Yet a little while surviveth.
Uhland.
Immediately before the car, go two of the beadles carrying fasces wreathed with crape. On each side and behind the car, walk the companions of the Chore, all in simple black mourning, and with hats. Immediately behind the Chore also we see two clergymen in black costume walking. This whole group is surrounded by the torch-bearers. Then come all the other students who were acquainted with the deceased, and who have added themselves to the train. Before them goes the leader of the procession, with two attendants or marshals. The peculiar mourning costume--the buckskins and great jack-boots--the large storm or two-cocked hat, bordered with black and white crape, with sweeping feathers--the great leathern gauntlets--the sword trailing in its sheath--the broad Chore-riband, veiled in crape; all these particulars point him out. His two attendants are similarly attired, but without the storm-hat. The students then follow two and two, in divisions according to their Chores, and others add themselves. In two long lines they advance slowly on each side of the street, and from time to time we observe an officer marching between these lines, distinguished by his cerevis cap and riband, while he carries in his hand his sword, its colours also veiled in crape, and its sheath hanging from his left side. These maintain the order of the procession. Formerly it was customary for them to be more ceremoniously attended, similarly to the leader of the train. In the same costume as the leader of the train, however, comes its closer, also accompanied by his two attendants; and these personages are chosen by the Chores from amongst their tallest members, as a matter of state.
Thus the procession moves on slowly through the streets, and we see a seriousness expressed on the countenances of most of the attendants, which the peculiar paleness that the torchlight is wont to give, greatly heightens. While the murmur of the thoughtless multitude announces to us the termination of the train, let us hasten, by a shorter cut than they, to the Friedhof, the churchyard where the students are interred. Here the train assembles itself around the open grave. The clergyman steps into the midst of the silent throng, and having pronounced his address, closes it with his last benediction. Then steps forward one of the friends of the deceased, to clothe in words once more before the assembled crowd, his painful feelings. Yet once more calls he to their remembrance the true friendship of the departed, his manly worth, and his genuine German mind. Yet once more he dwells on all that they have lost in him. A few stanzas are sung, from the beautiful hymn "From High Olympus," which he had so often joined them in. And now the coffin must descend; and all press forward to discharge to him their last duty, by throwing each a handful of earth upon him. Lastly, the lowered swords are crossed over his grave, and their clash is the signal for the return of the train.
We perceive in many of these funeral ceremonies a similarity to those with which the deceased soldier is interred; and this is still more strikingly shown in the manner in which they return to one of the larger squares, there to burn the torches--a manner which we can by no means approve.
No longer solemnly and silently tread back the throng; but instead of mourning airs, we hear the march, nay, even the merry waltz and the gallopade. Arrived in one of the larger squares, the train march round it, and turning towards the centre, at a given signal, let their torches fly up into the air, and fall on a heap in the midst. They whirl up, describing many a fiery circle and convolution ere they reach the flaming pile; and now, while this one animated and huge torch lights up all around with a strong radiance, and the dark and giant clouds of smoke, which rolling up, mixed with the many-coloured flames, spread themselves to the heavens, the voices of the assembled students join in chorus the music-accompanied song of
Gaudeamus igitur,
Juvenes dum sumus.
And we see how speedily youth can step from one feeling to another. We see also the thought--"Though an individual falls, the great whole yet continues; it was for that, that he laboured, and his exertions have not been in vain;" we see this thought expressed in--
It shall live! the Academical Freedom!
which bursts forth from a thousand voices, amid the clashing together of the swords.