On their way homeward, Flemming and the Baron passed through a narrow
lane, in which was a well-known Studenten-Kneipe. At the door stood a
young man, whom the Baron at once recognised as his friend Von Kleist.
He was a student; and universally acknowledged, among his young
acquaintance, as a "devilish handsome fellow"; notwithstanding a
tremendous scar on his cheek, and a cream-colored mustache, as soft as
the silk of Indian corn. In short he was a renowner, and a duellist.
"What are you doing here, Von Kleist?"
"Ah, my dear Baron! Is it you? Come in; come in. You shall see some
sport. A Fox-Commerce is on foot, and a regular Beer-Scandal."
"Shall we go in, Flemming?"
"Certainly. I should like to see how these things are managed in
Heidelberg. You are a Baron, and I am a stranger. It is of no
consequence what you and I do, as the king's fool Angeli said to the
poet Bautru, urging him to put on his hat at the royal dinner-table."
William Lilly, the Astrologer, says, in his Autobiography, that, when
he was committed to the guard-room in White Hall, he thought himself in
hell; for "some were sleeping, others swearing, others smoking tobacco;
and in the chimney of the room there were two bushels of broken
tobacco-pipes, and almost half a load of ashes." What he would have
thought if he had peeped into this Heidelberg Studenten-Kneipe, I know
not. He certainly would not have thought himself in heaven; unless it
were a Scandinavian heaven. The windows were open; and yet so dense was
the atmosphere with the smoke of tobacco, and the fumes of beer, that
the tallow candles burnt but dimly. A crowd of students were sitting at
three long tables, in the large hall; a medley of fellows, known at
German Universities under the cant names of Old-Ones, Mossy-Heads,
Princes of Twilight, and Pomatum-Stallions. They were smoking,
drinking, singing, screaming, and discussing the great Laws of the
Broad-Stone and the Gutter. They had a great deal to say, likewise,
about Besens, and Zobels, and Poussades; and, if they had been charged
for the noise they made, as travellers used to be, in the old Dutch
taverns, they would have had a longer bill to pay for that, than for
their beer.
In a large arm-chair, upon the middle table, sat one of those
distinguished individuals, known among German students as a Senior, or
Leader of a Landsmannschaft. He was booted and spurred, and wore a very
small crimson cap, and a very tight blue jacket, and very long hair,
and a very dirty shirt. He was President of the night; and, as Flemming
entered the hall with the Baron and his friend, striking upon the table
with a mighty broadsword, he cried in a loud voice;
"Silentium!"
At the same moment a door at the end of the hall was thrown open, and a
procession of newcomers, or Nasty-Foxes, as they are called in the
college dialect, entered two by two, looking wild, and green, and
foolish. As they came forward, they were obliged to pass under a pair
of naked swords, held cross-wise by two Old-Ones, who, with pieces of
burnt cork, made an enormous pair of mustaches, on the smooth, rosy
cheeks of each, as he passed beneath this arch of triumph. While the
procession was entering the hall, the President lifted up his voice
again, and began to sing the well-known Fox-song, in the chorus of
which all present joined lustily.
What comes there from the hill?
What comes there from the hill?
What comes there from the leathery hill?
Ha! Ha!
Leathery hill!
What comes there from the hill?
It is a postilion!
It is a postilion!
It is a leathery postilion!
Ha! Ha!
Postilion!
It is a postilion!
What brings the postilion?
What brings the postilion?
What brings the leathery postilion?
Ha! Ha!
Postilion!
What brings the postilion?
He bringeth us a Fox!
He bringeth us a Fox!
He bringeth us a leathery Fox!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery Fox!
He bringeth us a Fox!
Your servant, Masters mine!
Your servant, Masters mine!
Your servant, much-honored Masters mine!
Ha! Ha!
Much-honored Masters mine!
Your servant, Masters mine!
How does the Herr Papa?
How does the Herr Papa?
How does the leathery Herr Papa?
Ha! Ha!
Herr Papa!
How does the Herr Papa?
He reads in Cicero!
He reads in Cicero!
He reads in leathery Cicero!
Ha! Ha!
Cicero!
He reads in Cicero!
How does the Frau Mama?
How does the Frau Mama?
How does the leathery Frau Mama?
Ha! Ha!
Frau Mama!
How does the Frau Mama?
She makes the Papa tea!
She makes the Papa tea!
She makes the Papa leathery tea!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery tea!
She makes the Papa tea!
How does the Mamsell Sœur?
How does the Mamsell Sœur?
How does the leathery Mamsell Sœur?
Ha! Ha!
Mamsell Sœur!
How does the Mamsell Sœur?
She knits the Papa stockings!
She knits the Papa stockings!
She knits the Papa leathery stockings!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery stockings!
