The Student-Life of Germany

by William Howitt

STORY OF THE BLACK PETER.

Mr. Traveller, the turn now comes to you to relate something; but it really is a difficult task for you to have to relate something which is connected with Heidelberg.

Mr. Traveller.--Luckily I have recently heard the history of the life of a student, who formerly studied here, and I think it is sufficiently interesting;--I shall, therefore, relate as much of it as I recollect.

Some twenty or thirty years ago, a young man came to Heidelburg, whose name was Schwartzkopf, a native of Fulda in Hesse. His father had been an officer in the Hessian service, but he died early, and his widow was compelled to straiten herself severely, in order to be able to educate her only son out of the proceeds of her small property, and still smaller pension. Nature had made amends to the son of the widow for his poverty by many fine endowments of person and mind, and proudly gazed the affectionate mother on her darling son, as with little solid cash, but on that account with the more well-intended exhortations, and with many tears, she dismissed him on his journey to the university. Many were the anxieties that filled her mind when she thought that her son indeed possessed a good heart, but was still very giddy and of easily persuaded mind. He, with joyful spirits, and full of good resolves, proceeded to his new place of residence. He studied the greater part of the first year with zeal, and he wanted not good friends with whom he could spend his hours of the Muses in the most agreeable manner. His evil angel then caused him to be involved in a duel, and on this occasion he made some acquaintances that were of disastrous influence to him. Through them he became acquainted with play, to which he soon gave himself up passionately. It is true that at first he played only in his leisure hours, when his old friends were not about him; but he soon came to neglect these, and his leisure hours soon became continually less and less able to satisfy his desire for play, and then his studies were sacrificed. His friends grew tedious to him, because they had other interests; his books were covered with thick dust; and if he sometimes attended the lectures, they showed only how far he had fallen behind in the race of knowledge, and he hastened in vexation to the kneip, in order to drown in beer and play the upbraidings of his conscience. Thus he continued to live on for a long time; he returned to his room only to pass the night, even not that always. In the morning he fled from it as early as possible, because all there looked desolate. His books were at length sold, and by degrees he had disposed of every thing to the Jews, except the wretched clothes on his back, in order to feed his unhappy passion. Many a time would he fall into a horror, when he awoke out of a dream, which had carried him back into his early life, and saw around him that empty room, or when he received a letter from his affectionate mother, which was full of tender warnings,--from his mother, who denied herself even the most necessary things, that he might not want that money which he thus consumed on his ruinous habits. But these terrible reflections drove him only for a brief space out of his wild life, for he was already too deep sunk in it, and felt no longer the strength necessary to work himself out of the gulf.

It was then that he one day received a letter addressed by a strange hand, and sealed with black. His mother was dead, and the letter was from his guardian. Far as Schwartzkopf was already fallen, yet this letter deeply shook him; it embittered the melancholy intelligence beyond words, since his guardian, a severe man, wrote him, that he had driven not a few nails into his mother's coffin; that he had wasted his property; that he should immediately return home, in order to be made acquainted with the real state of his affairs, which left him little other alternative than that of becoming a soldier in the ranks. His state of mind for the first few days was horrible, and he was at the very point of self-destruction; but this went by, and he concluded, after more quiet reflection, that it was the best to turn his footsteps homewards, in order, if possible, to move his guardian to more moderate measures, or, came it to the worst, to enlist into the army. His debts were paid, and he put up the slender remains of his possessions in his knapsack, with which, early one morning, he passed through the gate leading towards Frankfort.

In the evening of the second day he had arrived in a great wood, which extended towards Fulda. The forest seemed to stretch itself out endlessly before him. It was already nearly dark; and a violent wind against which he had to labour, bent the tall and gloomy pines, which groaned awfully. Full of melancholy he wandered forward; the memory of the past came over him with subduing power; and he almost wished that one of the mighty trees might be dashed down by the tempest, and bury him in its fall. He began to sing a song, in order to chase away those painful thoughts,--when, as he turned an angle of the path, a rough voice cried "Halt!" and at once three men sprung out of the bush. The coarse hunting-garb, the pistols and hangers with which they were armed, and the disguised faces, left him in no doubt that they were some of the gang that kept that part of the country in disquiet.

The student feared them not; fear had never been any part of his nature, and least of all now, when life to him was made indifferent by despair.

"Leave me alone," said he, "I have nothing for you."

"But with your permission," said one of the robbers, "we will make a rather nearer acquaintance with your knapsack."

