lunch was served, and an abundant hot meal was not enjoyed until evening.
In the large cities we dined at good hotels at the table d'hote, and--as
in Dresden, Prague, and Coburg--were taken to the theatre.

But we often spent the night in the villages, and then chairs were turned
upside down, loose straw was spread on the backs and over the floor, and,
wrapped in the shawl which almost every boy carried buckled to his
knapsack, we slept, only half undressed, as comfortably as in the softest
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 teachers
told us a story. Schaffner and Bagge could do this best, but we often met
other pedestrians with whom we entered into conversation. How delightful
is the memory of these tramps! Progress on foot is slow, but not only do
we see ten times better than from a carriage or the window of a car, but
we hear and learn something while talking with the mechanics, citizens,
and peasants who are going the same way, or the landlords, bar-maids, and
table companions we meet in the taverns, whose guests live according to
the custom of the country instead of the international pattern of our
great hotels.

As a young married man, I always anticipated as the greatest future
happiness 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 days
before that time the village church festival was celebrated under the
village linden, with plenty of cakes, and a dance of the peasants, in
which we older ones took part. But we were obliged to devote several
hours of every day to describing our journey for our relatives at home.
Each one filled a large book, which was to be neatly written. The
exercise afforded better practice in describing personal experiences than
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 to be
the most fraught with suffering, at that time seemed perhaps the
pleasantest; for none afforded a better opportunity for wrestling and
playing. It brought delicious fruit, and never was the fire lighted more
frequently on the hearth in the plots of ground assigned to the
pupils--baking and boiling were pleasant during the cool afternoons.

No month seemed to us so cheery as October. During its course the apples
and pears were gathered, and an old privilege allowed the pupils "to
glean"--that is, to claim the fruit left on the trees. This tested the
keenness of our young eyes, but it sometimes happened that we confounded
trees still untouched with those which had been harvested. "Nitimur in
vetitum semper cupimusque negata,"--[The forbidden charms, and the
unexpected lures us.]--is an excellent saying of Ovid, whose truth, when
he tested it in person, was the cause of his exile. It sometimes brought
us into conflict with the owners of the trees, and it was only natural
that "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 the
proverb was right in regard to us Keilhau boys.

Whatever fruit is meant in the story related in Genesis of the fall of
man, none could make it clearer to German children than the apple. The
Keilhau ones were kept in a cellar, and through the opening we thrust a
pole to which the blade of a rapier was fastened. This sometimes brought
us up four or five apples at once, which hung on the blade like the flock
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 heads of
the institute, ever thought of blaming or checking the zest for this
appropriation of other people's property.

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

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

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

Then winter came.

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

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

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

I took an active part in all these matters during my entire residence at
the institute, and we three Ebers brothers had the reputation of being
among the best actors, though Martin far surpassed us. We had invented
another variety of theatrical performances which we often enjoyed on
winter evenings after supper, unless one of the teachers read aloud to
us, or we boys performed the classic dramas. While I was one of the
younger pupils, we used the large and complete puppet-show which belonged
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 the others
the plot. The whole was divided into scenes, and each character was
assigned to some representative who was left to personate it according to
his own conception, choosing the words and gestures which he deemed most
appropriate.

I enjoyed nothing more than these performances; and my mother, who
witnessed several of them during one of her visits, afterwards said that
it was surprising how well we had managed the affair and acted our parts.

For a long time I was the moving spirit in this play, and we had no lack
of talented mimes, personators of sentimental heroes, and droll
comedians. The women's parts, of course, were also taken by boys. Ludo
made a wonderfully pretty girl. I was sometimes one thing, sometimes
another, but almost always stage manager.

These merry improvisations were certainly well fitted to strengthen the
creative power and activity of our intellects. There was no lack of
admirable stage properties, for the large wardrobe of the institute was
at our disposal whenever we wanted to act, which was at least once a week
during the whole winter, except in the Advent season, when everything was
obliged to yield to the demand of the approaching Christmas festival.
Then we were all busy in making presents for our relatives. The younger
ones manufactured various cardboard trifles; the older pupils, as embryo
cabinet-makers, all sorts of pretty and useful things, especially boxes.