She knits the Papa stockings!
How does the Herr Rector?
How does the Herr Rector?
How does the leathery Herr Rector?
Ha! Ha!
Herr Rector!
How does the Herr Rector?
He calls the scholar, Boy!
He calls the scholar, Boy!
He calls the scholar, leathery Boy!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery Boy!
He calls the scholar, Boy!
And smokes the Fox tobacco?
And smokes the Fox tobacco?
And smokes the leathery Fox tobacco?
Ha! Ha!
Fox tobacco!
And smokes the Fox tobacco?
A little, Masters mine!
A little, Masters mine!
A little, much-honored Masters mine!
Ha! Ha!
Much-honored Masters mine!
A little, Masters mine!
Then let him fill a pipe!
Then let him fill a pipe!
Then let him fill a leathery pipe!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery pipe!
Then let him fill a pipe!
O Lord! It makes me sick!
O Lord! It makes him sick!
O Lord! It makes me leathery sick!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery sick!
O Lord! It makes me sick!
Then let him throw it off!
Then let him throw it off!
Then let him throw it leathery off!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery off!
Then let him throw it off!
Now I again am well!
Now he again is well!
Now I again am leathery well!
Ha! Ha!
Leathery well!
Now I again am well!
So grows the Fox a Bursch!
So grows the Fox a Bursch!
So grows the leathery Fox a Bursch!
Ha! Ha!
Fox a Bursch!
So grows the Fox a Bursch!
At length the song was finished. Meanwhile large tufts and strips of
paper had been twisted into the hair of the Branders, as those are
called who have been already one semestre at the University, and then
at a given signal were set on fire, and the Branders rode round the
table on sticks, amid roars of laughter. When this ceremony was
completed, the President rose from his chair, and in a solemn voice
pronounced a long discourse, in which old college jokes were mingled
with much parental advice to young men on entering life, and the whole
was profusely garnished with select passages from the Old Testament.
Then they all seated themselves at the table and the heavy
beer-drinking set in, as among the Gods and Heroes of the old Northern
mythology.
"Brander! Brander!" screamed a youth, whose face was hot and flushed
with supper and with beer; "Brander, I say? Thou art a Doctor! No,--a
Pope;--thou art a Pope, by--"
These words were addressed to a pale, quiet-looking person, who sat
opposite, and was busy in making a wretched, shaved poodle sit on his
hind legs in a chair, by his master's side, and hold a short clay pipe
in his mouth,--a performance to which the poodle seemed no wise
inclined.
"Thou art challenged!" replied the pale Student, turning from his dog,
who dropped the pipe from his mouth and leaped under the table.
Seconds were chosen on the spot; and the arms ordered; namely, six
mighty goblets, or Bassgläser, filled to the brim with foaming beer.
Three were placed before each duellist.
"Take your weapons!" cried one of the seconds, and each of the
combatants seized a goblet in his hand.
"Strike!"
And the glasses rang, with a salutation like the crossing of swords.
"Set to!"
Each set the goblet to his lips.
"Out!"
And each poured the contents down his throat, as if he were pouring
them through a tunnel into a beer-barrel. The other two glasses
followed in quick succession, hardly a long breath drawn between. The
pale Student was victorious. He was first to drain the third goblet. He
held it for a moment inverted, to let the last drops fall out, and then
placing it quietly on the table, looked his antagonist in the face, and
said;
"Hit!"
Then, with the greatest coolness, he looked under the table and
whistled for his dog. His antagonist stopped midway in his third glass.
Every vein in his forehead seemed bursting; his eyes were wild and
bloodshot, his hand gradually loosened its hold upon the table, and he
sank and rolled together like a sheet of lead. He was drunk.
At this moment a majestic figure came stalking down the table,
ghost-like, through the dim, smoky atmosphere. His coat was off, his
neck bare, his hair wild, his eyes wide open, and looking right before
him, as if he saw some beckoning hand in the air, that others could not
see. His left hand was upon his hip, and in his right he held a drawn
sword extended, and pointing downward. Regardless of every one, erect,
and with a martial stride he marched directly along the centre of the
table, crushing glasses and overthrowing bottles at everystep. The
students shrunk back at his approach; till at length one more drunk, or
more courageous, than the rest, dashed a glass full of beer into his
face. A general tumult ensued, and the student with the sword leaped to
the floor. It was Von Kleist. He was renowning it. In the midst of the
uproar could be distinguished the offensive words;
"Arrogant! Absurd! Impertinent! Dummer Junge!"
Von Kleist went home that night with no less than six duels on his
hands. He fought them all out in as many days; and came off with only a
gash through his upper lip and another through his right eyelid from a
dexterous Suabian Schlaeger.