"With all my heart," answered the student quietly, handing over to them the knapsack, at the same time that he filled his pipe, and asked one of them for a light, as he had himself lost his fire-apparatus. He seated himself to rest on a block of stone by the side of the road, and requested the robbers not to detain him too long, as he had yet far to go to his night's quarters. They could not refrain from a laugh at the sang froid of the student.

"You seem to me sad fellows," said Schwartzkopf, "that you don't understand your business better; at thirty paces distance you might have seen very well, that you would get nothing, from me."

"Be silent, hound!" cried one of them, "or in a moment we will cut thy throat."

"And a right noble deed too," added the student, "for three men to cut the throat of one. If you were not miserable Philistines, I should be obliged to call upon one of you to give satisfaction for that word, hound!"

"By all the devils, he is right, Heiner," said another; "he has a right to it, since he has shown himself so brave, and as there is nothing in the knapsack, except a few miserable articles of covering."

"Does the fellow think I'm afraid of him?" cried Heiner.

"Ay, to be sure I do," said the student, quietly smoking on. The robber was raging, and demanded on the instant to fight the audacious student; but his comrades disapproved of it. It was too dangerous an undertaking to decide this affair on the highway. They proposed to adjourn to their encampment; and offered in a manner friendly enough to the student, if he were not killed in the combat, to give him quarters for the night. He was obliged to content himself with the matter, and so they put themselves in motion. They went on long, still deeper and deeper into the thick of the wood, and on the way made inquiries from the student, whom they watched pretty well, as to the circumstances of his life; which he related to them truly.

At length they came to an open place in the forest. Here the surrounding hills formed a sort of basin, which on the one side was shielded from the wind by a pile of rocks, and on the other by a screen of stupendous trees. A little spring gushing out from the foot of the rocks, wound itself through the carpet of grass, upon which the robber-troop, consisting of about twenty men with their wives and children, had built some huts. The sentinels on the outposts had first announced their approach, and they were speedily surrounded by the troop. When they learned the intention of Heiner and the student, they gave it their hearty applause; and as soon as all had refreshed themselves with food and drink, a battle-ground was selected; Schwartzkopf received a hanger, and the robbers formed a circle round the combatants. The women kindled great pine-torches, in order properly to light up the scene.

The robber fiercely attacked his opponent; and the whole scene had a singular aspect. The powerfully built figures of the men, whose bold features yet more strongly stood forth in the light of the torches, as they, smoking their short pipes, looked on the strife, full of expectation of its issue; and the women dispersed amongst them in singular and various attire, which they had selected for themselves out of the plundered stores. All watched the fight in deep silence; which was only broken by the clattering of the swords, the dashing of the water, and the rush of the winds as they raged through the woods. The student, by far superior to his antagonist in skill of fence, parried with the utmost coolness, quietly meeting with his sword every blow of his opponent; but as the robber began to press upon him closer and closer in a furious attack, he suddenly struck in before the stroke of his adversary, and in the same instant the robber let his sword drop, and the blood spouted hotly from the arm-wound through his sleeve.

The men had seen the contest with astonishment; the arm of the wounded robber was bound up, and the rest of them gathered together in a group in earnest consultation. The student continued standing alone, doubtful whether he should make an attempt at escape, or should wait the upshot of the consultation, which might be fatal to him. He concluded to wait.

A robber now stepped up to him, and said, "Our captain fell in a skirmish a few days ago. We have all seen, with admiration, your perfect coolness, your courage, and your swordsmanship; when you arrive at home little good awaits you; remain with us, and be our captain, and so will you find a better life than amongst those miserable soldiers." Schwartzkopf hesitated only a short time. He weighed the attraction of the proposal against the life which he had otherwise before him. He reflected how dangerous it would be to refuse; and if scruples arose in his mind, he silenced them again by the thought that he could again give up this life when he pleased. After a short rumination, he gave his pledge of adhesion and fidelity to the robbers. The intelligence spread itself with rapidity through the whole robber troop; the wives brought wine-cups, and all drank to the health and prosperity of the new captain. They caroused till deep in the night, and drank brotherhood to Schwartzkopf, who, under the name of Black Peter, was speedily known and feared through the whole country round.

