little term of life War is a perversion of nature We live for life, not for death We quarrel with no one more readily than with the benefactor We each and all are waiting We've talked a good deal of love with our eyes already Welcome a small evil when it barred the way to a greater one Were we not one and all born fools Wet inside, he can bear a great deal of moisture without What had formerly afforded me pleasure now seemed shallow What changes so quickly as joy and sorrow What are we all but puny children? What father does not find something to admire in his child Whatever a man would do himself, he thinks others are capable of When love has once taken firm hold of a man in riper years When a friend refuses to share in joys When men-children deem maids to be weak and unfit for true sport When hate and revenge speak, gratitude shrinks timidly When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off Whether the form of our benevolence does more good or mischief Whether man were the best or the worst of created beings Whether the historical romance is ever justifiable Who watches for his neighbour's faults has a hundred sharp eyes Who can point out the road that another will take Who can be freer than he who needs nothing Who only puts on his armor when he is threatened Who does not struggle ward, falls back Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again Who do all they are able and enjoy as much as they can get Who can take pleasure in always seeing a gloomy face? Who can prop another's house when his own is falling Who can hope to win love that gives none Whoever condemns, feels himself superior Whoever will not hear, must feel Wide world between the purpose and the deed Wise men hold fast by the ever young present Without heeding the opinion of mortals Woman who might win the love of a highly-gifted soul (Pays for it) Woman's disapproving words were blown away by the wind Woman's hair is long, but her wit is short Women are indeed the rock ahead in this young fellow's life Wonder we leave for the most part to children and fools Words that sounded kindly, but with a cold, unloving heart Wrath has two eyes--one blind, the other keener than a falcon's Ye play with eternity as if it were but a passing moment Years are the foe of beauty You have a habit of only looking backwards Young Greek girls pass their sad childhood in close rooms Youth should be modest, and he was assertive Youth calls 'much, ' what seems to older people 'little' Zeus does not hear the vows of lovers Zeus pays no heed to lovers' oaths