Unluckily, I did not excel as a cabinet-maker, though I managed to finish
tolerable boxes; but my mother had two made by the more skilful hands of
Ludo, which were provided with locks and hinges, so neatly finished,
veneered, and polished that many a trained cabinet-maker's apprentice
could have done no better. It was one of Froebel's principles--as I have
already mentioned--to follow the "German taste for manual labor," and
have us work with spades and pickaxes (in our plots of ground), and with
squares, chisels, and saws (in the pasteboard and carving lessons).

A clever elderly man, the sapper, or Sabuim, already mentioned--I think I
never heard his real name--instructed us in the trades of the book binder
and cabinet-maker. He was said to have served under Napoleon as a sapper,
and afterwards settled in our neighbourhood, and found occupation in
Keilhau. He was skilful in all kinds of manual labour, and an excellent
teacher. The nearer Christmas came the busier were the workshops; and
while usually there was no noise, they now resounded with Christmas
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 had
been so delightful that the first year I felt troubled by the idea that
the festival must be celebrated away from my mother and without her. But
after we had shared the Keilhau holiday, and what preceded and followed
it, we could not decide which was the most enjoyable.

Once our mother was present, though the cause of her coming was not
exactly a joyous one. About a week before the Christmas of my third year
at Keilhau I went to the hayloft at dusk, and while scuffling with a
companion the hay slipped with us and we both fell to the barn-floor. My
school-mate sustained an internal injury, while I escaped with the
fracture of two bones, fortunately only of the left arm. The severe
suffering which has darkened so large a portion of my life has been
attributed 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 the
Christmas pleasures was almost worse. But the experience that the days
from which we expect least often afford us most happiness was again
verified. Barop had thought it his duty to inform my mother of this
serious accident, and two or three days later she arrived. Though I could
not play out of doors with the others, there was enough to enjoy in the
house with her and some of my comrades.

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

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

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

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

Never did we leave our beds more quickly than in the darkness of that
early morning, illuminated as usual only by a tallow dip. Rarely was the
process of washing more speedily accomplished--in winter we were often
obliged to break a crust of ice which had formed over the water; but this
time haste was useless, for no one was admitted into the great hall
before the signal was given. At last it sounded, and when we had pressed
through the wide-open doors, what splendours greeted our enraptured eyes
and ears!

The whole room was most elaborately decorated with garlands of pine.
Wherever the light entered the windows we saw transparencies representing
biblical Christmas scenes. Christmas-trees--splendid firs of stately
height and size, which two days before were the ornaments of the
forest-glittered in the light of the candles, which was reflected from
the ruddy cheeks of the apples and the gilded and silvered nuts.
Meanwhile the air, "O night so calm, so holy!" floated from the
instruments of the musicians.

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

The devout, ennobling feelings which had inspired every heart were
scattered to the four winds; we dispersed like a flock of doves
threatened by a hawk, and the search for the places marked by a label
began.

One had already seen his name; a near-sighted fellow went searching from
table to table; and here and there one boy called to another to point out
what his sharp eyes had detected. On every table stood a Stolle, the
Saxon Christmas bread called in Keilhau Schuttchen, and a large plate of
nuts and cakes, the gift of the institute. Beside these, either on the
tables 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 it
afforded 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 hearts
had 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. It was
the hardest of the twelve months, for it carried us to Easter, the close
of the school year, and was interrupted only by the carnival with its
merry masquerade.

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

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

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 the
Konigstadt Theatre, and whose point was a jeer at the aspirations of the
revolution: "Property is theft, or a Dream of a Red Republican."

We were in the midst of the reaction and those who had fought at the
barricades on the 18th of March applauded when the couplet was sung, of
which 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 utter
indifference to us, and toward their close we usually paid a visit to my
grandmother and aunt in Dresden.

So the years passed till Easter (1852) came, and with it our confirmation
and my separation from Ludo, who was to follow a different career. We had
double instruction in confirmation, first with the village boys from the
pastor of Eichfeld, and afterwards from Middendorf at the institute.