About half a year from this event had flown away. The complaints of the country people in the neighbourhood of Fulda, of the oppressions of the robber band, had ceased. But from time to time it undertook greater exploits, with such calculation and astonishing boldness, as testified the new spirit that was come amongst them since they were led by the Black Peter. The real name of Peter Schwartzkopf, from which this was derived, was not recognised. The former student, of whom people had so often read in the newspapers, was believed to be dead, or to have fallen into the hands of the recruiting officer, and to serve in foreign lands. The captain, however, was known as the Black Peter, from two other causes. He always wore a black mask; and he had never been seen otherwise than riding on a black horse. The inquietudes of the war had hitherto made impossible any earnest attempt to put down those disturbers of the public security; and this was rendered the more difficult as the band never lingered long in one and the same place, but, immediately after the perpetration of some bold deed, vanished from their haunt, and exchanged it for the Bergstrasse, or the country of the Main.

Already the storm of war had retired many weeks from the neighbourhood of Fulda, and the robber band appeared also to have left the country, perhaps out of fear of a more vehement pursuit. The inhabitants of the little city of Schlüchten rejoiced themselves in the prospect of the enjoyment of a more refreshing rest than they had for a long time been favoured with.

One afternoon a heavily loaded travelling-carriage rolled slowly into the city, and aroused universal attention as it drew up before the Gasthaus Zum-Stern. A swarm of lounging Bauers collected about it, and out of every window peered curious countenances. But how much greater was the astonishment as the people learned from the coachman and valet, who, both of them clad in military costume, looked, in their mustaches, most formidable fellows, that their master, a Graf of high standing, had been attacked on the way by robbers, and now lay severely wounded in the carriage; and that they only owed their escape and life to the fortunate interposition of a patrol party belonging to the Graf's own regiment.

At this intelligence the whole city was thrown into an uproar, and not the least the landlord of the Star, who with his loud and eager orders for the proper care of the noble gentleman, made the heads of all his people dizzy. The stranger Graf was finally lifted out of the carriage by his servants, aided by some of the others. He was a tall, stately man, pale with the loss of blood; his eyes were closed, and many deep wounds in the head were only rudely and hastily bound up. While he was carried to his bed and given into the care of the surgeon, who was called in, the Amtmann was hastily sent for; and, from the statements of the coachman, who caused at the same time his own arm-wounds to be bound up, dictated to his clerk a long protocol. The whole police corps, with an addition of some armed Bauers, immediately set out in pursuit of the robbers, without, however, being able to discover the least trace of them.

In the meantime the stranger lay in the most frightful delirium. The servants forbade any one, besides the surgeon, from entering the room; such, they said, being the orders of their lord. The surgeon wondered sometimes at the fearful phantoms that haunted the imagination of the strange nobleman, which the servants calmly remarked proceeded entirely from the last battle, and from the attack of the robbers.

For some days the Graf hovered between life and death, but shortly a decided improvement manifested itself in him; and after many weeks he was so far recovered, as to be able to receive the visits of the first people of the place, who anxiously desired to make the acquaintance of so distinguished a personage; and indeed, shortly afterwards, to return them. He styled himself Graf Pappenheim; gave out that he was a native of the north of Germany, and had quitted his regiment on account of a difference with his superior officer, and was about to retire to his estate. He possessed a great partiality for Hesse, as his mother was a native of that state, whence he himself had a Hessian accent in his speech, which was strong enough to strike the ear of the people. In short, the Graf was a most genteel man in society, had the most agreeable manners, and was soon a favourite in all the circles of the little city. When the Bauers had at first seen the many heavy chests of the stranger, they said, "he is a rich man, the Graf;" and said they again, with one accord, as they saw him first ride out on a black horse, purchased of the Chief Forest-master, "he is a very handsome man, the Graf."

The Graf brought a new life into the little city; he was the soul of all companies, and himself gave the finest entertainments in the Star; in short, he had always something new with which to entertain society. He treated every one with the most condescending courtesy, but above all the lovely daughter of the Chief Forest-master, who was not a little envied on that account by the other ladies. As it now one day became known that the Graf had proposed for the Forester's lovely daughter, and contemplated buying an estate for himself in the neighbourhood for his future abode, many of the young ladies made truly a sour face; but all said, "We have long thought that," and hastened to present to the young lady their congratulations.

