July 28th, 1888.—Life is a glorious gift, and a morning so bright and lovely as this makes one thankful! Immediately after breakfast we went to the castle, of which we have had views from a distance, and of which all our lives we have heard so much. There it stood, massive and grand, the most magnificent architectural ruin in the world. It is a ruin, but there is very much more of the original building left than of Kenilworth, that has walls only left; this has halls, rooms, and chapels, some of which have been restored. There is a moat around it, after crossing which we passed under and through a picturesque gateway, from which ivy and wild vines were waving, and entered the courtyard. The façade is of three stories, and on it are allegorical figures, statues, medallions, and stone carvings. Tradition gives Michael Angelo as the architect of this façade. Ball-rooms and banquet-halls were shown to us, some containing paintings in a fairly good state of preservation, which seems more remarkable when we consider that they have been there since long before America was discovered. Of the woman who acted as our guide we asked many questions, for one feels so much more interest in the history of a place when on the spots talked of. She was well informed, and told us what we had often read, that the castle was built in the thirteenth century, and that for several hundred years the Counts Palatine lived here in royal magnificence, and that at one period eighteen hundred persons formed the family, or the Court, of the Elector. No wonder they needed fireplaces large enough to roast oxen whole. The building was several times partly destroyed by armies, but was rendered useless to live in by lightning, at last.
What jolly times the high in power and the old sprigs of royalty in those days meant to have! One would have surely a dull imagination, or no imagination at all, who could here wander from room to room and not see with the mind’s eye the revellings of the long ago. The big tun in the cellar is hogshead-shaped, and really will hold forty-nine thousand gallons, and has been twelve times filled with the best wines. Can you comprehend such an amount, and a receptacle huge enough to contain it? The ‘Elizabethan Bau’ still shows that Frederick V. brought his bride, Elizabeth of England, to a princely home. But the silence and the decay of these ‘banquet halls deserted’ remind us forcibly of the brevity of the power and glory of this life, and should be a lesson to us to prepare for the life to come, which only is lasting. The wonderful beauty of the castle itself, the romantic situation, and the exquisite landscape views from its rich stone terrace, will be choice pictures in our memories for many a day.
There are but few attractive shops in Heidelberg; plenty of bologna sausages and pretzels; portraits and photographs of the two dead emperors everywhere, and many of the new Emperor William. ‘The king is dead. Long live the king.’ The city seems full of soldiers, all with black crape on their arms, and the citizens—men, women, and children—wear it also. Everything shows to us that we are indeed in Germany.
In our walks and drives in the town we have looked for the university students, and we have seen them—plenty of them, with faces cut and scarred, court-plastered and bandaged. What an abominable custom is this: to allow these naturally fine looking young men to make each other so hideous and repulsive in appearance for the rest of their lives. The American students here have nothing whatever to do with this disgraceful custom, and yet the Germans know well they are no cowards. A student from New York gave evidence of his willingness to risk his life, in a really noble act, by jumping into the River Neckar and saving the life of a child who had fallen from the bridge here, a short time ago. These German students are formed into five sections, or corps, and the members of each corps wear caps alike, so that it may be known by all who see them to which corps they belong. The colors are white, yellow, red, blue, and green, and the members of one corps never allow themselves to be in the least friendly with members of any other corps, for they may have to haggle them with swords within the next twenty-four hours. These corps students, we are told, belong to the most aristocratic families of Germany, and yet at the slightest provocation, and indeed with no provocation at all, they fight each other like wild cats. Very recently one of the red caps, by mistake, took a book belonging to a white cap, was challenged for so doing, and was slashed with his opponent’s sword unmercifully. I tell you this, as told to us, to show you how little it takes to cause a duel. If the members of the corps do not challenge each other, the president of a corps challenges for them—fight they must, or be forever branded as cowards, and to show the slightest sign of being afraid to do so would make life in Heidelberg unbearable for them forever after. In the duel, no matter how seriously one is hurt—his ear may be cut off, or his nose split—he must not wince or show a sign of the ‘white feather.’ Now is not this disgusting? Brave they say it makes them! Thank God, our young men show their bravery in nobler directions! Seeing students everywhere in our strolls about town, I wondered when they studied, and asked many questions in regard to the rules of the university. It seems rules are few. Heidelberg University gives to all who choose to hear, at a very small charge, lectures on all the sciences and arts, delivered by men of great wisdom; so if students wish to learn, they have great opportunities. If they are indifferent, everybody else is in regard to them; they can do as they please. We heard a great deal of their capacity for, and indulgence in, beer drinking, but saw little of it.
In the old castle there is a banquet-room where they congregate for their revels often. This grand old ruin now belongs to the Duke of Baden.
We have made some purchases of leather goods here—pocket-books, card-cases, and so forth, extremely pretty and cheap—and they all bear the impress of the castle; so you shall see many views of it when we get home. At our hotel to-day a young American girl heard of the sudden death of her father, and refused to be comforted. Poor dear child, how our hearts went out in sympathy for her. And how hard it is for us all, amid the sorrows and griefs of this life, to keep always God’s love for us in view.
LETTER X.
Mayence, Germany, July 29th, 1888.