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tering, and the impression which they leave on readers of their accounts is that they are a wild, lawless, drunken, fighting, and hectoring class, of little gentlemanly bearing, and of savage habits and dispositions. A more charitable and thoroughly German-tinctured account of German student life has been given by William Howitt, who lived some years amongst them, and appears to have availed himself of the excellent German authorities he had occasion to meet with. It would be useless to deny that the customs of drinking and duel-fighting are some of the dark sides of the German universities, and we can only wish that, fast disappearing as they are, they may soon quite cease to disgrace those establishments. It is unjust, however, in criticising a class of men, to turn one's eyes merely at one or two topics, and we ought rather to attempt to form a more general estimation of their merits and pervading tone.

It is true, the life of a German student is one of enjoyment as well as of study. They hear their lectures, and ponder over them at home; they read books on the objects and questions that interest them most; they consult their professors; they form little clubs or societies for discussions, and stoutly maintain their individual opinions against their professors or against each other. But these pursuits are not the only thing that occupies their minds. Youth claims its rights; and as the German student is free of superintendence on every side, he allows fair play to his favourite propensities. It cannot be astonishing that their exuberant spirits should have a peculiar national turn which does not coincide with the habits of students of other countries. A German student does not feather his oar in a university-boat on regatta-day; he does not kick the foot-ball on Parker's piece; he does not skilfully take the balls at a cricketmatch. These gentle pastimes would not satisfy his bolder and noisier disposition. His thoughts are more excitable and somewhat enthusiastic. His manners are more cordial and unreserved. His appearance and demeanour are less aristocratic. Yet he is well-bred, and spirited, and highminded; he is frank and open; a faithful friend, and an eccentric lover of his fatherland. He is a sworn enemy to all falsehood and all deceit.

VOL. XLVI.-NO. CCLXXI.

Peculiar notions of honour, and a deep love of independence and liberty, belong to his most deep-rooted principles. Song and music, social parties, convivial fêtes, a martial, undaunted spirit, and excitement of the patriotic feelings, throw over his life an enchantment which gilds it yet in all his later recollections.

Each student lives in apartments hired at some townsman's house, according to his choice and particular requirements. From thence he resorts to the University only for three or four hours daily, to attend lectures. The rest of his time is either spent at home in reading, or else with his comrades. The absence of a link of union among the members of German universities, has compelled the students almost everywhere to form certain clubs or clans, the sole object of which is to enjoy themselves together, after true students' fashion. These fraternities wear their own peculiar colours on their caps, flags, and breastbands; they are organised with seniors, presidents, articles of comment or students' usage, and meet at their parti cular inns and on especial days of every week. There you may see them, sitting together around two oblong tables, before their beer or wine-goblets, drinking and singing till late into the night, and often hidden in thick clouds of tobacco-smoke. They will discuss the duels that have been fought lately, or are going to be fought; they will scheme some joke upon a sordid Philistine or landlord; they will agree to bring a serenade to their favourite professor; they make their political speeches on the prospects of their fatherland, and the whims of its princes; they drink and sing, and sing and drink, whilst wit and sarcasm, pun and taunt, fly across the room in quick succession, and all is dissolved in infinite laughter and merriment.

Many of the students are fond of gymnastics, or Turnen. They spend accordingly much of their time upon excursions and exercises for that purpose, and form associations which are called Turner- Vereine.

But by far the majority of Burschen delight in fencing and the practice of arms. This would certainly be very harmless and praiseworthy, if it did not induce them to try their swords and rapiers in actual contest upon each other. But such is still the case to a