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

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

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

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

But the old Lutzow Jager, who in the year 1813 had taken up arms at the
Berlin University, had also sat at the feet of Fichte, and therefore
crowned his system by declaring, like the latter, that religion was not
feeling but perception. Whoever attained this, arrived at a clear
understanding of his own ego (Middendorf's mental understanding of life),
perfect harmony with himself and the true sanctification of his soul.
This man who, according to our Middendorf, is the really religious human
being, will be in harmony with God and Nature, and find an answer to the
highest of all questions.

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

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

This natural, childlike old man never lectured; he was only a pedagogue
in the sense of the ancients--that is, a guide of boys. Though precepts
tinctured by philosophy mingled with his teachings, they only served as
points of departure for statements which came to him from the soul and
found 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 their
merits. I remember how warmly he praised Confucius's command not to love
our fellow-men but to respect them, and how sensible and beautiful it
seemed to me, too, in those days. He lingered longest on Buddhism; and it
surprises me now to discover how well, with the aids then at his command,
he understood the touching charity of Buddha and the deep wisdom and
grandeur of his doctrine.

But he showed us the other religions mainly to place Christianity and its
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 and
character, which he desired to imprint upon the soul. Whether he
succeeded in bringing us into complete "unity" with the personality of
Christ, to which he stood in such close relations, is doubtful, but he
certainly taught us to understand and love him; and this love, though I
have also listened to the views of those who attribute the creation and
life of the world to mechanical causes, and believe the Deity to be a
product of the human intellect, has never grown cold up to the present
day.

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 have added,
"and with a heart full of love"; for this was what distinguished him from
so many, what made him a Christian in the most beautiful sense of the
word, and he neglected nothing to render our young hearts an
abiding-place for this love.

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

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

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

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

I missed him everywhere. His greater discretion had kept me from many a
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 desirable
to young people, and for the first time I longed to go away, though I
knew nothing of my destination except that it would be a gymnasium.

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

The institute could not dismiss us as finished men; the desired "unity
with life" can be attained only upon its stage--the world--in the motley
throng of fellow-men, but minds and bodies were carefully trained
according to their individual peculiarities, and I might consider myself
capable of receiving higher lessons. True, my character was not yet
steeled sufficiently to resist every temptation, but I no longer need
fear 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 case
of every Keilhau boy, through our system of education.

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

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

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

I had by no means attained to union with God, but I had acquired the
ability and desire to recognize his government in Nature as well as in
life; for Middendorf had understood how to lead us into a genuine filial
relation with him and awaken in our young hearts love for him who kindles
in the hearts of men the pure flame of love for their neighbours.

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

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



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A word at the right time and place
Confucius's command not to love our fellow-men but to respect




THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GEORG EBERS

THE STORY OF MY LIFE FROM CHILDHOOD TO MANHOOD

Volume 5.




CHAPTER XVII.

THE GYMNASIUM AND THE FIRST PERIOD OF UNIVERSITY LIFE.

It was hard for me to leave Keilhau, but our trip to Rudolstadt, to which
my dearest companions accompanied me, was merry enough. With Barop's
permission we had a banquet in the peasant tavern there, whose cost was
defrayed by the kreutzers which had been paid as fines for offences
against table rules. At one of these tables where we larger boys sat,
only French was spoken; at another only the purest German; and we had
ourselves made the rule that whoever used a word of his native tongue at
one, or a foreign one at the other, should be fined a kreutzer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A visit to my grandmother in Dresden, and many pleasures which I was
permitted to share with my brothers and sisters, seemed to me like the
respite before execution.

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

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

He himself said that people in Pomerania believed that men with such
eyebrows stood in close relations to Satan. Once, while on his way in a
boat from Greifswald to the island of Rugen, the superstitious sailors
were on the point of throwing him overboard because they attributed their
peril to him as the child of the devil, yet, he added--and he was a
thoroughly truthful man--the power which these strange eyebrows gave him
over others, and especially over men of humble station, induced them to
release him.

