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HOW I MATRICULATED AT A GERMAN UNIVERSITY.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

BEFORE going to Germany I had been told that it would be a great assistance to me in learning the language to enter a university, for thus I should not only have a chance of listening to good German for some hours a day, but should also make acquaintances among the students and so increase my opportunities for speaking. Having settled myself comfortably for the winter in a German University town, I bethought myself of this advice and, rash mortal that I was, resolved to carry it out.

Then the trouble began. How was I to go to work to get into the place? None of my German friends could seem to throw any light on the point; they knew, of course, what was necessary for a German, but were completely at sea as to what was required of a foreigner. Finally, I determined to take the bull by the horns and go and see the Rector (or President, as we say) himself, confident that he, at any rate, would know something about the matter. I accordingly ascertained his address and ventured a call, having carefully planned out beforehand a number of nice little speeches calculated to impress the old fellow with the idea that my knowledge of German was something phenomenal, a decided case of "supposition contrary to fact."

My first attempt was a failure: the servant said he was taking a nap and could not be disturbed on any account. The second time, however, I was more fortunate: he was in, and I was ushered into his presence, feeling somewhat shaky about the knees, I must confess. He proved to be a fine-looking, gray-haired man of about sixty, I should judge, who soon set me quite at my ease by talking English to me, and very good English too. I learned from him that all I had to do was to prove myself a foreigner, which was easily accomplished by showing my passport, and that then I should have no further difficulty. He kindly gave me also some information as to the details of the process of matriculation and then dismissed me, wishing me success in my undertaking.

The first thing to be done was to call at the office of the University Richter and get a card admitting me to the matriculation ceremonies, whenever they might take place. I found the office of this functionary without much difficulty, but was unfortunately too late to catch its occupant, it being already past his office-hours, as a placard on the door informed me. Early next morning, therefore, I presented myself again at he office and obtained a card for 2 P.M. the following day. "Slow but sure," I said to myself as I went home again, having finished my labors for that day. Alas! slow it certainly was, but not quite so sure as I thought.

At 2 P.M., sharp, I was outside the Senate-chamber door, armed with my passport and ready for business. Around me was a crowd of German youths, all loaded down with voluminous documents and looking excessively anxious. After an embarrassing delay we were admitted, but found no one there except the servant who had opened the door and who took our cards as we came in. After we had all entered he came round and gathered up our papers, with which he vanished through a small door in the wall. Another delay ensued, during which I amused myself by studying the frescos on the ceiling, which consisted principally of groups of little naked cherubs in every possible and impossible attitude. At last there was a movement, a pair of folding doors was opened, and we all passed into an adjacent chamber and silently took seats there. At the upper end of the room was a large table with the University Senate seated about it, and near by were four smaller tables at which sat the Deans of the various faculties. After a few moments of impressive silence, one of the professors at the big table, who had all our papers in a neat pile before him, began to call slowly our names. As each man's name was called he marched up to the table and commenced a process of slow revolution about it, stopping at each of the professors to answer what appeared to be very numerous questions. My name was one of the first, and, having given myself a final brace, I stepped proudly up to the table, conscious that I was the only American there and determined to sustain the honor of my country. I was, therefore, not a little taken aback when the individual with the pile of papers held out my passport to me and calmly told me that I could never enter the University on that passport; there was a mistake in it which must be set right again before they could be sure that I was an American citizen. Not being very fluent with my German just then I did not dispute the matter with him, but took the passport and departed, feeling decidedly "sat upon." I hurried to the American legation, had the mistake rectified, and was back again in less than an hour; but it was too late, the doors of the Senate-chamber were shut, and knocking seemed to be of no avail. Determined to accomplish something, I went round to the Richter's office to get another card, but his door was likewise impervious. "Crushed again" would have aptly described my feelings as I went back to my lodging. Here I had been already three days at work and was just as far from matriculating as ever. However, although Nil desperandum is not the motto on my coat-of-arms, I resolved to adopt it on this occasion.

Next morning I made another call on the Richter and was informed that I could not matriculate on the following day, but must wait till the day after, as the Senate only met twice a week. I was prepared for anything now, however, so I took the card and left without comment.

At length the eventful day and hour came, my name was called, and I marched up to the table once more, passing successfully the Cerberus with the pile of papers, who could find no flaw in my passport this time. The next man was the Rector, who asked me my name and nationality, having apparently forgotten my previous visit to him, and wrote them into their appropriate places in a large sheet before him, which I afterwards found was a sort of testimonial that I, "vir juvenis ornatissimus," &c., had entered the University and was enrolled among its students. No. 3 asked me the same questions and a choice lot of new ones beside, covering the whole range of my family history, the answers to all of which he carefully wrote down in a large book. After him there was n't much left for the next man to say; he managed, however, to find one new question, and that was, what did I mean to study. This last was rather a poser. I had hitherto confined my attention entirely to getting in, and had given no thought to the question of what I should do when I had succeeded. It was no time for hesitating, however, so I answered the first thing that came into my head, which happened to be philology, and was so enrolled. The next man had me write down myself, by way of a change, the same old story of name, age, nativity, &c., which I knew pretty well by this time. Professor No. 5 made me write my name on a little printed card which I was always to carry with me and be prepared to show at any time to prove that I was a student and thus out of the jurisdiction of the city; and No. 6 gave me my papers, consisting of the before-mentioned certificate, which in itself would cover a large-sized table, and various other documents: the statutes of the University, regulations for the use of the library and reading-room, &c. I then went off at a tangent to one of the smaller tables, where I answered the same old questions for the Dean of my faculty, and received a further addition to my store of documents. I was now free to return to my seat and watch the rest of the crowd going through the same ordeal.

When we had all made our pilgrimage and received our documents, the doors of the room were thrown open, the old Rector took his stand at one end of the big table, and we all formed in single file, passing round the table and shaking hands with the Rector, and then out at the door.

And so, the long-drawn agony ended, I was matriculated at last; and having treated myself to a beer, and then another beer, in honor of the event, I proceeded joyfully home, with the consciousness of having made a good fight and done a good week's work.

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