The marriage was immediately afterwards celebrated at the new castle of the Graf, with the greatest eclat. About five miles from the city lay, in the midst of a wood--a former hunting castle of the prince--a wide-stretching building. This the Graf had recently purchased. The Chief Forest-master thought indeed the castle much too solitary, and of too great an extent; but his son-in-law quieted him on that head, with the prospect of the noble hunting which they could here enjoy together. That the carriage was always at the command of his wife, and he hoped constantly to have company from the city with him. The extensive accommodation was, moreover, very convenient to him, as, on account of the not yet perfectly restored security of the country, he should send home for the greater part of his servants to attend him here. And it was not long, in fact, before the rooms of the castle were filled with about a score of fresh servants. They were altogether strong, wild-looking fellows; and the Graf said that he had selected these expressly, because people yet, here and there, talked of the robber band; and it was possible that they might some day attempt an attack on his house or property. It was the more necessary for him to do this, as he was himself a restless spirit, and could not live without now and then making a little expedition. But this he could not do unless he felt at the same time that he left his house in perfect security.

The people in the city considered this all very reasonable, and conceived a still greater opinion of the affluence of the Graf, who was able to maintain so great an establishment. The Forest-master's daughter lived with her husband in the happiest manner; and when he sometimes, accompanied by some of his servants, made a little excursion into the country round, she invited always some of her friends from the city, and never sent them back without the most beautiful gifts. The Gräfin, indeed, wondered with herself, that her husband, who otherwise gratified all her desires the moment they were uttered, never took her with him on these little excursions; but she loved him too well to chagrin him by pressing entreaties. The winter was now come, and yet the excursions of the Graf did not cease. They were it is true, more seldom, but they often stretched themselves into weeks; and the young wife frequently felt herself excessively solitary when she, with her maid, the only other female who was in the castle, sate in the large room, and the wind without shook the naked branches of the trees fearfully.

During this period the vicinity was not at all disturbed by the robber band, notwithstanding the repeated accounts of housebreaking and highway robberies in the countries of the Main and the Neckar. The Graf seemed almost totally at ease on that subject, for he often took with him all the servants, with the exception of two or three, in his journeys. The young wife made many reflections on this strange conduct of her husband, who always so suddenly resolved on these marches; yes, sometimes even was awoke by a servant in the night, and at once went forth numerously accompanied. It also struck her that many of the presents which he brought her were clearly not new; and if she asked him the cause of it, he told her that they had been sent for by him from his native seat, and that he had been in a neighbouring city to fetch them.

In that part of the castle in which the servants resided, was a room which was always closed to the women, as there, the Graf said, were preserved family documents of the highest importance, to which none but himself must have access. Strange did it seem when Lisette, the chambermaid, asserted to her lady, that she had often seen one of the servants in that room with her lord; and the Gräfin was equally annoyed at the familiarity between master and servants, when the Graf, till late in the night, in one of the rooms appertaining to the servants, was accustomed to talk and drink with them. "They are true souls," said he, "who have been brought up with me, and I must be good to them, as I have caused them to come into a country so strange to them."

All this, and the relations of Lisette, who, amongst other things, asserted that she had seen the Graf, on his entering the house, take off a black mask, disturbed the poor lady in the highest degree, and she resolved at last to throw light on the mystery, let it cost what it would, but till then to conceal her anxiety from her relations.

One evening, as she heard the Graf and his followers come riding in, she hastened quickly into the neighbourhood of the suspected room, into which her husband was accustomed always to go first, and concealed herself in an unused fireplace. With beating heart she saw the Graf enter with two servants. With light steps she approached the mysterious door and listened. What she then heard was sufficient to inform her of her dreadful fate. The Graf, and the notorious robber-captain, the Black Peter, were one and the same person. Near to fainting, the unhappy wife glided away to her own room. Soon after the Graf appeared, and expressed his regret that, on account of family intelligence which he had received, he must yet ride out again this night, but would be back by break of day.

Scarcely had the Graf and his troop ridden away, when the poor wife called her maid, communicated to her the dreadful truth, and both determined on instant flight. They left the lights burning in the chamber, and stole silently down into a room below. Happily the one robber whom they had left behind, was yet within the mysterious chamber. They escaped through the window, and made directly for the nearest way to the Forest-master's house. Like two alarmed roes they hastened on through the night, and often shrunk together when the moon lighted up a distant tree, so that they fancied one of the robbers stood behind it. Continually looking round to see that no one was pursuing them, they at length came distantly into view of the Forest-master's house. Their anguish became almost insupportable when so near the goal; they thought to themselves they might yet be overtaken. At last they reached the house, full of joy that they yet saw a light in the room of the Chief Forest-master. He rose up in amaze, when he heard a knocking at so late an hour; but how much greater was his astonishment as his daughter flew to him, and sunk breathless in his arms.