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great extent at almost all the German Universities, and especially among the members of the above-mentioned fraternities. The facility with which some German students come from a pugnacious disposition to offensive words, and from offences to challenges, will always appear equally extraordinary and lamentable to an observer. There are amongst them a number of braggadocios, eager to test their skill and the metal of their swords, and glad to pick a quarrel with any one to whom they are just in the humour for addressing their pert provocations. It is to this spirit that most duels must be traced; and they have not always even the excuse of personal antipathy, or difference of opinion, or a previous quarrel, or a miscarried joke, or some public or private insult that might have set the parties at war. For a few hasty words, satisfaction with arms is desired and promised; cards are exchanged, seconds chosen, the cartel solemnly declared, and time, place, and weapon agreed upon. After a delay of some days or weeks, which are conscientiously made use of for practising at the noble art, the parties repair, early on the appointed morning, with their friends, to the place of rendezvous, on some neighbouring heath. An umpire and a medical student must always be present. Arrived on the ground, they fix the spot and distance for the fight, mark the mensura or circles within which the combatants must keep, strip the upper part of their body, and, after close examination of the weapons, the sanguinary contest begins. The umpire holds his rapier steadfastly between them, in order to stop them at the first wound that is inflicted, and to prevent foul play. Thus the two antagonists may stand, parrying and returning each other's thrusts for some minutes, until at length their vigour relaxes. Now comes the moment for the decisive blow. The contest becomes more desperate, and the swords glance almost invisibly, whilst the shouting of the anxious friends mingles with the rapid clash of the rapiers. Suddenly the umpire shouts-Sitzt, one of the two is hit; blood has been drawn and the duel is over. And, whilst the medical

student advances to attend to the wound, the umpire summons the two antagonists to shake hands and to promise that they will consider the offence

as forgotten and as expiated, and that they will neither bear one another any grudge from it, nor allow any infor mation of the occurrence to spread. This is vowed, as throughout transactions of this nature a certain chivalrous air and appearance of good grace is preserved. Thus the mischief which duels cause consists fortunately in little beyond disfiguring the face by swordcuts, as lives are but seldom or never set at stake. Yet we have no desire of cloaking the savage and barbarous nature of a custom which is so utterly repugnant to all the humane feelings. The governments and college authorities have long since proscribed and forbidden duelling; but of late even the students of Berlin, Bonn, and Breslau have themselves made efforts to prevent and eradicate them entirely, by the erection of a students' jury (Ehrengerichte), before which quarrels may be settled peacefully.

The students' associations have always been suspected, and repeatedly dissolved by the governments; for these self-constituted clubs continually fostered a feeling of political dissatisfaction, and were sometimes decried as the haunts and refuge of secret conspiracies. It was under similar pretences that the general Burschenshaft was dissolved, after the murder of Kotzebue by a young enthusiast of the name of Sand.

The principal reason, however, why the ancient student-associations are dying away, is not so much the order of the authorities, but is due to the existence of a strong feeling against them amongst the majority of the present German academicians. The traditional Burschen- Comment, with all its rude and ludicrous appendages, begins to fall into utter disrespect, and is looked upon as antiquated, useless rubbish, or as toys for insipid freshmen. The actual generation of Burschen is a more refined class of men; they have exchanged the gauntlet for a pair of kids, the cap of the corps (or association) for a common chapeau, the sword or rapier for a riding-whip or a walking-stick; and it has almost ceased to be considered as a merit to provoke duels, to besot oneself with beer, wine, and tobacco; or to go swaggering along the street with a professed view to annoy cach Philistine, beadle, or night-guard, who may come in their way. The old customs are

only practised on the sly, and are carefully hidden from the eyes of the world, instead of parading in public as formerly; even the old slang is hardly ever used or referred to, without provoking a smile on every countenance. Nor is it likely that the sober, reflecting, and assiduous nature of the German students should make no reaction against the crude and boisterous tone of some of their comrades. It is in general but the smaller Universities which take delight in them, in order to bring some change into the uniformity of continual study in their rural towns. In Berlin and Vienna little of the old students' habits is to be met with.

The predominating spirit of the larger German Universities bears of late reference rather to the political struggles of the country. It is certainly not the business of young men, nor of learned schools, to fight the battles of their fatherland, nor to discuss what laws and constitution they will establish. But it was to be expected that the Universities, which hold in Germany such a pre-eminent rank, should have also taken a leading part in the present aspirations of Germany after constitutional liberty. The academicians of Vienna and Berlin have made themselves the avowed champions of popular reform; and if freedom has yet hardly begun to shed her beneficent lustre over the middle of Europe, it is certainly not owing to a lack of patriotism and enthusiasm among the youth of the German high schools. The force and generality of the liberal sympathies among them is the most evident proof that, in the following decennium, when the generation of young men who frequented those schools in 1848 and 1849, will have succeeded to the offices and administration of the German States, that country must, by internal necessity, give way to the demands for liberty. It is sincerely to be wished that Heaven may grant to Germany a peaceful and steady solution of her internal difficulties, and that her Universities may unite moderation with firmness, in the open and untiring pursuit of free institutions.