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

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

This boyish prank is characteristic of our relations. If we did not go
too far, Frau Boltze always took our part, and understood how to smooth
her husband's frowning brow quickly enough. Besides, it was a real
pleasure to be on good terms with her, for, as the daughter of a
prominent official, she had had an excellent education, and her quick wit
did honour to her native city, Berlin.

Had Dr. Boltze performed his office of tutor with more energy, it would
have been better for us; but in other respects I can say of him nothing
but good.

The inventions he made in mechanics, I have been told by experts, were
very important for the times and deserved greater success. Among them was
a coach moved by electricity.

My mother and I were cordially welcomed by this couple, on conversing
with 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 prepared for
the first class; but Pro-Rector Braune, who examined me in Latin grammar,
said that I was fitted only for the second.

When I left the examination hall I was introduced by Dr. Boltze to one of
my future school-fellows in the person of an elegant young gentleman who
had just alighted from a carriage and was patting the necks of the horses
which he had driven himself.

I had supposed him to be a lieutenant in civilian's dress, for his dark
mustache, small whiskers, and the military cut of his hair, which already
began to be somewhat thin, made me add a lustrum to his twenty-one years.

After my new tutor had left us this strange school-fellow entered into
conversation with me very graciously, and after telling me many things
about the school and its management which seemed incredible, he passed on
to the pupils, among whom were some "nice fellows," and mentioned a
number of names, principally of noble families whose bearers had come
here to obtain the graduation certificate, the key without which so many
doors 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 consider
delightful or quite the contrary.

Of course, I kept my doubts to myself and joined in when he laughed; but
my heart was heavy. Could I avoid these companions? Yet I had come to be
industrious, prepare quickly for the university, and give my mother
pleasure.

Poor woman! She had made such careful inquiries before sending me here;
and what a dangerous soil for a precocious boy just entering the years of
youth was this manufacturing town and an institution so badly managed as
the Kottbus School! I had come hither full of beautiful ideals and
animated by the best intentions; but the very first day made me suspect
how many obstacles I should encounter; though I did not yet imagine the
perils which lay in my companion's words. All the young gentlemen who had
been drawn hither by the examination were sons of good families, but the
part which these pupils, and I with them, played in society, at balls,
and in all the amusements of the cultivated circle in the town was so
prominent, the views of life and habits which they brought with them so
completely contradicted the idea which every sensible person has of a
grammar-school boy, that their presence could not fail to injure the
school.

Of course, all this could not remain permanently concealed from the
higher authorities. The old head-master was suddenly retired, and one of
the best educators summoned in his place man who quickly succeeded in
making the decaying Kottbus School one of the most excellent in all
Prussia. I had the misfortune of being for more than two years a pupil
under the government of the first head-master, and the good luck of
spending nearly the same length of time under the charge of his
successor.

My mother was satisfied with the result of the examination, and the next
afternoon she drove with me to our relatives at Komptendorf. Frau von
Berndt, the youngest daughter of our beloved kinsman, Moritz von
Oppenfeld, united to the elegance of a woman reared in a large city the
cordiality of the mistress of a country home. Her husband won the entire
confidence of every one who met the gaze of his honest blue eyes. He had
given up the legal profession to take charge of his somewhat impoverished
paternal estate, and soon transformed it into one of the most 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. In
many 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 a
necessary evil. My real life commenced after its close, and here also my
natural cheerfulness ruled my whole nature. The town offered me few
attractions, but the country was full of pleasures. Unfortunately, I
could not go to Komptendorf as often as I wished, for it was a two hours'
walk, and horses and carriages were not always at my disposal. Yet many a
Saturday found me there, enjoying the delight of chatting with my kind
hostess about home news and other pleasant things, or reading aloud to
her.

Even in the second year of my stay at Kottbus I went to every dance given
on the estates in the neighbourhood and visited many a delightful home in
the town. Then there were long walks--sometimes with Dr. Boltze and my
school-mates, sometimes with friends, and often alone.

We frequently took a Sunday walk, which often began on Saturday
afternoon, usually with merry companions and in the society of our stern
master, who, gayer than the youngest of us, needed our care rather than
we his. In this way I visited the beautiful Muskau, and still more