As soon as the old man was able from his exhausted daughter to learn the cause of her thus wandering in the night, his wrath burnt fiercely at the false son-in-law. He called up his huntsmen: the Bauers in the little city were armed, and with all possible speed they set out for the wood castle. But the robber had vanished with the mysteries of the closed chamber. It was empty. All the other rooms were still just in the state that the fugitives had left them, but gold there was none to find.

The next day, the castle was surrounded by soldiers that were sent out from Fulda, but the robbers had evacuated the country, and came not again. After many vain attempts, it occurred at last that one of the robbers was seized on the Bergstrasse. This led to further discoveries; and finally, they had the good fortune to take prisoner the captain himself. He was confined over the Manheimer Gate in Heidelberg, and was to be delivered over to the Hessian authorities, when he escaped in a most extraordinary manner out of his prison, but was speedily recaptured. After an examination, in which he was hard pressed without their being able to bring any confession from him, he was dismissed at eight o'clock in the evening. At half past nine o'clock the same evening, the gaoler announced to the magistrate who had presided on the inquiry that the Black Peter had escaped from his confinement. The watch had shot at him, but had missed him.

It was found that, without any negligence on the part of his keepers, he had got out in a scarcely imaginable manner, in his shirt only. He had taken the whole of the circular window of his prison with its frame out. By means of a sharp holdfast, with which the frame of the window had been secured, he had broken the two new and good locks of the chain with which he was chained crossways; taken off the chains; torn up his bedclothes, and twisted them into a rope-ladder, from ten to twelve feet long, and had slipped through the wonderfully narrow opening of the strong window-shutters, which, by proof made there and then, would admit the passage of no other head. When he had reached the bottom of his rope he had still nine or ten feet to drop to the earth; and the shot, which was instantly fired at him, passed close to him.

Immediately on his escape be sprung into the neighbouring Neckar, and concealed himself under the floor of a swimming-school, which was erected on a boat, where he continued many hours up to the mouth in water. He saw the pursuers on both banks of the Neckar, and in the swimming-school itself. It was not till after midnight that he attempted to wade through the Neckar, which, luckily for him, was then very low; but he had not reached the other bank of the river when he became aware of the watchers placed there also. He continued yet for a long time sitting on a rock in the middle of the flood. Finally, he made another attempt, reached the bank, sprang up it, and by a rapid and breathless flight succeeded in reaching, in spite of all the straining efforts of his pursuers, the hills and the woods.

In order to make his appearance in the wood the less striking to people that he might happen to meet, he slipped his legs through the sleeves of the shirt, and held the lower part of the shirt about his neck with his hands. He thus ran on to a great distance. He met two Bauers in the woods, to whom he feigned himself crazed and dumb, and begged of them by signs, and was so lucky as not only not to be seized, but to obtain an alms from them, with the pity of the givers. With this alms he purchased some bread at a solitary mill in the mountain. The people inquired the cause of his singular dress, or rather want of it; and he invented a lie which answered his purpose. He fled still farther; till, at evening, he was arrested by some Bauers of less easy faith, and who had already became apprised of his flight, and the reward offered for his recapture. He was brought back to his prison, and soon afterwards delivered over to the Hessians, and confined in a high tower. But even from this he effected his escape in the most ingenious manner possible.

One morning, the sentinel who was on duty at the foot of the tower looking up, observed a hole worked in the wall, from which a tolerably long rope hung. He immediately and with all speed gave intelligence of the circumstance to the police officers. All hastened up into the tower, and saw with amazement a hole made through the wall, of the width of a man's body of ordinary size. Into the wall, a piece of iron, part of the broken chain, was driven, and to this the rope was fastened; the rope itself was made from the torn up cover and tick of the prisoner's straw bed.

They could not sufficiently wonder how a man could pass through such a hole; how he could trust himself at such a terrific height to such a brittle rope; and how he could by any possibility, when he reached the end of this rope, the length of which was insignificant in comparison with the height of the tower, drop to the ground without certain destruction.

While they were thus lost in these wonders, the prisoner, who all the time was in the room concealed under the straw taken out of his bed and heaped up behind the door, crept silently out, passed the open standing door unobserved, descended the stairs, and completely effected his escape.

He lived afterwards in various places and by various means; and on the breaking out of the war, enlisted for a soldier. The Battle of Waterloo, which cost so many honourable men their lives, ended also his.

"And his former wife?" asked Hoffmann.

"She soon died of grief, or, as they say in England, of a broken heart."