In conclusion, it may be useful to

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recapitulate the main outlines of the picture, so as to leave a distincter impression of them as a whole. The German Universities, which have many defects among much that is good, bear distinct traces and marks of the soil on which they are planted. They stand under the control of more or less arbitrary governments, and are to them the instruments for educating a supply of officers and professional employés, which those bureaucratical States require in order to be governed. But the Universities fulfil their task not in a little or slavish manner. pre-eminently national institutions, they uphold the principle of universal admissibility, and exclude doctrine, no creed or nationality from teaching or learning among them. They pursue an independent system of instrution which scorns any but scientific authority; they omit all mercenary means of stimulation, and expect their adepts to cultivate science purely for its own sake. They have sacrificed all the practical business of education, because superintendence is thought at once contrary to their constitution, and unsuitable to their students, who are expected to educate themselves. Assiduity and enthusiasm form the leading features of the youth who frequent them, and which, in spite of some habitual excrescences, are still found amongst them; they yield to Germany and to Europe a number of profound scholars, divines, and philosophers, who unite a closelooking, microscopic understanding with a wide and gigantic grasp of intellect. Situated in the heart and centre of Europe, visited by strangers from all quarters of the globe, the German Universities have acquired a far-spreading influence on the world of letters, both by their position, and by the nature of their intellectual stores. They stand as the strongholds of modern European intelligence, and form the safest and firmest anchors of general civilisation and knowledge. May they remain true to their trust, may they prosper and flourish, and never cease to infuse wisdom and learning into the generations that annually gather around them!

ALBERICO PORRO; A TALE OF THE MILANESE REVOLUTION OF 1848.

BY AN OFFICER OF THE SARDINIAN SERVICE.

CHAPTER I.-THE FIRST IMPULSE.

"Weep on, weep on-your hour is past,
Your dreams of pride are o'er;
The fatal chain is round you cast,
And you are men no more."-MOORE.

ITALY! what a thousand associations does not thy name recal? Vases filled with flowers of beauty strew the path of childhood, offering to the memory of the exile, pain and joy, sorrow and love, all blended together in links never to be forgotten! In thee the poor exile, casting his longing glance from afar, beholds his country-his heart's centre-his beam of future happiness; and thy name cannot be uttered by the stranger without recalling (how vividly!) the sufferings and struggles untold, he has risked, and is still willing to risk, for thy redemptiou. Thy glories of past days, when proud of thy might, and the love of thy sons, thou stoodest forth the mighty mistress of the world, the protectress of thy weaker neighbour, and the arbitress of all around thee.-Those glories are still enwrapt within our minds - still cherished within our hearts' core, and tend, while raising our pride, but to call forth our emulation to rival and excel thy antiquity. Even in thy fallen greatness there is a nameless charm to us surpassingly beautiful; for not a monument can the eye gaze upon, not a tesselated tower deck thy horizon, but each speaks of its legends of its heroes, once treading there of the perishable of all around. History, as if in pity to man's weak. ness, embalms his future greatness, and leaves behind a record for future ages to emulate the virtues and avoid the guilt.

Our tale opens in the latter end of the year 1847. Autumn had laid his brown hand on the face of nature, scattering with impunity the green verdure, and leaving behind, on every side, sad memorials of the approach of stern winter. But with it there still lingered a beauty and fascination, neither season nor the destruction of time could possibly erase, and which has given to that fairy clime the proud title of the Garden of Europe. În the

distance was seen the city of Padua the learned, the birth-place of the immortal Livy, on whose gorgeous buildings glittered the last rays of the setting sun. Around, stretching far and wide, lay the fair plains of Lombardy, decked with its vineyards, its hills, and its rivulets, which, meandering through wood, and dale, and field, presenting to the gaze beauties scarcely to be described. Here and there, dotting the distant landscape, rose the country dwelling of some signor, from whose gardens numerous plants and flowers yet shed their odour around; whilst from tree to tree was heard the plaintive warble of the bird, as if lamenting the departure of summer.

It was on such an evening as this, along a road leading to Padua was seen a carriage, led by two weary horses, toiling up a steep and difficult hill. A little before it, arrayed in travelling dress, were two persons walking quietly along, seemingly the owners of the carriage which slowly followed them, carefully conducted by a postilion and a servant in livery. Disliking both postilions and lackeys from some uncontrollable recollection of having suffered at their hands, we shall pass over them, to observe more attentively the appearance of their masters.

Both of the persons whom we have first mentioned were evidently, from their dress and looks, parties belonging to the best grade of society. Both of them were young; yet it could be easily seen there was a difference of some eight or ten years in their respective ages. The elder of the two was a man of about twentyseven or thirty years of age, of a middle stature, with fine, bold and powerful features. His countenance told that with him to resolve was to do; but whether his resolutions were always wise and good was much to be doubted - for, by the eager and vehement

manner in which he spoke, passion, it could be seen, and not reason, would often guide his decision; yet if some strong motive acted as an incentive, by the powerful effort of a ready mind he could so control his temper as to exactly suit his purpose; and his most intimate associates could scarcely tell, while honeyed and flowery words issued from his lips, that there was a storm of passion lying in his heart, which, if given loose to, would have swept both thought and reason away. Kind he could be, when that kindness did not interfere with any settled plan of his own; and even generous, when his heart took a liking; but if any obstacle stood in the way of his accomplishing his end, or any person opposed his interests, nothing could trol the vindictive feeling he felt, or the eagerness with which he pursued his hatred, until all opposition was overcome, and his object attained. Such was the Baron Pinaldi.

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The other was a young man over whom twenty summers had scarcely sped. His countenance was of that light, open, and joyous appearance, with a gay, laughing eye, sparkling with hope and pleasure, which easily told the observer that sorrow had not yet placed its hand there, to dim a heart yet full of the freshness of confiding youth. His hair, of a dark-brownish colour, fell in long profusion from under a cap, usually worn by the students of the Paduan Universities: and as he walked beside his companion with a free and careless step, his eye roving over the beauties of his native soil, he seemed the reflection of his own pure atmosphere-all smiles, and truth, and beauty. Of a tall stature, with well-proportioned limbs, capable of doing good strong manual exercise, the reader has before him the portrait of Alberico Porro, the heir to a long line of princely ancestors.

"Caro Porro," exclaimed the elder of the two, as if continuing a conversation, "I do entreat you not to be wandering further in your travels. Look on this noble landscape, teeming with every richness the eye can conceive or the heart can feel, full of a thousand allurements and pleasures, and say, if in all your journeys, extended as they have been to Spain, Italy's rival to Greece, the seat of the exploits of a Leonidas- whether you have felt the same sensations, the same

feelings as whilst gazing on what is before you? I know with your heart it must have been impossible to do so; for on the ground you tread, on every plant you pass, on every breeze wafted towards you, there is a voice-a silent one, I admit-speaking to your mind, this is your own, your native land!"

"But why this long lecture, Signor Barrone. If my fancy does choose to rove, am I not free to go and come? What tie is there that should bind me eternally to one spot, when clime after clime beckons me to explore their curiosities? I am not like my good old father's steward, Giacomo, who the more and more he gazes on his household gods, the more he wishes to gaze. Give me the wide world to traverse, the reins of a noble horse in one hand, and a golden purse in the other," answered his companion with a gay laugh.

"My dear friend, to you who are thus young, who have never given, perhaps, a second thought to any serious subject

"There you are mistaken, carissimo, for it cost me many a passing sigh to bring my own dear self back to my father's halls-to leave behind all those joyous spirits free as air, who smoke, drink, and make love at the Ecoles de Paris, twenty-three hours out of twenty-four-leaving the other, I know not whether right, to pore over their dry and prosy studies."

"Well, well, Porro, be it as you say, for I believe I did you wrong in hazarding such an accusation; but you must admit, few would think a spirit so light and gay as yours, rambling from place to place, as if its restingspot could never be found, would think a serious question could occupy your mind for a quarter of an hour's consideration. It is only those who have watched you for years past, who have continually mingled in your society, would dream you could so bend yourself, as when any particular study has seized your imagination, you have never rested till you have mastered the subject, and astonished your friends at the rapidity with which you have outdone all others who have attempted the same task conjointly with you. In you, Porro for me your gay heartiness cannot deceive- there are the materials that should be bent to a far nobler study than any you have hitherto pursued, and which, if pursued with a

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